Single Mom’s Guide to Love (Guide to Love #2)

14. Maeve

14

maeve

“I told you Maeve, I don’t care about the color of towels. Just pick what you like.”

I let out a frustrated groan, because how can I keep having the same conversation with a person over and over? And I say this as a mom of a six-year-old who was once a very inquisitive three-year-old.

“For the hundredth time today, Logan, and like for every other thing we have picked out, it doesn’t matter to me. I like both, hence why I picked them. That’s why the final decision comes to you. You know, the man who will be using the bathroom every day.”

He gives the two samples a quick glance before turning his attention back to his computer, where it looks like he’s playing a video game. Because of course he is.

“Black or white? Isn’t that a little cliché?”

I shoot him a look. I know what he’s doing with that word. But I’m not falling for it.

“There’s a difference between cliché and classic. In this case, black and white fall under the classic category. So please, for the love of God, just pick.”

“Maeve, I really don’t care.”

“You have to care.”

“Says who?”

Can this man be any more infuriating?

Or any more good looking?

I hate that I still can’t get over the second one.

“Me. I say you have to. And the quicker you answer my questions, the quicker you can go back to your video games that are clearly more important than this.”

He turns his eyes to me, a little softer this time before looking at both samples. “Fine. The black. And I’m not playing a video game, I’m designing one.”

“Apologies, I didn’t know you were working.” And I mean that. Now I feel slightly bad. “And I promise you can get back to it that much faster if you just help me with three more things. Then I’ll be out of your hair and I can order all of these before everything’s shut down for Thanksgiving.”

I know Logan is frustrated, but in my defense, he’s not making it easy on himself. I’ve taken the last few days to narrow down the order of spaces I need to tackle, what I need for these projects, and how many days each of them will take to complete. There’s a small list of things that can wait until after—rooms no one will be going in—but the perfectionist in me would love to have it all done before Christmas. Then I can start the new year without the presence of Logan in my life.

But for that to happen, I needed one day of his attention. Hell, I needed two hours. He was prepared for this. I emailed him that I was stopping in this morning and that today was the day he was spending money.

It’s also the day I’m seeing if I indeed have an unlimited budget.

I’ve had clients in the past tell me to spend what I needed to, but in reality, they didn’t mean it. They’d either put a stop to a purchase or tell me that I could buy the expensive item, but to watch the budget in other areas.

But not Logan. I told him I was buying a hideous twenty-five-thousand-dollar chandelier. I never would’ve done such a thing, but this was the ultimate test of whether he trusted my instincts.

He told me to buy it. Said that I must have a vision and to do what I needed to do.

My jaw was on the floor.

He’ll find out I didn’t buy the chandelier at a later date. But he passed the test, which is good. The favors I’m calling in to distributors, in addition to purchasing on-the-fly, high-end furniture and decor, is costing a pretty penny.

“Only three more items?” Logan asks. “But I’m having so much fun.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Sarcasm doesn’t hit the same with a British accent.”

This makes him laugh. “You’re right. It’s something in the inflection that doesn’t make it as effective. Also, in my defense, I don’t think I learned true sarcasm until I met Kat.”

“Really?” I ask as I show him two tile samples and he points to the one I liked most. “When did you two meet?”

“University. We met at orientation.”

I wasn’t expecting that. “Did she go abroad for college?”

He shakes his head. “The opposite. I came here. Stanford specifically.”

“Wow.” I never would’ve guessed that. “Can I ask why? I mean, people would kill to have Oxford or Cambridge essentially in their backyards.”

His jaw clenches at my question.

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Actually, we should move on to carpet samples for the bedrooms.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “Let’s just say I wanted out of my situation and wanted to go the farthest I could. California seemed like a good choice.”

I can tell he’s done with that part of the conversation, but the part of me who wants to know everything in order to fix everything is dying to know the rest at some point. “Well, you picked correctly. You can’t argue with the results of your life after college.”

His shoulders relax just slightly with the shift of topic. “You’re right. And I actually owe it all to Kat. She believed in me. She convinced me to keep developing SpaceCraft. And she helped me in the early days of the company. I wouldn’t be here without her.”

A sudden, unexpected—and unwanted—twinge of jealousy runs through me. Am I…jealous of Kat? No. Can’t be.

I don’t think they’re together. He said she was his best friend. And he’s way too nonchalant about me being around considering our brief history. But were they ever? Does he want to be? Does she?

Wait, why do I care? I’m the designer. He’s the client. Who he did, does, or will date is none of my business.

“Everything okay over there Maeve?”

Shit. Am I busted? I try to gauge the temperature of my cheeks, and I don’t think they’re red. “What? Yes. Fine. Why do you ask?”

Just in case they are, I start to dig through my bag to find carpet samples that I know are on the top. Anything to not make eye contact with him.

“In case you wondered, Kat and I aren’t together. We’ve never been together. Will never be together. She’s my best friend and my publicist, and as I get settled in Nashville, my assistant. But she’s not my type, and I’m definitely not hers.”

“Great,” I say, trying to sound disinterested about the words that are internally setting me at ease.

Even though—how could she not be his type? Hell, if she asked me out I might say yes, and I never even went through a college curiosity phase. She’s gorgeous, with jet black hair and a perfectly curvy body. She looks like a fifties pin-up girl. Or one of those models I saw him photographed with in my recent Google searches that I made Stella do for me because I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“I must ask, and not that I care, but maybe just curious, how is she not your type? Didn’t I see an article with you on the arm of a woman who looks nearly identical to her?”

This makes him laugh. “Maeve Banks, I didn’t pin you for a gossip rag kind of woman.”

“I’m not,” I groan, hating that my curiosity is getting the best of me. “But my sister Stella is. She maybe, one time, recently, showed me an article featuring you and your…”

Girlfriends? Hookups? How do you say this tactfully to a man who’s your client, who was once your one-nighter, who you can’t stop thinking about naked, even though you’ve specifically instructed your brain to cease and desist?

“Setups,” Logan says directly. “Those were setups. Nothing more, nothing less.”

I think there is something more, but I don’t press. “Okay, then. Anyway, back to carpet samples.”

I go to show him two, but Logan puts his hands over the top of mine, covering the two pieces of carpet.

“Maeve.” The way he says my name feels different, as if he’s pleading with me to hear words he’s not saying. “I know I’m in the media a lot. But please, don’t believe what you read or see. There’s a lot more to the story.”

Logan lets go of my hands and sits back in his chair, but I don’t think I move.

There’s more to his story. I know there is. And I want to know. I want to help. I want to fix whatever he’s going through, because it’s clearly something.

But because that’s what I do. No other reason.

None whatsoever.

“Mommy. This is the biggest house I’ve ever seen!”

I chuckle at Jayce’s reaction as we pull up to Logan’s mansion. “I know, buddy. Remember what I said about when we go in?”

“To not wander off because I might get lost.”

“Very good. What did you bring to keep yourself busy while Mommy works?”

He holds up his handheld video game controller. “My SpaceCraft game.”

Of course he did…

“Sounds like fun,” I choke out as I put the car in park. There isn’t a lot going on here today since it’s the day before Thanksgiving, which is also why Jayce is with me. Today began Thanksgiving break, and he doesn’t go to his dad’s until tomorrow morning. Normally I wouldn’t work today, but because of the crazy time table I’m on, I needed to do a walkthrough with the painters, carpet installation crew, and the assistants on my team that I’m bringing in to get the job done in time. Hence why today is unofficial Take Your Son to Work Day.

Shit, should I have asked Logan if it was okay for me to bring Jayce? Surely he won’t mind, right? It honestly didn’t occur to me to ask. I’ve had to take Jayce to jobs before, but normally clients aren’t living in the spaces yet. Then again, Logan designs games for kids, so he can’t hate them, right?

Right?

“Mommy, are we going inside?”

“Oh! Yes! Sure! Yup.” I ungracefully undo my seatbelt, grab my bag and get out of the car to let Jayce out of his booster seat. With our bags in hand, we walk up to the front door, which is opened by Kat before we can step in.

“Good morning. And oh wow! Who do we have here?”

She steps out of the way so we can come in from the chilly Tennessee almost-winter day. “This is my son, Jayce. Jayce, can you say hi to Miss Kat?”

Jayce buries himself into my leg, being the shy one he is.

“I’m sorry. He’s a bit shy at first. But once he gets to know you, be ready for him to talk your ear off.”

“No worries,” Kat says. “I don’t like strangers either. Or most people for that matter.”

“Don’t let her lie to you. Kat is the friendliest person I’ve ever met.”

My body warms when I hear Logan’s voice coming down the hallway. When I get my first glimpse of him, my jaw slightly drops.

Is he wearing a Batman T-shirt? Also known as the one thing in the world—besides anything to do with SpaceCraft—that will instantly make Jayce fall in love with him. Did I tell him I was bringing Jayce and I forgot about it? Or does Logan Matthews really have the oddest use of psychic powers known to man?

“Who do we have here?” Logan says as I shake off the vision of him in a Batman suit. “I’m Logan. What’s your name, little man?”

The feeling in my stomach that’s currently making me uncomfortable is not just my ovaries exploding, but the sight of Logan kneeling down to talk to Jayce at eye level.

“Jayce.” His sweet voice is so quiet it’s barely above a whisper.

“Well hello, Jayce. Are you coming to hang out with me, your mum, and Kat today?”

He nods, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Well, that’s great! But I have a few questions for you.”

Jayce looks up at me for reassurance, and I give him the nod. I don’t know what Logan is about to ask, but I’m not worried in the slightest. Any worry I had about this man objecting to bringing my son today went out the window when he beelined to Jayce instead of talking to the adults.

“First, do you like cinnamon rolls?”

I have to stifle a laugh. Jayce is simply answering with a vigorous head nod, however, the adult answer would be “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

“Great!” Logan claps. “Now, and this one is a long shot, but do you happen to like SpaceCraft?”

“Yes!” Jayce says with more enthusiasm than he ever has, while also showing him his handheld. “I brought it with me today!”

“Wow! That’s awesome. So, how would you like to sneak into the kitchen with me, get a cinnamon roll that we’re having for breakfast today, and then we can play SpaceCraft on a massively big screen!”

Jayce’s eyes have never been so big. “Mommy? Can I?”

“Of course you can,” I say. “But stay with Logan.”

“I will!” he yells as he takes off without Logan or me then stops and turns his head expectantly. Kat laughs and follows behind, turning Jayce in the right direction, leaving Logan and I standing alone in the foyer.

I feel the tension between us immediately. It’s an instant sensation any time we’re alone. Will it ever go away? I know it’s only been a few days, but I was hoping to start the desensitizing process by now.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shakes his head. “I know. I wanted to.”

Such a simple answer. But sometimes that’s all you need.

“Well, thank you. You’re going to make his day.”

He shrugs, like what he’s doing isn’t making my son’s entire year. “It’s my pleasure. Now, you go do your boring work with painters. I’m going to go play video games and eat cinnamon rolls.”

The smile on my face is instant. “Thank you, Logan.”

“Anytime, Love.”

If he catches what he says, he doesn’t react to it as he walks toward the kitchen.

And I don’t correct him. Because part of me missed him calling me that.

But just part of me. Because he’s just a client.

That’s all he can be…