The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2)(72)

“I feel the exact same way about you.” She pushed her hair behind her ears and sighed. “Just promise me you aren’t expecting Logan to make the kinds of personal changes for you that you’ve attempted for him this past month. As much as he must like you, he’s a charming wanderer who likes his life as it is.”

“I’ve no unrealistic expectations, but thanks for caring.” She hugged Steffi, then eased away with a forced smile. “Now go inside and bake brownies while I go home and eat some.”



Logan wiped his boots on the welcome mat before knocking on Claire’s door. Rain dripped from the edge of the porch roof, its pitter-patter catching his attention because such gentle sounds were rarely noticeable in Manhattan. Senses that had been muted by overstimulation in the city had been reawakening since he’d returned to town.

When her door opened, his evening improved considerably just at the sight of her.

“That was quick,” Claire said, stepping back to let him inside.

He’d called from his car after he’d already started toward her house.

“I thought you’d be eager to see these.” He held up his laptop after slipping off his boots. “The images came out great, if I say so myself.”

“Images?” she asked, looking puzzled.

“The architectural shoots?” He noticed a smear of chocolate at the corner of her mouth. Cupping her jaw, he planted a kiss on that spot and licked it away. Unlike every night this past week, she didn’t melt into his arms. At best, she seemed distracted, at worst, disinterested. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head and blinked like she was trying to wake herself up. “Nothing. Can I see the pictures?”

“Of course.” He opened his laptop on the coffee table and patted the cushion beside him, brushing off the slight sting of her indifference. “For each location, I narrowed it down to the best dozen images, but then also grouped my three favorites for each location, for what that’s worth.”

He started the slideshow he’d put together and turned the computer screen toward her. A bright, elegant image of the Duvall bathroom filled the screen.

Claire’s lips parted as she flattened her hands on her breastbone. “It’s gorgeous! It almost feels like false advertising.” She clicked through a few more before sparing him a glance. Her expression—a mix of awe and disbelief—filled him up. “I get so lost in the details of a project that I lose sight of the big picture. Is this really what our work looks like to fresh eyes?”

“Pictures don’t lie.” He caressed her back, immediately soothed by the contact, although her attention remained riveted on the screen. Waiting patiently for her to tire of reviewing the photographs proved a true test. “Well? Do you know which you want to use?”

“It’s hard to choose, but I think you’re right. Less is more. I trust your eye and like the groupings you put together. They’ll make the most powerful impact.” She smiled broadly before laying her head on his shoulder. “Thank you for doing this for us. I know you might catch some flak because of it.”

“The benefits have far exceeded any blowback I might get from some peers,” he teased, dipping his head to capture the intriguing view of her ever-changing eyes. “Brace yourself, because this isn’t the only favor I’ve done for you lately.”

She raised her head. “I’m almost afraid to ask . . .”

“I got the inside scoop on my dad’s hotel plans.”

“You spent time with your dad?” She clutched the sofa cushion with both hands.

“And lived to tell the tale.” A sad joke, but apt.

“And you did it for me?” Her voice sounded so soft and surprised it actually made his heart hurt. She deserved nice things from him on a regular basis.

“Yes, for you.” He rubbed her thigh. “Although, honestly, I got more out of it than I expected. We’ve called a truce—at least temporarily. We’ll see how long it lasts.”

She tucked her chin, her eyes sparkling in every shade of blue, chuckling. “I’m speechless.”

“Well, I didn’t learn much. I know the name of the hotels and the cities they’re in—from Maine to Maryland—but it sounds like most of his improvement plans are operational. He wants to ‘freshen them up,’ but he’s not planning to take on structural renovations. At least not until the other things are running better.”

She shrugged, a wan smile where he’d hoped to see a brighter—or at least determined—one. “It’s probably for the best.”

“What?” He turned fully, his knees bumping her thighs. “I thought you were excited to pitch him. That’s why I spoke to him.”

“Thank you, and I was. But some things aren’t meant to be.” Her words sank beneath his skin, producing a pit in his stomach. She absently twisted one of her earrings and then stood. “I’m thirsty. Do you want something to drink?”

He followed her to the kitchen, where he saw an empty box of chocolate-covered pretzels on the counter. “Hang on. What’s really going on? You’re not acting like yourself.”

An expression he didn’t recognize dashed across her face before she opened the refrigerator to grab a pitcher of iced tea.

“The thing is, I am. I’m acting exactly like myself.” She poured two glasses and handed him one. “It’s these past weeks that I haven’t been myself.”