CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Logan
“So, you gonna tell me where we’re goin’?” Tess asked from the passenger seat.
It was finally Friday—the night of their first real date.
There wasn’t really a reason to be so cryptic, but Logan had withheld the information—in part—because he worried that if he told her, she’d want to invite her whole gang.
And not that he didn’t like her friends.
He did. It’s just that they were around all the time.
“Manchester.” He glanced over from the driver’s seat. “Also, I hope I didn’t oversell it. It’s just dinner and a concert.”
“Oh my gosh,” Tess said. “Are we going to see Def Leppard?”
He smiled at her excitement. “I don’t want to beat the whole eighties thing to death, but given your fondness for the era’s music, I thought you might like it.”
“Are you kidding? I love it. Hah, this is gonna be so fun.”
On the hour-long drive south, Logan kept the conversation light and low-key. After what he’d almost done the day before, he felt so guilty that he couldn’t even mention her business.
When she’d left him alone in her office to go golfing, Cooper’s suggestion to rifle through her files had crossed his mind.
He’d quickly quashed the temptation, but remained embarrassed that he’d entertained the idea for more than a second.
Yes, he and Cooper still needed information, but he refused to debase himself by snooping in her stuff.
Instead, he gave updates on the construction, listened to a story about a teenage squatter, and asked about her golf game.
When they checked into the hotel, he offered to get separate rooms. She said one was fine, but to prove he wasn’t presuming anything, he compromised and requested a room with two beds.
After a quick dinner at the hotel restaurant, they walked the short distance to the concert venue.
“Third row?” Tess said when they found their seats. “These must have cost a fortune. You should let me pay you for my ticket.”
“No way.” She still thought he was poor. A twinge of guilt slid up his spine. If he couldn’t yet admit to buying her store, he should at least come clean about his financial situation. “I have a confession to make,” he said.
“Save it.” She turned toward the stage. “Show’s starting.”
Logan couldn’t help but smile watching Tess enjoy herself so freely—scream-singing along with every song, jumping and cheering like a lunatic, and of course, her special brand of “dancing.”
Midway through the show, the lead singer caught sight of Tess and pulled her out of the crowd to join him. She jumped onto the stage and eagerly commenced her herky-jerky dance moves.
At first, Logan thought the singer was making fun of her and was about to storm the stage and beat some ass. But he quickly realized the guy was getting a kick out of it and danced along with her, egging her on. Maybe her unique dance abilities were why he’d invited her on stage.
The concertgoers started to imitate Tess’s jilted moves. And she didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it. She laughed and sang with the band, either unaware or unperturbed by the entire crowd mimicking her.
One of the backup singers came up behind her, trying to get her to dance with him. Suddenly, he froze, eyes wide with fear, and clutched his chest.
Tess took less than a second to pivot into emergency mode, wrapping her arms around him to catch his fall and supporting his head as he hit the floor. She laid an ear over his heart, and after a quick assessment, started CPR. Right there on the stage.
By then, the music had stopped, and someone had moved the spotlights off the stage.
Logan could just make out Tess’s shadow pumping on the man’s chest while barking orders.
Someone ran off stage and returned seconds later, medics in tow.
Apparently, the band traveled with its own medical crew. Prudent, considering their age.
The audience watched in stunned silence until the other band members gathered around, forming a wall of privacy. The paramedics loaded the man onto a gurney and exited stage left.
The frontman came back to the microphone, visibly shaken.
“Okay, folks. Wow. That was intense.” He took a breath, trying to compose himself.
“We’re gonna take a little break. Get a handle on Ivan’s situation.
If it looks like he’ll be all right, we’ll finish the show. If not…well, let’s not go there.”
The crowd murmured as he trudged off stage.
Tess returned to Logan’s side, her face flushed.
“Crap. I’m hot.” She fanned herself. “Let’s go get a beer.”
He stared at her, dumbfounded she could be so calm. “Tess. That guy just had a heart attack.”
“I know,” she said. “I was there.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Yeah. I guess the least I can do is buy you a beer.”
While in line at the concessions stand, a man who’d clearly been over-served already slid up next to Tess.
“Hey,” he slurred. “Whas a pretty lady like you doing here all alone?”
“She’s not alone,” Logan growled. He slipped an arm around Tess’s waist and felt her chuckle.
The man ignored Logan and kept at it. “Can I buy you a drink, honey?”
“Seems like you’ve had plenty,” Tess said. “I’m good. Thanks.”
Undeterred, the man asked again, and Tess shot him down again.
“Read the room, dude,” Logan said. “And take a hike.”
On a dime, the man’s smile turned dangerous. “You gonna make me?”
“I will if I have to,” Logan said, rising to his full height, which was a good five inches taller than the loser egging him on.
“Come on,” Tess said. “Let’s just go to another concession stand.”
As they turned to leave, the man reached out and grabbed Tess’s butt.
She whirled around to confront him, but Logan beat her to it. Blood boiling, he went toe to toe with the man. “I said we’re done here,” he ground out. “Back away. Now.”
Instead, the drunk sucker-punched Logan in the face. Caught off guard, it took him a second to register what had happened.
And by then, Tess had jumped in. “You asshole,” she shouted.
The momentum of the swing had put the man’s back to Tess, and she jumped on, wrapping an arm around his neck.
Logan regained his equilibrium and registered the situation. “Tess. I got this. Get off of him.”
The drunk was far less agile with a hundred and forty-pound monkey on his back, and he staggered trying to toss her.
It would have been laughable if Logan hadn’t been so pissed. Tess slid off, and once she was clear, Logan threw his own punch, connecting solidly with the man’s midsection. He hunched over, sucking wind, desperate for air.
By now, a crowd had gathered and was clamoring for a fight. Logan had no interest in spending the rest of the night in a police station.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said. Tess nodded and grabbed his hand. They parted the crowd and walked away briskly, passing two security guards, who were heading toward the commotion.
As soon as they cleared the guards, they started jogging until finally, they were running. Once they’d put enough distance between them and the fight, they keeled over laughing.
“There is never a dull moment with you, is there?” He asked after catching his breath. “You wanna stay to see if the concert resumes?”
Before she could answer, the lead singer returned to the stage. Logan and Tess were in the walkway, outside one of the entrances, but heard him call everyone back.
“Great news,” he said, relief palpable. “Because of the quick thinking of our pretty brown-haired friend, docs say Ivan needs surgery, but that he’s gonna be fine.”
The auditorium erupted in cheers.
“Where is our hero anyway?”
Logan peeked into the arena and saw the speaker shielding his eyes from the spotlight, searching the area around where he and Tess had been.
“He means you,” Logan said. “Come on. We gotta go back so you can get your accolades.”
“Nah,” she said. “Let’s bail.”
“You sure?” At her nod, he acquiesced. “Okay.”
They were still laughing about the fight when they tumbled into the hotel room.
“Oh, your face.” Tess gently touched the spot where the drunk man had connected with Logan’s cheek.
“Not the moneymaker,” Logan complained, glancing into the entryway mirror and gingerly fingering a small gash.
“I’ll be right back.” Tess grabbed the ice bucket and slipped out the door before he could protest.
When she returned, they made an ice pack from a sandwich-sized Ziplock bag she’d packed her tiny shampoo in. She whipped out a first aid kit, applied a butterfly bandage to the cut, and pressed the ice pack to his face.
“You always carry a first aid kit?” he joked.
“Of course I do.” Her tone indicated he was the dum-dum for not carrying one. “What kind of prepper would I be if I didn’t?”
“Touché.”
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
“Nah.” It did, but not enough to complain about it. “I’m just mad I let him get the jump on me.”
“It’s definitely been an eventful night,” she said, sitting beside him on the bed.
“You’re amazing,” he blurted. He’d seen so many sides of her tonight—joyfully singing along with the crowd, inhibition-free dancing in front of thousands, effortlessly saving the band member, fearlessly jumping on the drunk guy’s back, and tenderly giving him first aid.
Add to all that, she was beautiful, smart, and funny.
Amazing didn’t begin to cover the many attributes of Tess Walker, but it was what came out.
“Thank you,” she said. “You’re not too bad yourself. Thanks for sticking up for me. I love swift justice, and you knocking the wind out of that idiot was very satisfying.”
He kissed her then. Soft and slow. She laid a hand on his knee, and he thrust his fingers into her hair.
The ice pack fell to the floor. Followed quickly by their clothes and inhibitions.