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His night had barely begun and already things were unraveling. First off, Billie looked too damn good. Holy. Hell. It was enough to make him forget about his plans. His need to get her out of his system for good. His need to make her pay.
On what planet should a guy like him be stuck in such close confines with a woman whose hair was so long and silky, he was dying to sink his hands into it? And her sweater, shit. He had to wonder just how in hell it stayed in place, what with her shoulders bare. Paired with slinky jeans that cupped her ass in a way that made his mouth water, she was something else. And then she’d pulled out the big guns by wearing a pair of shiny, black, come-fuck-me heels.
What. The. Hell.
But it was the sadness in her eyes that got to him. She tried to hide it but it was there.
The tense atmosphere in her house and the animosity between Billie and her sister was palpable and Christ, her father couldn’t be the easiest person to deal with either. His mouth tightened when he thought of Trent’s derogatory comments to his daughter. His insinuations.
He glanced over to her and felt something twist inside him. Her hands were balled in her lap, little fists of tension, and her shoulders were rigid. Her long hair covered her face and though he couldn?
?t be sure, was that a sniffle he heard?
When Logan pulled into the parking lot of the Twisted Lemon, he’d already come to the conclusion that there was no way in hell he could go through with his original plan—the one where he bedded and discarded Billie.
He wasn’t that that guy. He could never be that guy.
He put his truck into park, though he didn’t cut the engine. For a moment he said nothing. He stared out into the night, at the shadows cast from his headlights against brick. At the couple walking into the Twisted Lemon holding hands. At the small cat scrounging for food at the edge of the parking lot.
And then he spoke.
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
For a moment there was silence, broken only by Rob Thomas’s mournful lyrics, a sad lament for something lost.
[i]And I don’t know how, to get it back, to good…[i]
“I don’t want to go home,” she said quietly.
Logan glanced over to her and damn if he didn’t feel like he was punched in the gut at the look in her eyes. His physical response to this woman was insane.
“Okay,” he said softly and then he cut the engine.
Chapter Nineteen
The Twisted Lemon was one of those treasures that you find by accident. A few years back, he’d been in the city with his parents and they were to meet friends at another restaurant down the way, but it had been full. By chance they’d ended up a new place that had just opened—The Twisted Lemon.
It was a wonderful eatery with a great location near the water, and more importantly, great ambiance. Located in an old factory that had been renovated into a new life, with a market, bakery and sweets shop, the Twisted Lemon had become an instant hit. The décor was very European, subtle and beautiful, with bold strokes of color on the walls, to compliment the simple tables and rich flooring.
The owner, a small Frenchman by the name of Andrew, greeted him at the door.
“Ah, Logan. It’s been a while. Why you not visiting us these last few months?” his accent was heavy, even though the owner had moved to the US from Canada, nearly two decades ago.
Logan grinned and shook Andrew’s hand. “Sorry, I’ve been busy.”
Andrew nodded and grinned at Billie. “A good busy, my friend.”
Billie blushed, a gentle flush of color he was beginning to adore.
“And you are?” Andrew bowed and took her hand.
“Billie,” she answered.
Andrew kissed her hand in a grand gesture that caused many heads to turn. “Charmed.”
Andrew indicated they follow him and Logan put his hand to Billie’s back as she wove around various tables. It was a possessive move, one a man used on a woman who belonged to him.
And it felt totally right. In fact several men turned as they walked by, their eyes appreciative, and he fought the urge to go all caveman and tell them to back the hell off. She was his.
