Crush(18)

A small sip of his water on his part alerted me that he was nervous too.

I wondered why.

Finally, he spoke. “First of all I want to apologize for involving you in that entire mix-up last week. I never should have put you in a position like that.”

Phew, he was completely unaware of not only the delivery, but also Logan’s involvement. Another attempt at a smile I just couldn’t seem to form failed. Instead, I tried to be as upbeat as I could. “Please, Michael, I think we’re past all the pleasantries. I understand why you had to ask me for help. Sending the packages to the boutique and not the house or your office made sense. No one would have had any idea. I’m just glad the people who were threatening you and Clementine are now behind bars and we can put all of this behind us.”

I hoped that was true.

Dark circles below his eyes couldn’t hide how tired he looked and I wondered if something was still worrying him. “Good then, we can agree to put that behind us.”

I nodded.

“You’re certain everything is okay?” he asked again.

No, everything was not okay. I was heartbroken and downright upset over this entire situation I’d allowed myself to be put in, but I couldn’t tell him that. He knew nothing of my brief affair with Logan. I drew in a deep breath and found some inner strength. “Yes, I’m fine.” This time I managed a smile that had to look as fake as it felt.

“Okay then, I have a favor to ask you.”

Before I could think of what to say, because the last thing I wanted to do was another favor for him, the waiter arrived with our food. “Lobster rolls,” he said, placing our plates in front of us. “Can I get you anything else?”

Michael looked over at me and I shook my head. “No, I think we’re good. If you could just bring the check, I’m in a bit of a hurry today.”

“Yes, certainly, Mr. O’Shea, no problem.”

Michael was a regular at B&G Oysters. He’s the one who turned me on to the restaurant and to lobster rolls. Both of which I loved, but neither of which pleased me today.

I looked down at my rectangular plate of food—the sandwich on one side, the sea-salt-seasoned fries on the other, and in the middle pickles and a small silver container of ketchup.

Ketchup.

Even the stupid condiment made me think of Logan, and my mind drifted back to the first night we’d met.



Logan had been sitting across from me at the table and I couldn’t get the ketchup to come out of the bottle. He took it from me and magically poured some onto my plate. Those hazel eyes lifted seductively. “The secret is knowing where the sweet spot is,” he’d said. That was the first time my stomach had ever done a full belly flop over a guy.



Michael cleared his throat.

Pulled from my thoughts, my eyes darted across the table.

“I have this fundraiser Wednesday night that I was hoping you would attend with me.”

Shocked, I tried not to let my mouth drop open. “What kind of fundraiser?”

After taking a bite from his sandwich, he wiped his mouth. “Political.”

I blinked. “The fundraising for next year’s elections starts this early?”

He nodded. “I’m a little behind the ball and I have a lot of ground to make up.”

“I don’t know, Michael. Politics aren’t anything I know that much about.”

“Please, Elle, I could really use as much support as I can get.”

Not at all wanting to go, I felt like I should. “Can I think about it?”

Michael took another bite of his food. “Sure. My hope is that you’ll say yes. It’s at the University of Massachusetts and it’s a big one. We’re hoping to raise $250,000. A friend of mine was able to arrange for a well-connected alumnus to speak. He’s sure to attract a deep-pocketed crowd.”

“That’s great. I’m certain it will be a success. What is the dress code should I decide to attend?”

Reaching under the table, he pulled the bag out. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of buying you something to wear. You look like you’re close to Elizabeth’s size, so I went with that.”

I wasn’t certain how to take that. On one hand it was nice of him; on the other, was he worried I wouldn’t know how to dress? I took the bag from him. “Thank you. I’m not sure what to say.”

He looked a little sheepish. “It’s not meant to offend you in any way, so please don’t take it like that. I just didn’t know if you’d have anything to wear to a black-tie affair and I didn’t want you to stress out about spending the money to purchase something. If you don’t like it or if it doesn’t fit, you can take it back and exchange it. Or if you have something you prefer to wear, you can keep it or return it.”

The sincerity in his voice pushed away any animosity I might have had. “No, I appreciate it. I don’t actually have anything formal and I’ll let you know by tomorrow. Let me look at my schedule.”

His phone beeped and he glanced at the screen. His face instantly paled. “I have to go.” He grabbed the bill that the waiter had discreetly placed on the table and then peeled off some twenties from his wallet before setting them inside the leather folio.

“What is it?” I asked.