Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Olivia
Praise from an enemy
is the most pleasing of all commendations.
~ Richard Steele
I’m pouring myself a much-needed cup of coffee—from my own pot. I love the specialty brew at Serendipi-Tea, but I can’t make it a daily habit. Besides, I saw Logan there two other times this week. I need a little distance from him. Or a lot.
What is that?
A small, clear wrapper catches my eye next to the coffee pot. It’s near the wall, tucked away from plain sight but not so far back that I wouldn’t have seen it when I wiped the counters after Megan left. How did I miss that cookie?
I pick it up and hold it in my hand.
Megan must have left this from our takeout. I thought they only sent two cookies. We ate them and read our fortunes aloud …. They were rather generic, as usual. Mine said, Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference. Megan’s said, You are kind and friendly. She laughed and then she said, “I want a do-over. That was a lame fortune.”
Wouldn’t she have grabbed another cookie if there had been one?
I guess not, since I’m holding this one right now.
I tear open the cellophane and crack the cookie in half, setting the two crisp, beige pieces on my counter and tugging out the paper fortune.
I read it aloud even though no one is listening. “ Nothing’s fishier than a woman who doesn’t admit her true feelings .”
What on earth?
I read it again and then drop the paper, letting it flutter to the ground. Fishy? What’s the likelihood I’d get a fortune about something being fishy the morning after Megan arranged a delivery of expired fish as a prank? And I admit my feelings. If anything, I’m prone to be far too vocal about them—at least with my family, friends, and coworkers I’ve known for years.
Crazy cookie.
Nothing’s fishier than a woman who doesn’t admit her true feelings.
“You know what’s fishy?” I tell the slip of paper at my feet. “You. You are fishy.”
I wad up the fortune and throw the whole cookie in the trash. I half expect it to jump back out and reassemble itself. But when I glance over my shoulder at my kitchen trash, the pieces all lay there like the inanimate random objects they are.
I walk backward out of my kitchen, leaving the remnants of the cookie and the paper safely in the trash while I head out for my run.
I don’t see Logan on my run. I don’t see him when I leave for work. But as I fling open the door to the Barnes building, rushing in because I’m a few minutes late and we’re meeting with the team from Untethered this morning, I nearly slam into Logan’s back.
“Good morning, Pennington,” he says without turning around from his spot just inside the doorway.
“Alexander.”
He walks forward, and I step around him, heading to the elevators at nearly twice my usual speed. I hear his footfalls pick up pace behind me. I don’t exactly speed walk, but I keep my head high and stride quickly enough to make it to the control panel first. I push the up button. The elevator doesn’t come right away, so Logan and I stand side by side, staring at the door, saying nothing.
When the light over the elevator hits one, the doors open. Logan stands back.
“Ladies first,” he says.
His voice is a touch deeper than usual, still raspy from lack of use in the early hours of the day.
“Since when do you let me go first?” I ask.
“There’s a first time for everything, Pennington. Now get on the elevator so we can meet our client.”
“Bossy,” I mumble.
He hums an infuriatingly pompous, “Hmm.”
Only Logan can actually make the most innocuous sound resonate with unnecessary pride.
I step onto the elevator. He follows behind me, hitting the four on the panel. The door shuts, leaving us secluded together, our situation underscored by all four mirrored walls. As usual, Logan takes up more than his fair share of space. Some people command attention. He’s one.
Logan catches my eye in our reflection in the silver doors.
And he grins just the slightest.
“Did you run this morning?” I ask him as the doors slide open.
“I did. I went before sunrise since we have this meeting. You?”
“I ran.”
“Did you miss me?” His smirk is barely visible, but to the trained eye.
“Hardly.”
We step out of the elevator at the same time, effectively lodging the entire side of my body between Logan and the doorway. He looks down at me and mouths, Ladies first . I nearly roll my eyes as I squeeze out ahead of him. Logan stands still like the monolith he actually is, inside and out. I make a break for the cubbies, where I stash my purse.
“The group from Untethered is in the conference room,” Charlie tells me. “They’re like gods and goddesses. In spandex. Or Lycra. Something synthetic that would make me look like the Michelin man. But on them?” He makes the sign of a chef’s kiss in the air. “Perfection.” He moves in closer and lowers his voice to a near whisper. “Between you and me, they make me crave donuts. Why is that?”
I chuckle. “I don’t know. But let’s get through this presentation, and I’ll treat you to some baked goods at lunch.”
“Oooh. You are my favorite content specialist. Have I told you that lately?”
I smile at Charlie. “I think you told me last week.”
Logan walks over to Charlie and me and, in a very terse tone, says, “They’re waiting.”
Logan strides past us toward the conference room.
Charlie makes his hand like a mouth and mocks, “ Meh, meh, meh, blah, blah, blah .”
I’m glad I’m not the only one.
The conference room is full of super-humans. I’m a competitive runner, training daily. I eat well. These people have never even said the word cheese. Not even when posing for a photo.
Darwin is already in the room when Logan enters, Charlie and me close on his heels.
The big screen at the front of the room displays the current Untethered logo. It’s good. But it could be better. Thoughts of Logan Alexander slip away as I focus on my job. The logo uses crisscrossed barbells as the Ts in Untethered. They’re cute, but the message is that you need to work out. Which is fine but perhaps not engaging for people who may not be initially drawn to barbells. My mind whirls with options.
“... and this is Olivia Pennington,” Darwin says.
I guess I got lost in my creative spiral and missed the start of introductions.
“Hi!” I say to the team seated around the table.
I take my seat across from the Untethered executives.
“It’s great to meet you all,” I say, making eye contact with each member of the Untethered team. I was just thinking about your logo. But we can get into that in a bit. I’m eager … we’re eager to hear your vision and plans for Untethered.”
We spend the next two hours gaining an understanding of their brand and exploring their target audience. We discuss content ideas, and Logan gathers information about their current digital strategies and platforms. He is good, I have to give him that. He asks for their analytics, gives them some creative options to consider, and discusses trends that might be beneficial for them to optimize as they expand their reach.
At the end of our meeting, the team from Untethered leaves with smiles, and we have a signed contract to officially serve as their marketing agency.
Darwin pulls Charlie, Logan, and me aside. “You three are a dream team. You answered every question with creative and professional responses. I’m so excited to see what you’ll do for Untethered. Good work.”
He pats Logan on the back after his speech, as if Logan has an extra stake in the game.
I try not to let it affect me. I wouldn’t want Darwin to pat me on the back. That would just be weird. But still. I don’t want him patting Logan on the back either.
Darwin walks away, and Logan turns to me. “Impressive work, Pennington. I like your vision for the logo. You were spot on about the need to rebrand. I’m glad they’re open to the concept.”
I stare at him and blink slowly.
My brain searches for a hole in his compliment.
I can’t find one.
“Uh. Thanks. You did great too.”
Bleeerrrgggh . What was that ? His compliment had finesse. And facts. And all I come up with is You did great .
“Great, huh? Wow. I may need that in writing, Pennington.”
He winks. And I can’t even believe what happens next.
My knees actually go slightly weak.
It’s a visceral reaction to a handsome man winking at me. It would happen with any handsome man. He’s a good winker. Of course he is. He actually winks in a way that makes my knees forget who it is that’s winking at them. Not that he winked at my knees. He didn’t. He winked at me. And my knees, weak and uninformed as they are, wobbled a little.
“Well, you’ll have to take my word for it,” I quip. “Because I’m not writing my assessment of your proficiency down unless you’re writing down what you said about me.”
I sound like a petulant third grader. Aaaand … it’s definitely time to take Charlie out for the baked goods I promised him.
When I come back from lunch with Charlie, during which we each consumed a warm chocolate croissant, there’s a piece of paper at my workspace.
I pick it up and read it.
To whom it may concern:
It is my professional opinion that Olivia Pennington did exceptional and impressive work as a content specialist on the Untethered account. Her vision for the logo was spot on. Her rebranding concepts are fresh and on target for the goals of this client.
Sincerely,
Logan Alexander
What. On. Earth.
I reread the note.
“What’s that?” Charlie asks.
“Oh … nothing.” I fold the paper in half.
“Nothing, huh?”
“Yep. Nothing.”
“Work on your bluff game, my friend.” Charlie laughs.
But mercifully, Charlie doesn’t ask me to show him Logan’s note.
What’s Logan’s angle, anyway?
“Give me that note again,” Lynette says.
We’re on a sister-date, shopping and grabbing dinner.
I hand her the paper, which is now folded in quarters and slightly rumpled from the number of times I have taken it out of my purse, reread it, and stuffed it back in my purse.
She reads it again. “This is so sweet.”
“Right?!” My hands fly up. “What is he up to? I’ve read that thing over a few times, and I can’t seem to figure out his angle.”
“A few times? This thing looks like you sat on it, ran over it with your car, wadded it up and played badminton with it, and then, for good measure, chewed a bit around the edges. How many is a few in this scenario?”
“Maybe more than twenty. But for research and analysis. Strictly. Only that. What is he up to? Is this a basic kill me with kindness situation? Or am I missing something?”
“I think it might just be kindness—without the killing.”
“No. Nope. Lynette. This is Logan we’re talking about.”
“Logan two-point-oh. He’s six years older. Haven’t you changed in six years?”
“Yes. But fundamentally? No. I’m still me. And … he’s still him.” I look at my sister imploringly. “I still don’t trust him. After all we’ve been through, he seems … maybe different? But I should know better. Every time I ever let my guard down with that man, he swooped in and dominated, and I ended up losing something to him.”
“People change, Olivia. And sometimes they aren’t what we think they are. Maybe he’s just good at things.”
“Oh, he’s definitely good at things. He’s amazing. The best. That’s what’s so unnerving.” Lynette just stares at me.
“What? Why are you staring at me like that?”
“He’s the best?” She smiles a smirky smile.
“He’s the best, and that’s what makes him completely suspicious.”
“Mm-hmm.” She nods as if she has me figured out.
She doesn’t. Logan is perfect. And he’s up to something with that letter. I just don’t know what yet.
Thankfully, we drop the subject of Logan Alexander for the rest of our shopping trip and dinner date. I drive home with a few new things and a belly full of good food.
I stop at my mailbox to collect my mail. The door to The Serendipity opens, and I turn to see Logan walking in with Rhett.
That sweet puppy starts wagging his rear and whining at me, straining on the leash to come greet me.
You know what I love?
Dogs.
You always know where a dog stands. They don’t leave you notes full of compliments written in a clever and winsome ways that would be adorable if they weren’t rabid. No. If a dog is rabid, you know. And if they love you, you know. Dogs do not give mixed messages.
“You can come say hi,” Logan says to me. “Rhett won’t bite.”
“It’s not the dog I’m worried about,” I tell him.
I shut my mailbox and lock it.
Logan walks up next to me. I bend down and scrub Rhett behind his ears. He plops to the ground and makes a whining noise followed by a snorting sound while he rolls over and shows me his belly.
I plop down next to Rhett, setting my stack of unopened mail to the side and forgetting my surroundings as I fold my legs crisscross on the tile floor of the lobby.
“Such a sweetie,” I coo.
Rhett makes an impersonation of a coo. It’s more of a howl, but I swear he’s trying to copy me. He splays wider, as if to say, please, please, please don’t ever stop rubbing my tummy .
“I wasn’t going to stop, silly willy,” I tell Rhett.
He flips over onto all fours, and in the blink of an eye he’s in my lap, rubbing all over me and wagging with joy. I giggle. Rhett tucks his head under my arm and leans his whole body into me, giving me the best version of a dog-hug.
“Oh, you’re a cuddler, are you? Well, I love a cuddly man,” I coo to Rhett.
Then I look up along the pant leg in front of me, up past the belt, past the button-down shirt Logan wore to work today, to the stubble along his unfairly sharp jawline, past his full lips, which are tipped up in a soft smile, over those Grecian cheekbones to those eyes, which are studying me curiously.
“A cuddly man-dog,” I clarify when my eyes meet Logan’s. “I love a cuddly man-dog.”
As if that makes any sense whatsoever.
“Of course,” Logan says, the familiar stoic expression returning to his face. “I’ll just … get my mail. Do you want to …?” He holds the end of the leash out to me like some weird peace offering. And if Rhett weren’t attached to the other end, I’d drop that leather strap to the ground faster than you can say lobstah roll.
But Rhett is attached to the other end, so I take the leash and rip my eyes away from Logan so I can lose myself in his adorable dog again for the next few moments.
Rhett doesn’t attempt to follow Logan. He just snuggles deeper into my lap and leans on me like this tiny weighted blanket of cuteness. Then he looks up at me with those expressive eyes, and I swear he’s saying I love you, very, very much .
I lean my head down to his ear and say, “I know it’s quick, and we’ve only just met, but I love you too. Sometimes you just know. You know?”
Rhett turns and snorts right against my cheek, following the snort with a lick of his tiny little tongue. It’s not too gross, really more endearing than anything. This dog adores me. I need to plan a way to rescue him from his objectionable owner.
“I hate to break this up,” Logan says. He’s back to towering over me and Rhett, killing our moment. “But I’ve got to get to sleep. I’m on a long run tomorrow before work.”
Rhett pops up and trots over to Logan.
Okay. Okay. So the dog likes Logan. He knows who feeds him. It’s obvious he loves me.
Logan bends to pick up the leash, and a card falls from the top of his mail stack.
It lands next to my knee.
When Logan and I see the words on the announcement, our eyes lock.