Chapter 15 Logan #2
“You are. Now come on, let me get you a drink. I want you to…” I almost say meet my friends, but she knows them all. The full weight of that complication lands awkwardly, but I don’t dwell in it. “Come hang with everyone.”
“I’ve been looking for Pearl, actually. The front desk said she was up in the honeymoon suite with Jo, but no one answered when I went up.”
“She’s probably getting ready. I’ll text her.” I give her hand a tug. “Come on.”
She doesn’t move. “I don’t know, Logan.”
“Do you trust me?”
Her eyes come up to mine. In this light, the chestnut color nearly glows, and against the pale pink of her dress, her skin is radiant. Her brows pull together. Then, slowly, she nods.
It’s not a ringing endorsement, but I’ll take it. I pull her along, and she follows for a few steps before she stops and tugs back. I turn.
“What is it?”
“What are we doing, Logan?”
“How many times are you going to ask me that this week?”
“You keep changing the rules on me.”
I let go of her hand and cradle her face, leaning down to kiss her.
She tastes like mint gloss and something distinctly Rose.
Cinnamon and clove. When I pull back, I keep her close, because the restaurant is filling up around us.
“I keep changing the rules because what I said before wasn’t enough. Having you in pieces isn’t enough.”
“You’re saying all this here? Now?”
“Yes,” I reply, unapologetic.
“It’s barely been an hour since we agreed this was just vacation sex.” Her voice drops. “If your friends know we’re sleeping together, that complicates the no-strings thing we agreed on.”
I hesitate long enough for her to pull away, but in that split second, something cracks inside me.
I can feel it. Her leaving, now or later, doesn’t matter.
I don’t like any of it. She chews on her lower lip, eyes growing weary, like she’s bracing herself.
Her nerves are palpable, she thinks I’m going to fuck this up.
Her whole life, her sister has messed with her head, and I’ve barely scratched the surface of it.
She doesn’t trust me, despite the tepid nod she gave me when I asked if she did. I can’t imagine going back to New York and not seeing her again. I knew that back in her hotel room, and I know it now.
“Not just for this week. And not just a little, on the side. I want you. All of you.”
An alarm bell rings in the back of my head, listing all the reasons it’s a bad idea. She doesn’t know everything, and if she did, she wouldn’t be standing here. I push that down and hold her tighter.
“You terrify me,” she says honestly.
“Feeling’s mutual. So, we’re even.”
“Always a competition with you.”
“Keeps things interesting, don’t you think?”
She smirks. Her shoulders are still tense, her grip on my hand still tight, but she lets me lead her over.
Harlow’s eyebrows go up, and Griffin’s head swings toward me—though Dash and Sunshine take us in stride.
Rose accepts a glass of wine with an uncertain smile, and Reign has just materialized at the edge of the group when Pearl’s voice cuts across the room and I feel Rose go rigid beside me.
“Hello everyone! I am so pleased you could make this weekend. Through a hurricane, no less!”
A polite laugh moves through the room. That’s when Roger and Johanna slip in through a side door and take their places beside Pearl.
Rose had gone looking for Pearl. She was supposed to be up there with them. I glance at her, then back at the front of the room, where Roger stands beside Johanna without a single glance toward the crowd—toward his other daughter. Rose’s smile doesn’t waver, but her hand squeezes tighter in mind.
“My father, Roger, and his stunning new bride, Johanna—Jo, to those lucky enough to be close to her—are so excited to share this magical week with you all.” Pearl’s eyes sweep the room.
“As they prepare to take this step together, we’re here to celebrate their love, their—” She finds me.
Finds my hand around Rose’s. Her words falter before she smooths them over.
“Their happiness. Their future. Please raise a glass and welcome, on their last night as singles—Roger and Johanna!”
Everyone claps, and Rose lets go of my hand to do the same.
“Please find your seats and enjoy this marvelous dinner we’ve prepared for you this evening, featuring local chef Jorge Vasquez, whose menu showcases the very best of Georgian cuisine.”
“I didn’t realize she helped cooked,” Sunshine muses. Rose laughs, then Sunshine winks at her, then takes Dash’s hand and follows him through the restaurant.
I take Rose’s hand to do the same, but she stops me. “There’s no way we’re seated together.”
“Don’t care.”
She shakes her head. “Trust me, we aren’t.”
“Still don’t care.”
“Okay, except that’s not how seating charts work. If I take a chair that isn’t mine, I’m taking it from someone else.”
“Still don’t care.”
“This is fun,” she laughs, then shakes her head. “Let’s just find our seats. We can meet up after dinner.”
“I don’t think—”
“Please, Logan,” Rose says, a gentle plea in her tone. She doesn’t want to make waves.
“I don’t like it.”
“I know. It’s just dinner.” She leans up on her toes and kisses my cheek. I get my hand around her nape and kiss her properly, and she lets out a soft, pleased sigh against my mouth.
“Don’t leave without me. I mean it.”
“Enjoy dinner.”
It tastes like ash when I say, “You too. See you later.”
Rose moves through the tables, scanning for her name card, drifting toward the back edges of the room. Because that’s where they’d put her. Off to the side, out of the way, an afterthought in her own family.
And it pisses me the fuck off.
I find my friends and drop into my seat, unsurprised to see Pearl’s name card next to mine.
“What the hell was that about?” Griffin asks before I can even sit down. “You’re fucking baby sis?”
I glare across the table. “Don’t, Griff. Just, don’t.”
Sunshine leans in from my left. “That dress on her, though. I’m so jealous of those curves.”
Harlow, to my surprise, hums in agreement. “Me too. Most of us have to pay to get an ass like that.”
I change the subject, not wanting to talk about Rose’s figure with anyone, even a couple of straight women. I’m feeling deeply, irrationally possessive over her. “So, what have you all been up to this week?”
Griffin brightens and tells me about a drinking game he invented, built around the hurricane, which tracks. The entire week has been day drinking and killing time indoors, and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad my plane went down. Three days in a car with Rose beats whatever this was.
“They do have an indoor golf course,” Reign sighs beside his brother. “If you’re interested in something other than getting wasted.”