Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
No surprise, but I couldn’t sleep that night. I put together a small art portfolio on my floor at three in the morning. A much more productive option than lying on the couch and watching Sex in the City for three hours.
Prints and slides fanned out over the rug like an archaeological dig of my brain. Wire-and-plaster pieces from Sculpture II. A few charcoal studies. The mixed-media canvases.
Thankfully, I’d borrowed a portfolio case from the studio a couple of weeks ago when I took a few paintings to my parents.
I’d berated myself for not returning it yet, but now it was coming in handy.
I swapped out one photo for another, then swapped it back.
It really wasn’t a life-or-death situation. I wanted a job, not representation.
Jenna stuck her head in around eight. I’d filled her in on the opportunity last night after coming up with a story to explain my lengthy phone chat. It was networking, that was all. I left Logan’s name completely out of it.
“Need a ride?”
“I’m borrowing Rob’s truck.” He was gone for the weekend at the tournament and always left a spare set of keys out for me. “Thanks for the offer, though.”
She nodded. “Tell me how it goes.”
“You know where I live.”
She snorted and retreated to the living room. I probably needed to make more effort with my roommates, too. They were kind enough to still give me the time of day even though I blew them off to be attached to Maddie and Shar’s hips the last couple of years.
Which reminded me . . . Tash. She would probably kill for an opportunity like this. I chewed on my lower lip. It wasn’t my invitation to make, but if it went well and something came of this meeting, then I could find a way to introduce her. Right? It was the best I could do at the moment.
I put on my coat and slung the case over my shoulder. Outside, Calgary had that early-winter blue where the cold punched straight through you, making you cough. Frost rimmed the fourplex steps, and my breath plumed in clouds as I half-walked, half-jogged the twenty minutes to Rob and Sharla’s.
I finagled the keys out from the wheel well, and the truck started up without much complaint. I’d printed out a map at some point during the night, and the directions weren’t hard. Still, my nerves did the wave during red lights.
Hi, I’m Crystal. Thank you for meeting me. Too formal.
Norman— too familiar.
Mr. Marcus, it’s an honour— too grovelly.
By the time I hit 17th Avenue, I’d landed on flattery. Full and complete butt kissing. That’s what he was surely used to.
Downtown rose up in front of me, all glass and steel with the Bow doing its quiet loop-the-loop under bridges. The sky was the colour of pencil shavings. Even with the heat on, I could smell snow coming. It always smelled like cow manure when a storm was blowing in.
Logan told me to meet at a warehouse near the turnoff to Stampede Park, down a side street with loading docks and dumpsters. A little murder-y, but I turned in, parked, and killed the engine.
That’s when I saw him.
Logan was leaning against the brick near an unmarked metal door, hands in the pockets of a charcoal coat, hair damp. With his fogging breath, he looked like he was posing for a magazine shoot.
I was the teensiest bit curious about him.
About what he looked like under his clothes.
Up close. Sure, I’d seen him strip off his shirt now and then, but I wasn’t looking.
Shar always used to talk about his abs or his shoulders.
It wasn’t his appearance that soured the relationship. That was for damn sure.
I shook my head and pulled out the keys. He straightened when he clocked the truck. Rob’s truck. It hit him, and he flinched just a little, his shoulders lifting and dropping, his hands shoving deeper into his pockets.
I would’ve felt a little guilty for bringing it, but Logan didn’t once mention that he’d be meeting me here. I thought I was showing up for a meeting with Norman Marcus solo, which was terrifying. If Logan had said he was coming, I might’ve been able to get some shut-eye.
I climbed out, portfolio banging the door on the way. “What the hell?”
“Good morning to you, too.”
I locked the door. “You didn’t say you were coming.”
Logan strode toward me with lazy steps. “You thought I’d make you come here by yourself?” He motioned to the dirty alley.
“Well, it is before noon.”
He scoffed. “Once again. Didn’t know I was that big of a dick.”
I stopped in front of him. “This self-deprecating thing isn’t a good look.”
Logan’s expression hardened. “It’s a good thing I don’t have to rely on my sense of humour then.”
Heat flashed in my middle. The fact that he was pulling me a solid at the moment flew out the window. “Hm. Still a big hit with the ladies?”
He wet his lips and nodded. “All they need to hear is NHL.”
“Nice.” I stalked past him before I could say something else I’d regret later.
I didn’t need to get into this with him.
Obviously, he hadn’t learned much from everything that happened, or maybe he realized he didn’t want a serious relationship.
That was an improvement, wasn’t it? Still, the way he said it.
Logan was excellent at pressing my rage button.
He jogged to catch up. “I was kidding.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“I’m not—I don’t sleep around.”
I shrugged, slowing when he edged in front of me. “You can do whatever you want. It’s not like I’m dating you.”
Logan watched me for a moment, and my heart picked up speed. Right as I was about to say something to break the silence, he nodded toward the door. “My mom’s already inside.”
I smirked, then continued on my path.
“What’s that look supposed to mean?”
“It was just a smile.”
Logan easily caught up with his long strides. “It was a judgy smile.”
“Not judgy. Just funny to think that you woke up because your mom told you to.” I reached for the door handle, but Logan’s wingspan doubled mine. Even from two steps behind me, he snatched it first.
I gave him a look. “Really? Chivalry?”
He did a little shrug, like maybe he didn’t want a gold star. “Can’t win with you.”
“Are you trying to?” I teased, but Logan didn’t laugh.
“Maybe.”
My stomach flipped like I’d just been double-bounced on the trampoline. I gripped the portfolio strap a little tighter. Maybe? What the hell did that mean? I really needed to kiss Jake or someone, preferably not Garrett again, because my body was clearly getting a little desperate.
We walked into a long, newly drywalled hall lit by end-of-day sunlight drifting through the dirty windows. “Can I ask something?”
“Shoot.”
“Why are you doing this for me?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly?”
“If you’re capable of telling the truth.”
That time, he huffed a laugh. As we walked a few more steps, his smile slipped a little. “When Shar broke up with me, I went into a whole . . . thing. Six months of trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Then I . . . ” His cheeks coloured.
“What?”
He shook his head. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Well, now you have to tell me.” I couldn’t get a bead on him. One minute he was making jokes about hooking up with puck bunnies, and the next, saying he was doing deep introspective work?
Logan dragged his feet, and he looked suddenly boyish.
My awareness of how much he’d changed since I saw him last snapped forward.
He had full stubble on his jaw, not just patches like before.
His face was leaner, like he’d lost the last of his baby fat.
He looked like a man, and that was . . . well, kind of a huge turn on.
I blinked and locked my eyes straight ahead, giving myself an internal lecture. Muscles good, muscles on Logan, bad.
He lowered his voice. “I called my other exes.”
My head whipped back toward him. “You, what?”
He nodded. “I know. Crazy. But after everything Rob said—”
“What did Rob say?” I couldn’t hide my curiosity. Shar told us that Rob had suggested Logan talk to her before she moved out, but everything we heard from the guys told a slightly different story. Involving dropped gloves and bloody noses.
“I don’t know if I should—”
“Logan!” A woman with a classy, blond bob appeared through a doorway across the open warehouse space. Her heels clicked against the concrete floor. “For goodness’ sake, what took you so long?”
Wow. That had to be Logan’s mom, and it turned out she was super hot.
She looked completely out of place in her pencil skirt and light pink blouse against the mess and construction.
The concrete floors were dusted with saw grit.
Scaffolding lined the walls where they were installing specialty light fixtures, and worklights threw yellow pools across taped-off rectangles on the floor.
And here she was, all shiny and fresh. She probably smelled like Yves St. Lauren.
My foolproof rubric for judging someone’s level of wealth.
“Sorry.” Logan smiled and pulled her into a bear hug. “Just catching up.”
She pushed back and adjusted her hair, then gave him a look that said “get the hell in there, you’re late” before turning her attention on me. “You must be Crystal?”
I nodded, feeling very underdressed in my jeans and sweater. But they were my nice jeans. I put out a hand and shook hers in greeting.
She looked me up and down. “I’m Alice. Come on. We don’t want to keep Norman waiting.”
Logan flashed a smirk, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. See? That’s how you say his name like a normal person. I swallowed my snarky reply, not wanting his mom to overhear it. But it would’ve been a good one.
We walked into a makeshift office with cloudy tarps as walls.
Norman Marcus stood at a long table covered in drawings and coffee cups.
Black turtleneck, silver glasses, salt-and-pepper hair that curled neatly at the collar.
He looked like the kind of person who could stare a painting into hanging straighter.