The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2)(47)

She had gone to and from the city today without incident. Then that kiss and ensuing conversation had distracted her so much that she hadn’t paid attention to the drive home—or most of it, anyway. The painful silence of the past twenty minutes had made her more aware of the cars whizzing past like bullets. But here she was, home again, safe and sound.

Maybe Logan had raised a fair point. But the only thing she knew with certainty was that getting her hopes up where he—a man who’d never kept a girlfriend for long—was concerned would be a one-way ticket to heartache.

She gathered her things before steeling herself to look into those green eyes of his. “Thanks for lunch. Now that I’ve seen your home, I swear I’ll get a plan to you in the next few days.”

He reached for her hand as she went to exit his car. “Claire, do me a favor.”

“What?” She hated to ask because she didn’t feel strong enough to resist.

“Think about painting outside the lines a little with me. Whether for a day, a week, a month, or a year, it could be an extraordinary adventure for both of us.”

Painting outside the lines with Logan sounded like heaven, and that was exactly the problem. She swallowed a sigh when her mother knocked on the window, startling them both.

Claire opened the door and got out of the car. “Mom? What’re you doing here?”

“Looking for you, honey. I’ve been calling all day. You never answered, so I got worried, especially when I found your car here but no one home.”

Claire couldn’t even look at Logan, who was probably thinking her mother insane. “My phone’s been in my purse. I didn’t check it. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Her mom smoothed Claire’s hair like she was eight, then leaned down to wave at Logan through the open door. “Hello again. What’ve you two been up to?”

“I took Claire to see my apartment so she could finish her design plans.”

Her mom’s eyes practically popped out of her head as she flattened one hand on her chest. “In New York?”

“Yes. Had a great lunch while we were there, too.” Logan shot Claire a pointed look.

“Oh,” her mom stuttered before flashing a weak smile at Logan. “Well, hopefully you won’t have to do that again. Have a good evening, dear.”

Her mom shut the car door before Claire had a chance to say goodbye.

Claire bent to wave to Logan through the passenger window before he pulled away from the curb. That little interlude probably made him realize how ridiculous he’d been to think he and Claire could ever be more than friends. Now she wouldn’t have to reject the idea, because he would.

Instead of bursting with relief, Claire’s heart sank to her toes, which, when combined with the ache in her hip from the dank weather, made her climb to the front door hurt all the more.

Her mother followed her inside with her arms crossed, her face a mask of concern. “I’m shocked you went with Logan into the city, especially with that earlier weather. And just last week there was another crazy down there who pushed someone onto the subway tracks. You two didn’t go on the subway, did you?”

Claire closed her eyes. “No, Mom. Please relax. We’re fine.”

“Thank God!” Her mom hugged her. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything else ever happened to you, honey.”

The burden of that responsibility weighed on Claire’s shoulders like an I beam. She understood the worry of a parent. But such suffocating concern might be causing a different, if less visible, kind of harm.

Claire eased out of the embrace.

“Do you want to join Dad and me for dinner?”

“I ate so much today I don’t need dinner. Logan took me to this wonderful little bistro.” A smile formed the instant she thought of their intimate corner table.

“Mm.” Her mom wrinkled her nose. “Well, I’m glad you escaped without any trouble. Manhattan’s full of crime, crazies, and traffic.”

“I know, Mom. I know.” She did know. She’d heard it a billion times. It’s why she’d made herself a content life here at home. Yet . . . if she hadn’t gone there today, she’d never have been inside Logan’s apartment. Or walked streets filled with people from all over the world. Or enjoyed that amazeballs dessert. Most of all, she wouldn’t have been kissed by Logan Prescott.

A real kiss. One that had resonated throughout her entire body.

Sensations she could reexperience if she were willing to get hurt—again—which no doubt she would. And yet his plea made her wonder if maybe . . . maybe it would be worth trying to be “fluid” and not get hung up on labels for whatever she and Logan felt for each other. Maybe a few extraordinary moments were worth whatever regrets might come later.

“So you really won’t join Dad and me for dinner?” her mom asked, breaking Claire’s reverie.

“Not tonight. I want to dig into Logan’s design plan while my ideas and memory are fresh.”

Her mom patted her shoulder. “I’m so proud of how hard you work on this brave new venture, honey.” She zipped up her jacket, looking a bit like a navy-blue Michelin Man. “By the way, I’d let myself in before you showed up. I left you a slice of Grammy’s cake on the counter.”

“Thanks.” She’d need more chocolate if she kept thinking about kissing Logan.