Chapter 14 Logan
Logan
“How does my hair look?”
Stunning, Gorgeous. Would look even better wrapped around my fist.
Jesus, I need to get my head in the game. But it’s so hard when all I want in my head is her.
“Good,” I clear my throat as quietly as possible. “Looks good.”
Gwen continues to comb her fingers through her long hair, which has a little extra wave to it today, and I have to wonder how it doesn’t fall flat with all the fussing she’s doing to it.
She readjusts the amount of hair over her shoulders again, making me notice the slight tremble in her hands. Reaching out, I take hers in my own, squeezing a couple of times to get her eyes to meet mine.
I could get lost in the intense green of them that remind me of an overgrown forest. Wide and just waiting for me to fall in and happily get lost.
“Gwen, breathe. It’s just my mom.”
She releases a little huff that has the fringe around her face floating in the air. “She’s not just your mom, Logan. She is a smart businesswoman. And she’s trusting me with a major part of our town’s beloved history. I want to make sure I make her proud.”
My muscles soften all over at her sweetness. The pureness of her wanting to make a good impression on my mother.
“Gwendolyn, sweetie. I promise if I didn’t think you could do it, and do it incredibly well at that, I wouldn’t have asked you to take on this task.”
Gwen’s shoulders have inched up to her chin at the surprise of my mother’s voice behind her. She slowly turns on her heels, her eyes wide.
“Mrs. Spencer, it’s good to see you this morning.”
Mom rolls her eyes good-naturedly with a grin. “Oh, please, call me Margot. Mrs. Spencer is off RV’ing the Midwest, bless her heart.”
We follow Mom back to her office without a word exchanged, but I make sure to give Gwen an encouraging smile when I notice her slight hesitation. The one she gives me in return is wobbly, but it’s there, and that’s what matters.
She might be nervous, but she’s doing it.
Mom settles into her plush desk chair, pushing away some paper and closing her computer screen to give her full undivided attention.
I take a quick glance around the room, my heart warming a bit at the corkboard along the wall behind her, which is covered in family photos. Mostly just her and me, I note.
“I see you had a little treat this morning,” Gwen points to the bakery box on the corner of the desk. A swirling logo that showcases the cursive initials of The Willow Whisk with willow tree limbs surrounding it is stamped into the lid.
“I told you I am absolutely in love with those apple crumble tarts.”
I turn to Gwen. “Why don’t I know about those?”
She points at me accusingly. “Because you only have eyes for one sweet treat these days.”
Two, actually, my mind reminds me as my gaze drops down to her pink lips that hold a curve to them currently.
I pat my belly to get my mind back on course. “What can I say? Those cinnamon rolls are insane. I had to add an extra mile to my daily run because I can’t stop getting them.”
“Next time, I’ll make sure you get one of Ophelia’s apple tarts.” Gwen starts rummaging through her large tote bag, presenting her laptop with a bit of flourish.
I feel bad for not being able to get with her over the weekend to sit down and discuss her ideas in greater detail.
That fraudulent feeling sits heavy in my gut even after she assured me it’s fine.
No matter how much she says it’s okay—which was a couple of more times as we walked together to town hall this morning—I still feel like I’m slapping my name on a project she did herself.
Though she did take some of my ideas and incorporated them with hers, it still feels as if I did nothing.
They were simple things I’m sure she would have come up with herself.
But she made sure to make me feel like they were the missing key parts of our pitch.
I wish I could have spent the time one-on-one with Gwen this weekend. Partially so she wasn’t alone on this. But mostly to show Gwen the feelings that are brewing for her are more than just forced proximity or situational because of where I am at in life.
I know I have to prove to her she’s more than a simple trope. She’s the whole story. And reacquainting ourselves as friends was step one.
She opens her laptop, clicking a few times until the PowerPoint presentation I know she worked on for days opens on the screen. She angles it on Mom’s desk so we can all see it while she can still navigate the keys to flip through it.
Mom’s jaw drops open before snapping closed. A twinkle of amusement lingers in her eyes. “You don’t mess around, do you, Gwen?”
“You have no idea. I’ve been thinking about this for years.”
With pursed lips, Mom nods. She points to the screen, then to me before asking, “Did you help with this?”
I know she doesn’t mean it in a bad way necessarily, but it still stings as if she did. I don’t have a chance to say anything as Gwen speaks up.
“Absolutely. I mean, the PowerPoint is my little brainchild. But this was not possible without him. His ideas took my thoughts to a whole new level.”
Mom nods slowly from my periphery. Her eyes are on me, but I don’t know what’s written in them as I stare at Gwen. Her shoulders are pushed back, and her face is full of determination.
“That’s what I like to hear.” She leans on her elbows. “Let’s get to it, then. I can’t wait to see what you two came up with.”
Gwen peeks over at me out of the corner of her eye. I meet her look with an encouraging one. She takes a deep breath, releasing through her mouth quickly before turning back to my mother and the computer with a wide smile.
She clicks on the space bar, sending the screen from the opening slide to our first plan.
“For starters, we don’t want to mess with the silent auction,” she begins. Her voice is strong and unwavering.
“No, I think the town would riot if they couldn’t bid for one of Bernie’s excursions. We get a bulk of our event fundraising just from that donated vacation alone.”
Gwen nods. “Absolutely, and I’ve already talked with him. Confirmed he’s good to go as well.”
I push to the edge of my seat. “I talked to Killian this weekend about some signed gear, and he’s on board, too. That should bring some good donation dollars in.”
Mom shares a smirk with Gwen that makes me think I’m not in on some secret they share. “We might have to go in on a bidding war for that one.”
Gwen laughs. “You’re on, Margot. But I bet we won’t be the only ones gunning for that one.”
I furrow my brows at her. “I don’t think I like the way this conversation is going.”
Mom shoos her hand in my direction with a chuckle. “What other items can we get this year?”
“Kennedy has her backlist of special editions signed and ready to ship down here.”
“Derek Simpson,” name-dropping a well-loved artist in our area, “has agreed to a one-of-a-kind landscape of the willows.”
Mom’s eyes light up at that one. “Scratch the thought of bidding on Killian’s jersey, if that’s the case. I’m ready to go all in on that one.”
I chuckle. “I thought so.”
“We are still working on a few more. If you have any other leads, we can add them to the list.”
“The more the merrier, I say. Let me go through my phone book and get back to you. I think I have a few contacts that might owe me something for sweet-talking your father at one point or another.” She raises her eyebrows at me, and I know exactly what she means.
Mom jots down the idea on a sticky note, placing it on her keyboard so she won’t forget later. “What about Holly’s Vineyard? They usually donate to the event every year.”
I share a knowing look with Gwen. “We will get to that.”
She hums with obvious interest. “This is already sounding great, but I’m more intrigued by the other ideas you have that Logan hinted at.”
Gwen’s cheeks pinked slightly as she clicks to the next screen, though I know it’s not for the one on the screen. No, she’s already anxious about the last two ideas.
“The dunk tank and other classic fair games like a pie-eating contest are always a hit, so I think we should keep those. I mean, we already have the tables and the tank ready to go. The contest would be included in the festival ticket fee, but the dunk tank we could charge a couple of dollars, depending on who it is.”
I jump in as soon as Gwen’s eyes land on mine. Even without a word shared, I immediately know she wants me to continue the pitch.
“Well loved members of the community, like Bernie, of course can be a couple of bucks, but what if we had Dad in on it? Who wouldn’t want to pay five or ten dollars to dunk him?”
Lips tucked to the side, Mom bites back a grin. “I would, for sure. But how do you know your father would agree to it?”
“I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry about that.”
She nods, though her eyes tell me not to get my hopes up.
“And now,” Gwen breathes deeply. “The pitch you’ve been waiting for.”
She clicks the keys to flip to the next screen, where our plan is beautifully laid out. We nixed the kissing booth idea over text this weekend when we realized all the people who would participate would be doing this one as well.
“A date auction with the town’s most eligible bachelors,” I present the title.
“And bachelorettes,” Gwen cheekily adds.
“You asked about Holly’s Vineyard,” I point to the screen in front of us. “I reached out to them this weekend, and they are willing to extend their donation. Instead of just one date basket to auction off, they are going to give us enough to cover each date up for bidding.”
Gwen’s foot bounces with excitement. I know she’s been pouring over these details to make sure they were perfect, and now was the time to lay them out for approval.
She scoots up closer to the desk, clicking to the next screen.
A bullet-point list is laid out for us to follow.
“Each person up for auction gets a chance to strut the stage and give a few facts about themselves. Everyone is over the age of twenty-one since it’ll go hand in hand with the winery donation.
Bidding starts at one hundred dollars. We do this in the evening, before everyone usually disperses for dessert. Maybe set up a movie under the stars–-”
“Nothing horror, though,” I toss in jokingly.
“A general audience approved autumn-themed movie that fits the vibe of the day. The winning bids can take their date for a picnic with a basket full of wine, meats, cheeses, and a pastry courtesy of The Willow Whisk. They can choose to use the movie as a backdrop or find a secluded spot in the square. Then, if all goes well, a few people can continue their date the next night at the masquerade ball.”
Mom taps her finger on her lips as Gwen wraps up her spiel. I wait with bated breath, hoping like hell that she doesn’t shoot her down. I don’t think my heart could take it if my mother rejected Gwen’s excitement.
But I have nothing to worry about as her hand falls and her lips turn up. She clasps her fingers together on her desk and leans forward a little, as if she’s letting us in on a secret. We both instinctively lean up as well, waiting to see what she has to say.
“I think this is a wonderful idea.” Mom claps her hands together. “Dare I say this might be the best lineup we’ve had in years?”
Gwen deflates with a relaxed expression. I know those words eased a lot of the unnecessary worry that was plaguing her. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet. We still need to pull it off.”
“I get it, but I believe in you.” Her eyes catch mine. “Both of you.”
I can’t help but reach over and grab Gwen’s hand that’s resting on the chair arm.
She flips hers over instantly, grabbing onto my fingers for dear life.
I don’t miss the way my mother’s gaze lingers on the contact for a beat too long.
Her perfectly sculpted brows pinch together before she quickly smooths them.
“Alright, you two have a lot of work to finish in the next,” she checks the calendar on her desk, “three weeks. I’ll get you those contacts in the coming days for the auction.”
Gwen puts away her laptop, and we all stand in unison. I can’t help the smile that won’t quit on my face as I look over at the woman beside me beaming with excitement.
“Ready to get to work, partner?”
I nod enthusiastically. “More than you know.”