Like,reallylike him.
Maybe even more than like him.
I’ve only halfway felt the word that rhymes withgloveonce in my life, and it didn’t end well. Now, sitting at the bar in Logan’s kitchen as we finish our dinner, I’m having a bit of an internal crisis.
I don’t know how to tell him. I don’t even know if Ishouldtell him. I don’t doubt that he likes having me around, but little things tell me he still hasn’t lost his wariness of women trying to tie him down as a paycheck.
And here I am with no income still as I work out my design issues so I can get my business fully off the ground.
I make the executive decision: I’m not going to say it first. It might not be the mature decision, but it’s the only one that works for me.
I don’t know if I could handle him telling me that he just doesn’t feel that way, or telling me it’s time to move on now that I’ve gotten attached. After all, I’m the girl you screw around with, not the one you settle down with.
When the hell did I start thinking in terms of settling down?
Logan pushes his plate away, but I still have half a steak and a salad to finish.
I’m not sure if I’m scared that I’m going to blurt something out, but right now I don’t trust myself enough not to start babbling because I’m having a minor meltdown.
I’m twenty-seven. I’m the CEO of a broke company that no one has ever heard of—but I’m planning to make it a household name in the orgasm-delivery business. Settling down shouldn’t even be in my plans right now.
“Something wrong with the steak, Bruce?” Logan asks.
I shake my head and cut another piece to pop into my mouth, industriously chewing like my life depends on it.
“So, I was thinking,” he says, “dinner isn’t enough of a rain check. Maybe we should get away for a weekend together. I know this place up in the Smokies that people sometimes use for honeymoons, but—”
I choke on the meat and start coughing.
“Jesus, are you okay?”
My eyes are watering, and I sound like I’m about to hack up a lung. I reach for my water and chug some to dislodge the meat.
“Do you need the Heimlich?” Logan stands up, poised to wrap his arms around my chest and start the maneuver.
I shake my head, reaching for my napkin to cover my mouth as I spit out the chunk and crush it into a ball.
“I’m okay.” My voice comes out as a wheeze, and Logan stares at me like I’ve grown a third eye.
“Are you sure?”
I nod, reaching for my water again to calm my angry throat. “Just went down wrong.”
I still sound like I’ve been strangled, but it’s the best I can do as I reach over the edge of the counter for a piece of paper towel to wipe at the tears still leaking from the corners of my eyes.
He studies me for a moment before sitting back down. “Too much with the weekend thing?”
I shake my head. “Just bad timing with me trying to stuff my face.”
“So I should wait to ask you until I’m balls deep and keep you on the edge of orgasm until you say yes?”
My Logan-loving lady parts perk up at that question.
“I can tell you like that idea,” he adds.
“I guess you’ll have to try it and see,” I reply, hoping it comes off casually, even though I feel like there’s a flashing neon sign above my head that saysNONE OF THIS IS CASUAL ANYMORE.
“I think that’s exactly what I should do. Who knows what I could get you to say if I started withholding orgasms.”