Neat (Becker Brothers, #2)(68)

And Sunday, we did it all over again.

Logan didn’t leave my place until bright and early Monday morning, giving himself the day to shower and shop and get ready for our Christmas party at work. It was Christmas Eve, and the entire distillery was off for the next two days, but the Scooter Whiskey Christmas party wasn’t exactly optional for the employees. It was always a grand affair, with Mom going all out with catering and a band just like she loved to do, and Dad giving himself an excuse to talk into a microphone, just like he loved to do. They’d both made it very clear that I was expected to be there, and Logan and his entire family would be there, too.

Even though the last thing I wanted to do was put on another dress I didn’t feel comfortable in and play into the politics of Stratford, I knew it would be bearable with Logan there. I looked forward to stolen kisses in dark hallways, to watching him from across the room without anyone knowing I’d had him in my bed all weekend, and most of all, to coming home tonight and knowing he’d be coming home with me.

I floated on a high all day long, even when Chris dragged me an hour out of town to the packed mall crawling with last-minute Christmas gift shoppers to find me a dress to wear to the party. I didn’t even complain when he had me trying on heels to match, or when he insisted on paying to get my hair and makeup done by one of the girls at the salon there. We stopped by his place long enough for him to put on a well-tailored, navy blue suit and a red tie that matched my dress, and then we were off, headed to the distillery.

“Logan is going to have to sit on his hands to keep from touching you all night in that dress,” Chris said as we made our way across the parking lot. A hundred other cars were parking, too, and the clouds swirled with a threat of snow above us.

“I’ll have to tell him to thank you.”

“Oh, trust me, you wouldn’t be okay with how I’d let Logan Becker thank me.”

I poked him in the rib, and he laughed, holding his arm out for me to loop mine through.

“Come on. Let’s see if your mom made any of that boozy eggnog we used to steal when we were teenagers.”

The wind whipped cold against our faces as we huddled together and made our way inside the distillery. The party was being held in the only event space the distillery had, which was usually reserved for schmoozing possible partners or big clients. I gasped when we pushed through the doors, gawking and doing a full three-sixty turn as one of the pew boys from church took my coat.

“Whoa,” Chris murmured, looking around with me. “Your mom really went all out.”

And she had. It was a winter wonderland inside that old warehouse. Blue up-lights cast the walls and ceiling in a beautiful cerulean blue, and fake snow fell from the ceiling in the form of little foam bubbles. As soon as the flakes hit the ground, they disappeared, but there was scene after scene of wintery fun lining the room — a snow man, a little forest of trees, a small log cabin with the chimney churning out light smoke, an actual fire pit that had people sitting around it making s’mores. The dance floor was already covered with distillery employees and their families doing line dances to the country music the band was playing, and there were carolers making their way around the room, singing Christmas songs softly — just loud enough to be heard by those in very near proximity.

We made our way deeper inside with our mouths still gaping, and someone handed us what appeared to be champagne, but it was tinged a light pink. When we tasted it, Chris’s eyes widened.

“Peppermint,” he said in awe.

I shook my head, a small laugh escaping my lips. It was an incredible party, and I had to give it to my parents. If they knew how to do one thing well — it was this.

Chris and I claimed our seats at one of the round tables in the back corner, me dropping off my clutch and him hanging his suit jacket on the back of the chair. Then, he led me to the dance floor, peppermint champagne still in our hands, and we danced.

I was never a big country music fan, but I couldn’t fight back a smile as I did the old line dances I’d used to love in high school with the rest of the employees at the distillery. In a way, it felt like a big barn party, like just another night at The Black Hole, and I smiled despite the fact that I was in a dress and heels.

When I did a turn during “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” and saw Logan watching me from across the dance floor, I smiled for a completely different reason.

I stuttered, but he moved easily into the next move, giving me a wink and a crooked smile that had his dimple popping out on his left cheek. I smiled back, finding my place in the dance again, but unable to take my eyes off him. His own eyes swept over me, and he shook his head, mouthing a “wow” that made me blush.

Blush.

Who even was I?

We were still staring at each other when Logan’s older brother, Jordan, narrowed his eyes — first at Logan, and then at me. I swallowed under the intensity of his glare, offering a small, noncommittal wave. Jordan lowered his brows more, turning his gaze to Logan, who finally tore his eyes off me and continued dancing, acting like nothing had happened at all.

My stomach sank, remembering the universe we still lived in, regardless of the one we’d promised to make together. But I didn’t have time to stew on it before Dad was on the microphone, telling us to make our way to our tables for dinner to be served.

I wasn’t able to steal away time with Logan like I’d hoped — not during dinner, and not after, when the white elephant gift exchange was happening between the employee children on the dance floor. When the band picked back up again and people started making their way to the floor, I caught his attention from where he sat at a table with his mother, Jordan, and Mikey, and I nodded toward the hall where the bathrooms were.