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“You know this guy?” Bella blurted out.
“He’s a regular.” Logan stuffed the dragon under his arm and reached for her hand. He tugged her through the crush of people that had gathered. Shouts of fans and people that wanted to talk to him washed over her. People wouldn’t move. Then, suddenly, Logan stopped in the middle of the park. She crashed into him, pushing him forward a step.
“Geeze, warn a girl.” He didn’t say a word. He didn’t move. She curled her hand around his upper arm and it felt like she’d grabbed onto a slab of rock.
“Hello, Logan. I’ve missed you.”
Bella moved to Logan’s side. A woman stood in front of him. A severe pixie cut in copper and burgundy framed her triangular face. Diamonds winked from her ears and wrist. She looked like she was on her way to Wimbledon with her white flared skirt and Ralph Lauren white polo shirt.
Bella looked to Logan. His jaw was clenched so hard the muscle jumped in his cheek. His hand dropped way from hers. “Who’s this?”
The woman gave her a derisive look and ignored her. “I thought you had outgrown this, Logan. How many women do you need to fuck before we get on with this? It’s getting boring.”
Bella jerked back a step.
“Miss Collen. Over here.”
“Oh, my God. Aimee Collen?”
Bella turned to a girl behind her. Who the hell was Aimee Collen?
Her belly cramped as she stared at Logan, then slid her gaze back to the woman in front of them.
“Are you and Logan back on? How long will it last this time?”
“Did the annulment ever go through? Did you return the ring?”
Bella whipped her head around at each shout from the photographers, but there was too much coming at her. The woman—Aimee—stepped forward and cupped his jaw. Logan jerked his head out of her grasp.
“Oh, stop. I gotta say, I’m not a fan of the beard. Never thought you’d join the little hipster douchebaggery going on with beards. Ruins the lines of your perfect face.” Aimee slid her forefinger along the dent in his chin. She brushed her lips over his cheek and looked straight at Bella. Purple lashes framed watery gray eyes. Aimee lifted one brow and curled her perfectly manicured fingers down Logan’s forearm. Then she turned her full attention on Logan. “I’ll see you tonight. I’m sorry I missed the show yesterday.”
She brushed by Bella in a haze of Chanel. The crowd enveloped Aimee and she smiled hugely, taking pictures, selfies, and signing autographs. The squeals of the teen girls only added to the confusion.
“Logan.”
Logan’s knuckles were white as he clenched his fingers into fists. He looked down at the pavement and wouldn’t meet Bella’s gaze.
The confusion swarming her head like a hive of bees turned to a gut full of dread. Oh, God.
Had she heard the word annulment in the chaos?
Was Logan married? Shouldn’t she know that? Why didn’t she know any of this? Who the hell was Aimee Collen?
She backed up one step, then two. People were staring at them and the furious shutter click of cameras sounded so loud.
And he wouldn’t look at her.
She did the only thing she could, she pushed through the crowd and lifted her chin. She didn’t look left or right, just straight ahead. Somewhere, anywhere. She had to get away from the cameras. Jacob Stack stood in the doorway of the grocery with his arms crossed over his chest, his silver hair ruffling in the light breeze.
He stepped aside and let her through, then barred the door to whomever was following her. At least with Jacob there, she knew nothing could touch her. At least nothing physically.
Twenty-Two
Logan was pretty sure he was having a heart attack. Surely his chest couldn’t be this tight without actually having a valve burst.
He looked down at his feet. The pavement was shifting. He dug his nails into his palms, tightening his fists until bones crunched together. Finally, the spots stopped floating into his vision and sounds sliced into his consciousness like ice picks. He was still outside. Still in the middle of the festival.
He was hugging a freaking dragon.
