Wild (The Ivy Chronicles #3)(11)

Working at a bar? My mom would have a coronary. “Thanks, but I kind of have to go.”

Pepper wrinkled her nose. “To that bank you don’t want to work at. You’re going to work there?”

Admittedly, Reece’s offer was tempting. Staying here over the summer. Having an apartment to myself. Working at Mulvaney’s—having a job where I didn’t have to wear a suit and be “on” and impress everyone so they would go back and say great things to my mother about me. It sounded like heaven.

Reece must have seen something in my face. “Think about it, Georgia. Since Pepper and I just bought the new house, the apartment is there if you want it. And with the second Mulvaney’s open across town, we’re looking for new staff. If you need work, it’s there.”

I nodded. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.” And I realized they weren’t just words I was uttering to placate him. I really would think about it. Long into the night.

I went for pizza with Reece, Pepper, and Suzanne from down the hall. Emerson and Shaw met up with us, too. Thankfully, I didn’t feel like such a third wheel with Suzanne there.

Over slices of Greek and Hawaiian pizza, we all talked about our summer plans. Suzanne was going home part of the summer to house-sit while her parents went on a month-long Mediterranean cruise. I sighed internally. I wish my parents would go on a month-long cruise. Maybe then going home wouldn’t feel like such an impending tragedy.

Pepper and Reece talked animatedly about their new place and the newly opened Mulvaney’s across town. Okay, Pepper was mostly the animated one. Reece just watched her with a sexy smile on his face.

Aside from the garage Shaw would soon be opening, Emerson and Shaw were excited about a new client who had just commissioned three bikes from them—and Emerson had an offer from a fancy gallery in Boston to feature a collection of her work next month. The happy vibes were almost smothering me.

My phone rang once as Emerson was coaxing me into sharing a slice of tiramisu with her. A glance down confirmed what I already suspected. It was Mom. I let it go to voicemail, determined to enjoy dinner out with my friends.

When I returned to my room later, I played Mom’s message. It was a reminder for me to call Mr. Berenger first thing Monday morning.

Sighing, I got ready for bed, telling myself I’d call him Monday afternoon after my morning classes.

Settling into bed, I stared into the dark. Thin orange light bled in through the blinds’ slats. I focused on my to-do list for tomorrow and Monday. Study for exams. On Monday I needed to meet with my advisor regarding my course selection for next year. And now I needed to call about the bank job.

Sighing, I rolled onto my side. I needed to get some boxes and start thinking about packing up my stuff, too. Just three more weeks and the semester would be over. There was plenty else to occupy my mind . . . so why did I keep thinking about that kiss? Why did my mind keep going back to Logan? His face was there so clearly. The searing blue eyes. Those lips that were always grinning—except when I was kissing him. And when he was kissing me back.

My hand dragged up my stomach to cup my breast. I was a healthy C cup. There was more than enough for my hand, but I wondered how I would fit in Logan’s palm. And that made my breath catch. My fingers brushed my nipple and then squeezed it harder. A small whimper escaped me as my mind played over last night.

I wiggled on the bed, an ache starting between my thighs as I worked my fingers over my breast. My lips tingled, remembering the press of Logan’s warm mouth on mine, moving surely . . . his tongue. Wishing it had been more. Wishing I hadn’t run away.

Idiot. Wrenching my hand off myself, I rolled over onto my side, punching my pillow with my fist twice, feeling somewhat better and vowing to forget about Logan. He was not the kind of guy I needed to fixate on. I knew the kind of guy that worked best for me . . . If I found him, great. If not, then I was just fine alone. I had a bright future with or without a guy in it.

I drifted off to sleep, feeling angry at myself, which was probably a bad idea. I slept fitfully, weird images plaguing me.

I was drowning in my dream, tangled up in an ocean full of pearls. I kept waving to the lifeguard standing on shore, who was Harris one moment and then Logan in the next. Finally hearing my cries, Logan dove into the pearls and swam out to me, but before he could reach me I went down, choking, lost in a sea of pearls.

MONDAY ROLLED AROUND AND I got so busy that I didn’t get around to calling Mr. Berenger. At least that’s what I told myself. Tuesday arrived, though, and I still didn’t call him.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Reece’s offer to stay in the apartment above Mulvaney’s. It tiptoed around me, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts every day. I turned it around in my head, trying to rationalize how I could make it work, how I could do something like that without my parents totally flipping out on me. Simple. I couldn’t.

When Mom called Wednesday night to check on whether I had called about the bank job, my excuse sounded lame even to my ears.

“Sorry, Mom. My study group ran late. By the time I got out it was past five.” I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror hanging on my door. I was a horrible liar. If Mom could see me, she’d know. My brown eyes had gone really big under my eyebrows and the color faded from my skin—like I was surprised at the words coming out of my mouth.

“This isn’t like you, Georgia. I asked you to call him on Monday. I’m starting to wonder if you even want this job.”