When You're Ready (Ready #1)(27)
I stared at him stunned, face turning an awful shade of red, imagining all the things we could do in that car alone. As my mind raced with a hundred different fantasies, he just smirked and said, “Breathe Clare.” I took a big gulp of air into my lungs as he started his tirade against musicals. “I loathe musicals. Randomly breaking out into song? What’s that about? It’s just plain wrong.”
I burst into laughter and we proceeded to argue the pros and cons of musical theater. Somehow I didn’t think I’d be convincing him to see “Cats” anytime soon.
We turned onto a gravel road with a worn sign that had “The Thompson Plantation Bed and Breakfast. Est. 1809” printed in wispy elegant script. I turned in my seat, a bit confused and said, “A Bed and Breakfast? A bit presumptuous, aren’t we?” I joked as we traveled down the tree lined single lane road.
“One can only hope,” he grinned. “But no. We will be enjoying dinner. Only.”
“Oh.”
“Who’s the presumptuous one now?” he laughed.
“Hey, you’re the one taking me to a -- holy shit!” I yelled, stopping myself mid-sentence when the house came into view.
The word house was an understatement. It was huge. The colossal white mansion sat along the glistening waters of the James River. We had been driving so long and talking so much, I hadn’t realized we were even following the river. Massive, dense gardens surround the house from every side, holding every flower imaginable. It looked like a postcard come to life.
The house was everything you would expect of a southern plantation, with black plantation shutters, huge white columns, and a wraparound porch. I could just close my eyes and envision what it must have looked like during the Civil War with elegantly dressed women wandering around the gardens worrying about their men as the slaves performed their duties, wondering if things would ever be different. So much history stood in this structure.
“Oh my God, Logan. This is amazing.” I grabbed the door handle, dying to jump out of the car and explore. As a history major, or “history nerd” as Ethan used to call me, I had a love for everything old. It was one of the reasons I loved living in Virginia. Once I became a single mother, I had little time left for myself. My inner nerd had been seriously deprived over the last few years. Right now, she was bouncing up and down in excitement.
“So, good surprise?” he asked, still seated in the car.
“Yes! Perfect. Now let’s go! I want to see everything!”
Laughing at my enthusiasm, he opened his door, quickly running around to open mine. He was too late. I was already out of the car, practically foaming at the mouth. I was like a kid in a candy store. My eyes were darting everywhere. There were gardens, an old barn, the house…I wanted to see it all!
“I figured a history lover would have visited all the local plantations by now, but I took a chance on this one because of its location and the fact that it was a Bed and Breakfast.
“It’s magnificent,” I sighed. It was. Whoever owned the property took precious care of it. The pristine gardens had winding paths, budding roses, and ivy covered arches that all lead to a view of the James River that went on for miles.
“Come on. The Innkeeper, Ms. Thompson is expecting us,” Logan said, taking my hand and pulling me toward the grand entrance of the estate.
His hand felt warm and solid in mine and it began stirring something inside of me I hadn’t felt in a long time. I had the same feeling last week when he pulled me in his arms and kissed me senseless. Desire.
Walking along the path, I allowed myself a few moments to shamelessly look Logan up and down. God, he’s sexy. He wore dark jeans that rested low on his hips and hugged his ass and a tight fitted button down shirt that matched the dark color of his hair. He looked edible. The bottom button of his shirt was left undone, and I could see his belt buckle and a bit of skin peeking out whenever he moved just right. I wondered if that button was purposely undone because it was currently driving me insane. All I wanted to do was run my hands under that shirt and pet him until he purred.
He was still sporting his “just f**ked” hairstyle, the norm for him I realized, and it was just as hot as it was the first time I saw him, all messy and tossed to perfection. We reached the front of the estate and just as I was contemplating what it would look like with my hands buried in it, he glanced back, basically catching me in the act of eye f**king him.
Oops.
One side of his mouth pulled into a mischievous, lopsided grin. His eyes alight with humor, he took a step closer to me so that we are inches apart.
“See something you like, Clare?”
“That’s got to be the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I teased, even though, yes there were quite a number of things I saw at the moment I liked. But I just couldn’t let that cheeseball line go. It was horrible.
He shook his head, clearly amused, saying, “You must be the hardest woman in the world to flirt with.”
“Ohhhh that was flirting? I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” I mocked.
“Maybe I need to try harder,” he whispered in my ear, pulling my body flush against his, sending shivers racing down my spine.
Gently brushing the hair off my bare shoulder, his fingers trailed down my back to rest at my waist. All joking between us was gone, and I looked into his eyes with raw need.