Blow(35)

“Are you okay?” Michael asked again with concern.

I didn’t want to discuss what had happened last night over the phone. “Yes, I’m fine. But can I come over after I close the boutique? There are some things I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Yeah, sure, of course. Listen, do you want me to pick you up and take you to work?”

Muscles rippled beside me with Logan’s slight movement. “No, I can walk but thanks for asking.”

“You sure?”

My eyes were on the impressive muscle tone beside me. “Yes, I could use the exercise. I’ll be inside all day.”

“Okay then, since Clementine is already awake, I’ll head over to the garage as soon as I get her fed and changed to sign off on the estimate for the damage. They said they could still deliver the vehicle today, but it would be a bit later with the additional repairs that are needed. I told them that was fine since you were working until six anyway.”

The sea of white still encompassed me. “Thanks, Michael.”

“Elle,” he said in a low tone.

“Yes.”

“You should have called me.”

Logan’s body stiffened at that and he moved away from me.

“We’ll talk later,” was my only response. After all, he was right. I should have.

Logan was rinsing out the coffeepot, and as soon as I hung up he said, “I’ll drop you off at the boutique. What time do you have to be there?”

I looked at the clock on the wall and sighed. I really had wanted to walk but time wouldn’t allow for that. “About five minutes ago.”

With a rumble from deep in his throat, he turned around and his hazel gaze raked my length. “You’d better hurry then.”

I felt the heat in his glance and the warmth chased my chill away. “Yeah, I will.”

Logan bobbed his head toward the stairs. “I’ll be here waiting.”

I gave him a slight smile. “Thank you . . . for everything.”

Our eyes connected, but eventually he turned around and busied himself scooping coffee into the filter.

Not quite a full minute later, I managed to unglue my gaze from him and make my way up the stairs to hop in the shower. Standing naked as the warm water flowed over me, I couldn’t help but think of Logan. The way he moved. The way he spoke. The way he watched me. The way his body had been wrapped around mine so protectively. I remembered waking from a bad dream and him trying to console me. How I’d ended up in his arms, I didn’t recall, but it didn’t really matter.

No matter what he said, I knew the truth—we were on opposite sides.

And that meant there was no way we could be together.

Logan had never showed anything but concern for me. Yet, he’d come with his father to give Michael a warning. What came after the warning was what concerned me. And would Logan be involved with that?

I had no reason to believe he would. I didn’t want to. But I had to push the intoxicating man from my mind and face reality. My first step toward that was to concentrate on getting ready. I wanted to look hip for my boutique opening but was in a hurry, so I had to compromise.

I pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans and found an off-white flouncy blouse to wear under my black leather jacket. I went with chunky ankle boots and quickly blew my hair dry to calm some of the wildness. I coated my lashes with mascara and dabbed on some clear lip gloss.

When I looked at myself in the mirror, I envisioned Logan putting his arms around me. Running his fingers through my hair. Kissing my glossy lips. Tucking his hands under the flare of my top.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Stop it,” I chastised myself.

And besides, I had bigger issues to think about, such as who slashed my tire and broke my window, and who had been lurking around my house last night.

With that in mind, I stepped into my closet and pulled a tote down from the shelf and then threw a few things into it. I was going to take Logan’s advice and stay at Michael’s, at least for the night.

Thirty minutes had elapsed when I started down the stairs.

Not bad.

Logan was fully dressed and on his phone, quietly talking over near the door that led to the back. As soon as he saw me, he hung up. I knew better than to ask.

My .22 was on the counter. He opened the chamber to check if it was loaded. I already knew it was.

My larger purse was beside me and I reached to take the gun.

That was not what he had in mind. Instead, he emptied the chamber. “Let me show you.”

“Logan, I know how—” I started to protest, but he wasn’t listening.

His long, lean body was behind me in a matter of moments and his hands were on mine, raising them. “Aim and shoot.” He squeezed my finger against the trigger, firing off dry rounds. “You don’t hesitate. You understand?”

I nodded and concentrated on the weapon in my hand, not the powerhouse of a man practically holding me.

His strong body pressed to mine. His competent hands were showing me how to take care of myself. He didn’t appear to be holding anything back—he knew what he was doing to me, to my body. The thought snapped me out of my haze. “Logan, I know how to use a gun.”

Moving to the side, he reloaded it. “I’m sure you do. It’s just that last night, you were aiming that gun at me but I knew you had no intention of pulling the trigger.” He set the gun on the counter and stepped into me. “If I were anyone else, you’d be dead.”