9. Logan
9
logan
I grappled all morning with what my first words to Maeve were going to be. The options were, but not limited to:
“Surprise!”
“Long time, no see!”
Not saying anything, instead just gasping and acting shocked that she’s here.
Or, my personal favorite, pulling her into my arms, sending Kat on a senseless errand, and kissing the hell out of her.
I would’ve preferred that option.
As I was walking into the space that will eventually be my formal living room, I still didn’t know how I was going to tell her that I, in fact, was the asshole client that kept canceling.
Shit…she’s really going to want to call me an asshole, isn’t she?
Honestly, though? I deserve it. Even if I would’ve told her on the plane who I was, I was still going to be an asshole. Canceling on her as much as I did? I’m a proper prick. It’s why I opted not to tell her. Maybe, just maybe, I thought, if she saw me today she’d laugh about it. It was about a two-percent chance of happening, but it was still better odds than admitting my identity to her on the plane. That was a zero percent chance of success.
I knew I had one shot to get this right, which is why I rehearsed lines all morning. What I didn’t expect was to walk into the room and have every line I practiced disappear. I stood in the entryway, just watching her. Did she get more beautiful in the twelve hours we were apart? I mean, it’s not possible, but somehow she is. Her hair is slicked back in a bun again, showing off the perfect lines of her face and neck. The power suit she’s wearing is professional, yet somehow sexy. Probably because of the stilettos she’s wearing with it.
Lord, how I love a woman in heels…
She’s the whole package, which is why I hate that this is likely going to be the last time I see her. Because in a world where I canceled on her six times, she’s embarrassed from our night together, and I lied to her about being the mystery client, I don’t see how she agrees to take this job, no matter what kind of money I offer her.
My opening line finally hits her as I watch her slowly come to the realization that I’m in the room with her. It starts with a freeze in her body. It continues with her eyes opening and slowly turning toward the sound of my voice. And it ends just the way I thought it would—fire in her blue eyes and redness on her cheeks.
“You.”
Because I can’t help but get under her skin, I go along with it. “Me.”
I move to sit at one of the temporary chairs in the room. Until this morning we had nothing. Luckily Kat realized it and made a few calls.
The woman is super human, and I don’t know how I live my life without her.
I gesture for Maeve to sit, but she doesn’t. She even goes a step farther by crossing her arms and popping out a hip, showing me that in no way, shape, or form is she going to have a seat.
And as much as I’d love to poke and prod the bear, I know there’s only one way this ends up with her staying and decorating my home.
I need to grovel.
“Maeve, I’d like to start?—”
“What the fuck, Logan!”
Okay, groveling can wait. I have to go right into defense mode.
“I can explain.”
“Oh, you’re going to explain, all right! You’re going to explain a whole hell of a lot.”
I don’t say anything, as Maeve has started to pace in circles. Call me old fashioned, but I want to look a woman in the eye when I beg for forgiveness.
Because I know that’s how this is going to end—me on my knees, begging her to stay. And I’m okay with that. Because that’s what you do when you meet the woman you’re sure is the one who’s going to change your life.
“Are you going to say anything?”
Shit, I must’ve spaced off. “Sorry, Love. Can you sit, though? You’re making me slightly dizzy.”
I don’t know if it was the use of the word “Love” or my request that currently has her stabbing me with her eyes.
“Don’t call me that.”
The first one. Got it.
“Apologies, but please, sit. I’ll explain everything.”
Maeve lets out a huff before doing as asked. “Start talking. Now.”
Here goes nothing…
“I didn’t know.”
Her narrowed eyes clearly don’t buy that.
“Not until the airplane!” I clarify. “I promise you, not a second before that, and it even took a few questions for me to be sure.”
“Really, Logan? You think I’m that gullible?”
“Not at all, Lo—” I stop myself short before using the pet name. She’s already pissed at me enough. “Maeve, I promise you, everything that happened up until you tossed your mobile in frustration at my canceling again was purely by random chance.”
She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes. “So why did you sit down next to me if you didn’t know me? Why even talk to me?”
That I can answer.
“Because when you see a beautiful woman at a bar, you buy her a drink. And then you pray she’ll look your way.”
My direct reply throws Maeve for a second. She uncrosses her arms and sits up a little straighter, but uses the time to harden her stare at me again. I know she’s trying to look intimidating, but between the gray power suit, the hard line of her lips, and the slicked back bun, I feel like I’m getting yelled at by a sexy librarian. And as a kid who grew up checking out my maximum limit of books each week, this is unlocking a new fantasy I didn’t realize I had.
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” she says. Even though I’d bet today’s stock profits it does matter. “You knew on the plane and didn’t say anything.”
I slowly nod, knowing this is where the real groveling is about to begin. “I know you told me about being a designer the night before, but I never put two and two together. Hell, I didn’t even know we were both flying back to Nashville until I stepped on the plane. And if I can be frank, I canceled on these appointments so much I forgot about them.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Yeah, that stung. But I need to tell the truth from here on out, and I know some of it is going to hurt like bloody hell. “Do you want me to lie?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, then, here’s the truth. When I walked into the bar that night and I laid eyes on you, I couldn’t look away. When I asked you to go back to the hotel, it wasn’t to get you into my bed. I just wanted to spend as much time with you as I could because you fascinated me. That night? I thought it was one-and-done, and I know you did too. I was shocked to see you sleeping in the seat next to me on the plane. What were the odds? There I was all morning, trying to figure out how I could see you again, because one night just wasn’t enough, and there you were. Hollywood writers couldn’t script that.”
Maeve’s eyes are widening with every word. I don’t know if it’s a good or bad sign, but she hasn’t left yet. That has to be good, right?
“When I figured out who you were, I felt awful. I wrestled with myself for that entire conversation if I should tell you that I was the mystery client. I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.”
Her arms go back to cross. “Why am I here today? Why did you finally keep the meeting?”
I lean down and rest my elbows on my legs. Groveling is hard work. “When I realized it was you, it hit me how rude I’d been and how much I hadn’t respected your schedule or time. So I told Kat to make it work.”
“So this is pity? I’m only here because I slept with you?”
Ouch. That stung.
But she’s right. No use in lying about it now.
“If you were a stranger? No, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Wow,” she says, dragging the word out for an extra beat. “Well, thanks for being honest?”
“It’s not like that,” I say. Though I’m not sure if that’s the truth.
“Then please, Logan. Explain.”
It’s my turn to stand now. I can feel that I’m running out of time before she storms out. “I canceled because I would rather do literally anything other than talk about furniture or decorations. In many ways I’m still that broke nerdy bloke from Birmingham.”
“You’re a literal billionaire.”
I shrug. “I might have ten figures in my bank account, but I am who I am.”
“Great. Only I would get a frugal billionaire for a client.”
I try not to let my face show that she just called me a client. I doubt she realizes she said that, so I’m going to let it sit and not press my luck.
“Kat’s the one insisting I have the house professionally decorated. Something about me fitting in with Nashville elite and hosting fundraisers or meetings or something.”
“Or that you’re an adult and you can’t use milk crates as TV stands anymore.”
Oh, that trusty milk crate. It was blue and sturdy and perfect.
“That too. Kat finally convinced me I needed this done, but because I’m a pain, I kept finding reasons for her to cancel it.”
“Six times.”
I hang my head. “Yes. Six times. And I’m so sorry for that. I admit, I never considered what it was doing to the designer’s—I mean, your—schedule. I was selfish. And when I realized yesterday it was you, yes, I had her put the meeting back on. And yes, it had to do with our night together. I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t.”
I take a step toward her, hoping she can see the regret on my face.
“But more than that, I had her reschedule because I want to work with you. I want to see you turn this place into something beautiful. When I walked in, and your eyes were closed, you were envisioning the space, weren’t you?”
She doesn’t say anything, but I take that as a yes.
“Whatever you were envisioning, I want that. If it were up to me, yes, I’d have thrift store furniture, a few couches and a game room. And yes, I’m frugal, but that’s because I don’t like to spend a lot of money on things I don’t think I need. But I trust you, Maeve. I trust Kat telling me that I need to own up to my status. If you tell me I need to spend twenty grand on a couch, then I’ll do it. No questions asked.”
This seems to get a reaction out of her. “Really? You’d be fine with that?”
“Yeah, I would.” I take another step toward her. “In my business, when I don’t know something, I find people who do. And that is you, when it comes to this place. This can be what you want it to be, Maeve. That is, if you’ll forgive me?”
Well, I might not have gotten on my knees and actually begged, but that was a pretty good grovel if I do say so myself.
I watch Maeve, looking for any signs of which way she might go. I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but the longer she stays, the better I think my odds are.
Just when I’m starting to think I’m in the clear, Maeve shoots up from the chair, grabbing her tote and throwing it over her shoulder.
Dammit!
“That was a nice speech. Mostly believable,” she says, our bodies only a few inches apart. “And even if it was true—which I’m sorry, there’s just too many coincidental things for it to be—I can’t work for someone who lied to me. Or that I slept with. That’s just…it would never work. So, it’s best that we end this meeting now.”
Maeve starts storming out of the room, but luckily I’m quick enough to stop her before she can exit. “Maeve, please…”
A surge of heat passes through us, and judging by her expression, she’s feeling it too.
Is she remembering that first kiss? Or the heat and tension that passed through us while sitting at the bar? Or when I had her pressed against the door? Or when my face was buried between her legs?
I study her eyes, and for a second, I see the face of the woman I met the other night. And then just as quick, her eyes refocus, and I realize that this is it.
“Goodbye, Logan.”
And with that, she pulls her arm from my hold, marches down the hallway, and out the door.
Game over.