Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
I tried to broach real topics on our drive, but Logan was a steel lock box. He smoothly transitioned away from talk about family or friends and instead asked about my classes, then happily rehashed the game from the night before after I made my excuses for missing it.
The trip went by in a blink, and I couldn’t hide my pure delight when we pulled up to the Banff Springs.
I’d seen it before, but not since I was a kid.
Up close, it was a fairytale castle with stone turrets, sloping roofs, and warm, glowing windows.
The mountains rose behind it like they were posing for a photograph.
Logan pulled into the circular drive and waited in the valet line. I’d never done valet parking in my life.
“Ready?” he asked, handing one of the staff his keys.
I nodded. He insisted on unloading the bags, and we headed inside the lobby.
The stone arches and plush carpets took my breath away. A fireplace crackled in one corner. Someone’s child climbed a leather chair and got gently peeled off by a woman who, by how young she looked, had to be the nanny.
Norman had arranged our reservation and left our names with the front desk staff. The attendant typed a few things into the computer and handed over two keycards in a branded cardboard sleeve.
“Standard king room. Third floor. Mountain view.”
My eyes widened. Umm, only one room? I was about to protest, when Logan took the keys. “Great. Thanks.”
We stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut, and I stared at the buttons.
“All good?” Logan cocked his head to the side.
“Uh, no. Not all good. I wasn’t planning to—I thought we’d both have our own room.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
I started at least three responses in my head, but didn’t answer. Why had I thought that? Norman believed we were together. I was suddenly regretting not going the Amish route with my refusal to do photographs.
“Yeah. I don’t know. I didn’t think it through, I guess.”
The elevator dinged.
“It’s a sleepover. It’ll be fun.”
Everything out of Logan’s mouth was something he would’ve said before the Palliser. Before I told him about Alice and Norman. But now, his words didn’t hold the same warmth. They were empty shells, sketched outlines, and I was desperate to reel in a sliver of that old connection.
“My parents didn’t let me have sleepovers,” I murmured.
Logan laughed as we stepped out into a gorgeous carpeted hall. Our room was at the end. He swiped the keycard and pushed the door open with his shoulder.
I stepped in behind him, my heart fluttering like a butterfly trapped in a jar. One king bed. Headboard. Fancy pillows. One kitchenette, an armchair. One small table. One bathroom door to the right.
“You’re very calm about this,” I said, as Logan set our bags down.
He shrugged, wandered over to the window, and pushed the curtain aside. “Grew up sharing rooms on the road. Bus bunks, motel double beds, couches. Not that different.”
I tried not to take offense to him comparing me to his hockey boys, but the snark still snuck into my voice. “You’re right. This isn’t different at all.”
He gave me a look. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Well, it’s what you said.” I couldn’t help getting a little snippy. Why couldn’t we just talk about what happened? Get back to where we were before?
Logan walked into the room, leaning a shoulder against the window frame. The mountain view behind him was painting worthy. Peaks, trees, little rivers of light from the town below. His silhouette didn’t hurt the view one bit.
“Relax, MacMillan. We’ll figure it out. You get the bed. I’ll take the chair. Or the floor. I’ve slept on worse.”
“You are not sleeping on the floor of the Banff Springs.”
He turned, a smirk on his lips. “We could have a pillow fight if that would make you feel better. That’s what you and your roommates do, right?
I laughed. “Oh, every night. In only our panties.”
“Perfect.” Logan gave a wolfish smile, and my throat thickened.
“You’re gross, Kemp.”
“I’m not the one who brought up panties.”
I cringed. Yeah, that was my bad. I glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Okay, we’ll resume negotiations later. We’re going to be late.”
We took turns in the bathroom to change, and I couldn’t help but notice there was a double shower head and a seat in the shower.
I tried to keep my imagination at bay as I put on tight black slacks and a blouse I’d borrowed from Jenna.
Logan changed into khakis and a Polo shirt, and I wondered if he’d made the same observations I had.
When we joined the others, Logan looked like he belonged there. I felt like I was playing dress up.
We made it through our lunch and the educational sessions that afternoon. Well, I did that portion. Logan took a nap in the hotel room.
The evening mixer was in one of the lower ballrooms. Strings of white lights draped from the beams, making the atmosphere dreamy. Just like the Palliser, servers flitted around with trays of wine and tiny appetizers.
Norman was already in full schmooze mode, flanked by board members, a couple of politicians, and a handful of people I recognized from earlier grant paperwork. I could pick out the MacIntyre Foundation guy by his eyebrows alone.
Logan and I were separated almost instantly. Norman wanted me to talk with one of the politicians, a woman from the province’s Arts Secretariat, and Logan was pulled away by his Blizzard administration team. Two other players were there, not Rourke or Haines, but I didn’t get a chance to meet them.
I tried to snag him when we moved toward dinner, but he was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, I ended up at a table with Alison Kerr.
We made small talk through the salad course, but when the main dishes were brought out, it finally got interesting. We dove into a philosophical discussion about experimental art, and though I didn’t have much to add, I had plenty of questions.
I absorbed every provocative opinion she dished out and scrambled to keep up, occasionally saying something that made her eyes light up.
I didn’t realize I’d downed two full glasses of red wine until Logan showed up, and I couldn’t remember why it’d been so awkward before.
“Hey!” I pushed my chair back and stood, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He chuckled. “Seems you’ve been having fun.”
“You have to meet Allison,” I said, motioning for him to join us. The man seated there earlier had left before dessert.
We both chatted for the last few minutes, said our goodbyes, and thanked Norman for the meal. Allison gave me her card, and I was on cloud nine by the time Logan and I made it back to the room. The buzz from the wine was dissipating, but I was still flying high on the conversation and connections.
How was this my life? How had I gone from anxious art student with zero prospects for the spring to rubbing shoulders with the most powerful decision makers in the province?
Logan Kemp was how.
I closed the door behind us with a soft click. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
Logan’s mouth quirked. “Tell me more.”
I laughed. “I’m serious. None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t introduced me to Norman Marcus.”
There was a small flash of something in Logan’s face, and it sobered me. Right. He probably didn’t want to hear anything about Norman at the moment.
I pulled a glass from the cupboard in the galley kitchen and gulped down some water. “Do you mind if I shower first?”
Logan shook his head. “No problem.” He dropped onto the couch, picking up the TV remote. “The Oilers are playing tonight.”
My eyes lit up. I’d never watched a game with Logan. He’d always been on the ice. “Okay. I’ll hurry.”
Logan was right. I needed to stop stressing about this whole room situation. We’d make it work just like we made everything else work in this crazy relationship scenario.
Maybe I needed to stop stressing about everything. People needed time to process new information, and the story I’d told him was a straight up bomb to the life he knew. I should cut him some slack.
I rushed into the bathroom and pushed my hair to the side to unzip my blouse, and frowned. The zipper wouldn’t budge.
I twisted in the mirror, perching on the counter to try and see what the problem was, but I couldn’t get a good angle. I tried pulling the blouse off without unzipping, but there was no way that was happening. Finally I gave up and walked back out to the living room.
The game was on, but Logan wasn’t sitting on the couch. My stomach dropped to my knees when I found him shirtless, his bag open on the bed.
The muscles in his back flexed, moving under his skin like ripples as he reached for a new shirt. His pants were undone, slipping off his hip on the right side, showing the line of his boxer briefs.
My mouth went dry, and I forced my eyes down to the carpet. “Um, can you help me?” I spun as fast as humanly possible and pointed to the back of my blouse. “I can’t get this zipper undone.”
“Oh, yeah.” He walked over too fast to have remedied his state of undress. Had he even buttoned up his pants?
I shivered as his fingers brushed my neck.
“Sorry. Cold hands.”
I coughed. “No, it’s fine.”
He brushed my hair further to the side, leaving a trail of heat along my skin. “I think the fabric is stuck.”
“Yeah, it wouldn’t move for me.”
He fiddled with the mechanism. “I don’t want to rip it.”
“Well, I have to take it off, so if it rips, I’ll get Jenna a new one.”
“This is Jenna’s?” He tugged on the fabric, and I nodded. “It looks good on you.”
My stomach swooped. “Thanks.”
Logan let out a grunt. “My fingers are too fat.” He did have large hands. “I’m just going to—”
I gasped as his breath hit the back of my neck.
“—use my teeth.”
Logan’s lips tickled my skin as he caught the fabric and tugged.
“Got it,” he murmured, his voice rumbling through me.
His hands landed back on my shoulders, dragging the zipper down with deliberate care.
The little metal teeth made a soft tick-tick-tick sound as they parted.
Cool air hit my skin as his fingertips brushed my spine.
When had I closed my eyes?
“What’s this from?” Logan parted the fabric, touching the middle of my back.
I swallowed, my throat thick. “Waterslide. I scraped the skin there, and the pigment never came back.”
“Hmm.” His hand still hovered, and gooseflesh pricked my skin.
I could have stepped away. Probably should have, but I didn’t. I stood there, waiting.
Logan’s hand trailed back up, tracing the knuckles of my spine, then pausing at the edge of the fabric. He brushed it over the edge of my shoulder, fingering the strap of my bra.
I tilted my head, exposing my neck, remembering what it felt like when his lips hovered there in the hall of the Palliser.
I sucked in a breath as he moved in closer. His left hand threaded through my hair, tilting my head further, and as he curled over me, his lips finally meeting the tender skin stretched open for him, heat crackled through my veins.
My hand shot up, cupping his jaw, pulling him closer.
This. I wanted this. Something. Anything. Maybe we couldn’t get there in words at the moment, but in just a few short weeks, this connection we shared had grown to eclipse every other relationship in my life.
That realization sent a jolt down my spine. Did Logan feel the same way? He always seemed excited to talk, and he’d gone out of his way to help me, multiple times. Was that his way of telling me his feelings were changing, too? Was that why he was kissing me now?
Logan spun me to face him, twisting me in his arms. His breath was minty, his scruff rough against my cheek.
Was I going to stop this? I considered it. But then Logan’s mouth met mine, and as my hands splayed against his chest, I realized there was no way in hell they’d be willing to let go.