Chapter 8 – pippa
PIPPA
An icy wind blows at the hem of my black wool miniskirt. I grab at the hem to make sure it doesn’t blow up. I’m not trying to give everyone on the sidewalk a show, thanks.
When I put this outfit together, I felt sophisticated and sexy as hell.
I’ve got my second date tonight, this time with some wealthy real estate guy I matched with on Keepr.
After that whole weird moment with Ryan in the kitchen, I needed a few glasses of spiked eggnog to wipe it out of my mind.
That meant I was pretty drunk when I accepted Logan’s date invite, but hey, he can’t possibly be worse than my first date.
Honestly, I was drunk enough that I don’t remember Logan that well, and part of me wishes I could cancel. Unfortunately, I’m in a real time crunch, so here I am, walking to a nearby bar famous for their over-the-top tacky Christmas decorations.
The wind howls again, whipping my short skirt and making me question ever choosing to wear it. Dammit, why did I have to let Ryan get in my head?
I managed to miss seeing him all day. He was still asleep when I woke up, so I took the train home.
I spent the day hiding in my room, shining a laser pointer around for Waffle to chase.
After trying on a few outfits, I decided for an outfit I knew made me look sexy as hell.
An off-the-shoulder long-sleeved shirt, my black wool miniskirt, and my thigh-high boots that make me feel like a cross between a super spy and a Victoria’s Secret angel.
Under it all, I had lace-lined thigh-highs held up with a garter belt.
Not that I was planning on letting Logan see the garter belt, but it made me feel hot.
Unfortunately, Ryan was camped out in the living room, pounding an energy drink while he watched something trashy on Sequel. I was gratified to see he looked like shit, his eyes bloodshot and his hair even messier than usual.
“How’s the hangover?” I said, deliberately loud.
He glanced over at me, watching me zip up my boots. “Wow, you should wear a shorter skirt,” he said sarcastically.
I rolled my eyes. “You should wear a ball gag, so I don’t have to listen to you.”
At the time, I thought it was just Ryan coming up with a reason to give me shit. But ever since I left the house, the short skirt has been bugging me. Was it slutty-short? Was Ryan right? I mean, he never has been before, but there has to be a first time.
I tug the skirt down again and resolve to keep my knees closed tonight.
When I arrive at my destination, I’m greeted with the scent of cinnamon and gingerbread.
The bar is the definition of Christmas tacky-chic.
Giant light-up snowmen, the kind you normally see on lawns, are propped up in the corners.
Sparkly fake snowflakes and shining Christmas ornaments hang down from the ceiling, and there are bowls of candy canes at every table. I love it immediately.
Logan’s waiting for me already, reading his menu.
With his dark hair and slim frame, he reminds me of a young Adam Brody.
He’s dressed in a black cashmere sweater and black trousers, both of which look really expensive.
I’m guessing he bought them new off the rack instead of digging through thrift store bins, hunting for hidden gems like I do.
Overall, he looks way better than he did in his pictures. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
He grins when he sees me. “Looks like you got the dress code,” he says, gesturing at our all-black outfits.
“I feel more like the goth who didn’t get the uniform for the job at Santa’s workshop,” I say, gesturing to the decorations around us.
“Hey, you don’t need to look like Will Ferrell in Elf to be a master toymaker. Put a wooden hammer in your hand, and I bet you could bang out some great toy cars, or whatever kids want this year.”
I slide into the seat across from him and grab the menu. It’s full of cocktails with cute Christmasy names.
“Would you judge me if I ordered the eggnog espresso martini?” Logan says. “I know it’s girly, but it sounds great.”
“I fully support a man’s right to drink girly drinks, and I’ll only judge you if you don’t give me a sip.”
He chuckles. “What are you getting?”
“I might go for the hot buttered rum. I need something to warm me up after walking here. I love Christmas, but I get tired of the cold weather pretty quickly. It makes me want to go somewhere hot and sunny.”
“For sure. How did you like the Bahamas?”
I pause, cocking my head. “How did you know I went to the Bahamas? I didn’t think I put that in my profile”
He hesitates. “I guessed when I saw that picture of you at the beach. It’s just the first place I think of when I think of a tropical vacation, you know?”
Huh. A little uncanny, but maybe it’s just a coincidence. “I mean, what’s there to complain about? It’s the Bahamas. Let me sit on a beach and drink a pina colada and I’m happy.”
“She likes pina coladas. I’ll make a note,” he says.
“And getting caught in the rain.” He looks blankly at me, prompting me to add, “You know, like the song.”
He laughs. “Oh, yeah. Right. So, tell me about yourself. You’re a writer for Belladonna, right?”
I raise my brows. “Wow. You did your research on me, huh?”
His cheeks turn pink. “I may have Googled you before we met up. There aren’t a lot of Pippas in Toronto, it turns out.”
“I was always the only Pippa in my class,” I admit.
“Lucky. There were five other Logans in my high school. Lots of turning around when someone’s talking to a totally different guy.”
Overall, the date goes pretty well. Logan tells me about his real estate job, fully admitting that buying and renting out office buildings isn’t the most interesting job in the world.
He seems more interested in me than talking about himself, which is refreshing.
He asks question after question about my work at Belladonna and adopting Waffle.
When I tell him I’m staying with my stepbrother for a while, he cocks his head.
“How’s that going?”
“Terrible. He’s a total manwhore, so there are always girls cycling through the place.
” Although, now that I think of it, I haven’t actually had to deal with one of his conquests since The Giggler.
“He’s a slob, too. I had to threaten his life to get him to throw his empty cans in the recycling.
And I can’t say a word without him giving me shit about it. ”
Logan shakes his head. “He sounds like he sucks.”
“Hopefully it’s temporary. Once I find a new apartment, I can go back to avoiding him as much as possible.”
When the waitress comes by to ask about a second cocktail, Logan takes her up on it, and I ask for sparkling water instead.
At the end of the night, he insists on paying for our drinks and walking me home.
Cute and a gentleman. Even though I’m not bowled over by his personality, he’s probably worth giving a second date.
So when he reaches for my hand on our way home, I let him hold it.
Why not? With his hand soft and warm in mine, and the streetlights casting his features in sharp contrast, I think maybe I could even go for a third date.
The walk feels much shorter with him at my side and I’m a little sad when I pull him to a stop on the sidewalk outside the front entrance to the House of Cards. “This is me.”
Logan looks shyly at the ground. “Thanks for coming out with me. I had a really nice time.”
“I did, too.” I squeeze his hand.
“I was going to text you later, but—what the hell, right? Would you want to go out again?” His eyes meet mine, his face flushed in a boyish way that I can’t help but find charming.
“Yeah. I’d like that. Actually…” I pause. I hadn’t planned on inviting Logan upstairs, but he’s acted like a gentleman all night. My instincts tell me that if I have him up for a nightcap, he won’t push. “Do you want to come up to my place for a beer or something?”
“I’d like that.” He flashes me a crooked smile. “I have to meet your famous cat.”
“Were the two dozen pictures I showed you at the restaurant not enough?” I tease him as he opens the door for me.
I’m already mentally drafting my article about the date when we walk into the House of Cards lobby. At Toronto’s cheesiest Christmas bar, I learned that not all dates have to be Scrooges…
“Who’s this? Did the guy actually stay till the end of the date this time?”
My hair stands on end when I hear an unwelcome voice.
I turn to see Ryan walking out of the downstairs nightclub, Velvet and Vice, in his usual half-unbuttoned shirt.
I can practically smell the whiskey coming out of his pores.
He smirks at Logan, and my hand curls into a fist. How has Ryan managed to crash yet another date?
“Logan, this is Ryan,” I say through gritted teeth. “My unfortunate roommate.”
Ryan claps Logan on the back so hard, he lets go of my hand. “Great to meet you, Logan. Now, I’m dying to know how your date with my annoying stepsis was.”
I cross my arms. “Oh, screw off, Ryan.”
“I’m just trying to get to know your new boyfriend,” he says, wrapping his arm around Logan’s shoulders. Logan cringes uncomfortably.
“I see what you were talking about, Pippa,” he says.
Ryan freezes. “What do you mean?”
“Pippa told me all about you,” Logan says. “I’m not surprised to see you can’t respect her boundaries.”
“Well, she just looooves to talk about me on her dates.” Ryan glares at me, his displeasure evident in his downturned lips. “Guess she doesn’t have that much else to say.”
He curls his arm tighter around Logan’s shoulders, and I’ve had enough. I shove Ryan away, making him let go of my date. “I told you to leave us alone!”
“Dude, I was just joking around. You don’t have to freak out.” Ryan puts his hands up in mock surrender.