Inevitable (13 page)

Julia didn’t miss the exchange and it was obvious she came to the same conclusion I did. Narrowing her eyes as Logan strolled back over to us, his hands tucked in his trouser pockets, she crossed her arms over her chest.

“What’s that?’ she seethed, gesturing her head to the small paper he was folding in his hands.

He only twisted his lips up into a lopsided grin and tucked it in his jean pocket.

“I swear to God, Logan! If that’s her phone number!” she hissed. I agreed and felt my blood begin to boil as well. Not because he would probably be calling the number, but because it was extremely unprofessional of Jessica. Logan was the new meat in town and damn, these women were flocking to him like flies.

“We’ll discuss it later,” Logan said, his eyes flickering down to Oliver with a hint of irritation.

“Mrs. Clarke?” An older woman with peppered-grey hair approached, a young boy beside her.

“Yes, that’s me but it’s Miss,” I replied smiling. “Come on in.”

“We’ll let you get back to your students,” Julia said, taking Oliver’s hand. “See you around.”

“Bye!” Oliver said, walking away.

“Good-bye and Julia,” she looked back over her shoulder and I continued, “I expect to finish our conversation next time.”

Julia shot me an exaggerated frown shifting her eyes over to Logan, but followed it with a soft nod and subtle smile.

“Conversation?” Logan’s eyebrows rose, intrigued.

“Calm your ego. It has nothing to do with you.” I smirked as I turned away and entered my class to meet my last student.

The first day of school went off without a single issue. The children warmed up to me by lunch and proved to be everything I’d hoped for. One of my favorite perks about teaching kindergarten was having Tuesdays and Thursdays off. It was a luxury and gave me more free time to plan my lessons and work on clearing out the remainder of boxes from my grandparents’ attic that still needed to be sorted.

Logan was still a no-show for my morning jogs, which I didn’t mind. It made them easier and more relaxing. I still couldn’t help staring at his gate as I passed wondering if he was in there watching me. The thought caused a swarm of heat to pool in my stomach. I shook it off, popping in my earbuds, singing along as I took off running.

Friday after school I straightened the stack of graded papers on my desk, wiped down the chalkboard, and pushed in any stray chairs. As the clock struck four, a half hour after the kids had left the building, I grabbed my tote and walked out of my classroom.

As I passed the office, I heard someone call out, “Cassandra.”

I stopped, craning my neck toward the secretary, Mrs. Wilde. She was sitting at her desk inside the opened office door, her hand holding out the phone. “I’m glad I caught you. You have a call.”

A phone call? I tensed, staring at the older women with a heavy feeling of dread settling in. An angry parent maybe? Replaying the past few days, I couldn’t come up with anything I might have done to upset anyone. Stepping into the office with heavy limbs, she handed me the phone receiver.

“Hello, this is Miss Clarke,” I said nervously.

“Cassandra.”

“Logan?” My nerves washed away and I was left feeling relieved but confused. And then it hit me. Did something happen to my house?

“I went into the city for a meeting this morning and have been sitting in gridlock traffic for over two hours,” he explained, irritation in his tone.

“All right and I need to know this why?” I scrunched my brows. Mrs. Wilde leaned in closer to eavesdrop. I turned around walking as far as the cord would allow on the ancient device.

“I’m unable to pick Oliver up and Julia’s not answering her phone. I was hoping you could help me out by taking him with you until I get back.”’

I stilled my posture. He wanted me to take Oliver and watch him? I honestly didn’t mind but I was taken aback he was asking me. I barely knew the man.

“Don’t you have a nanny?” I asked.

“No, I don’t trust strangers with my son.”

“Well Logan, you might have failed to notice but I am technically a stranger.” I chuckled once.

“Logan? Is that Logan West by any chance?” a voice asked from behind me. I turned to see Jessica walking in with Oliver at her side.

With a smile directed at Oliver, I tightened the received to my ear. God forbid Logan say something lurid and be heard by his son.

“Cassandra, please. I have no one else to ask.” His voice was warm and soft, catching me off guard and leaving me no other choice but to agree.

I nodded and her face lit up.

“Go have a seat in the hall chair, Oliver. I need to talk to your father a moment.”

Jessica held out her hand for the phone, which I instantly handed over greeting Oliver with a smile and small wave as he walked out.

“Logan! Hi, is everything all right?” Jessica asked enthusiastically through the phone. “Oh, that’s terrible. I hate traffic. People need to learn to drive.” Her face went through about a dozen reactions as she listened before finally giggling.

I rolled my eyes, taking a deep annoyed breath stepping to the door, and poking my head outside. Oliver was sitting in the short row of yellow plastic chairs, his small feet dangling down kicking the air.

“Why don’t I take Oliver back to my place? My son is with the babysitter there and would love to play with him. I could make us a nice dinner for when you get back,” Jessica said, a giant grin plastered on her freckled face. But whatever Logan’s reply was caused her expression to slowly drop away. “Uh-huh. Oh, all right.” Her head whipped around staring at me with narrowed eyes.

What the hell did I do? What could he possibly be saying to her?

Jessica nodded her head at his words. “Yes, not a problem, Mr. West. Good-bye.”

I looked over at her, surprised at her tone and the sudden use of Mr. West instead of Logan. Whatever he said to her, she was now talking like an actual teacher and not some enamored schoolgirl.

She held the phone to me, her face flushed. As soon as I took it, she walked out and I heard her tell Oliver to have a great weekend.

“Yeah?” I asked, confused.

“Cassandra, please, don’t make me beg. I really need your help. Tell me you’ll watch Oliver.”

“Quick question first, why not let him go to Jessica’s house? She is his teacher after all; you should trust her more than me. Not that I’m untrustworthy, but she seemed overly eager to make dinner for you. I’m sure you’d have a wonderful time.” I grinned imagining his expression at my taunting words.

“I have no interest in having dinner with my son’s teacher. And Oliver likes you as does Julia and most of this town. That says a lot. And about that meal,” his voice grew huskier, “if you’d like to prepare dinner for us, I’d be delighted to have a taste.”

I rolled my eyes, but a smile pulled at my lips despite myself. “I’ll watch Oliver but there will be no meal, at least not for you.”

“That’s a shame; those muffins you made were delicious. I’ve been looking forward to the next treat you have planned for me.” His voice grew smoother, deeper. I could picture that annoying, seductive smirk of his.

“Good-bye, Logan.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be there soon and Cassandra, thank you.” I heard him hang up as soon as the words left his mouth.

My stomach flipped. His words were sincere, genuine, and I couldn’t help smiling as I placed the phone back on the receiver.

“All right Oliver, looks like you’re coming over to my house for a while.” I stepped into the hall and Oliver stood up, worry marring his brow.

“Is my daddy okay?”

“Yes, of course. He’s just stuck in traffic. What do you say we go back to my house and find a game to play?”

Oliver nodded, taking my hand, and following me out of the building.

By the time we arrived at my house Oliver had convinced me he wanted to make blueberry muffins. Dropping his book bag on my couch, we went straight to the kitchen. I smiled as he pushed a chair across the floor to the sink and climbed up to wash his hands. I did the same, and then began handing him the ingredients from the cupboards.

Oliver dumped everything into a bowl after I measured it out and with a giant grin, he began mixing. Flour covered his hands as well as some blueberry juice. With Oliver’s help, the batter was mixed and poured into muffin tins ready for baking less than thirty minutes later. Pushing two pans inside the oven, I turned around assessing the room.

Flour was scattered around the countertop and floor. Oliver followed my gaze laughing.

“It’s a mess in here,” he said, grinning as he grabbed a handful of blueberries left in a bowl.

“You’re pretty messy as well.”

Flour had somehow been wiped across his brow and through his curly hair.

“I’ll help you clean,” he said, jumping down from the chair, blueberries still in his hand. As soon as his feet hit the floor, a blueberry hit the back of my arm.

“Hey!” I yelled turning to face him, my hands crossed over my chest. “Are you trying to start a food fight in my kitchen, Oliver?” My voice stern.

He stilled, eyes growing wide with nerves. “Um—”

“Because I’ll win!” I reached for a handful of blueberries and raced toward him.

He took off running, grabbing the entire bowl, and sneaking around the side of the kitchen table.

I ducked as he threw one after another missing more times than not. I managed to get a few good shots in which caused him to burst into a fit of giggles.

As I pounced to the side of the table, Oliver raced around me and grabbed the bag of remaining flour from the counter.

I held up my hand. “Don’t do anything you might regret now.” I giggled.

“Daddy says you should never have regrets.” With those words, he flung the bag in his hands up and down. Flour rained over me so I dove under the table to hide.

With a heavy laugh, adrenaline seeped from my body. It’d been too long since I’d had so much fun and I had never had a food fight before, especially not in my grandmother’s kitchen.

“It looks like Oliver wins.” My breath caught as the familiar smooth voice filled the cloudy air.

I looked up from under the table to find Logan leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over his chest wearing an amused smirk.

“I always win!” Oliver said as I crawled out, adjusting my rumpled skirt and stained top.

“You always win, huh?” I asked, avoiding eye contact with his father.

“Yeah, Uncle Jax tries but I win every time.”

Uncle Jax? How many West siblings were there?

I laughed, slowly glancing up to Logan. To my surprise, he was staring at his son, smiling.

Logan’s gaze traveled from Oliver, back to me. “So, are there muffins to be eaten or are you wearing them all?”

I looked down, wondering how badly I looked when Oliver spoke. “They’re cooking right now. Can we wait till they’re done?” he asked, with big hopeful eyes.

“Sorry, but I need to get some work done at home and you need a bath,” Logan replied warmly. His tone to his son was something entirely new, soft and gentle.

“I’ll bring them over when they’re done.” I chimed in, looking down at Oliver. “All right?”

Oliver nodded. “All right, but don’t forget.”

I laughed. “I won’t, I promise. Don’t forget your backpack.”

Oliver walked past his father into the living room leaving us alone.

“I forgot to ask over the phone. Does he have any allergies?”

Logan’s eyes held mine, his smile melting away into a serious line. He looked almost confused at my question. His eyes suddenly brightened after a fleeting moment. “No, no allergies.”

His expression grew lighter, amused. My brows scrunched when he leaned in and slid his thumb over my cheek. I stilled, my breath caught, stomach rolling, and wild heat racing through me.

He pulled back and I noticed the blueberry his thumb collected. My cheeks blazed as his eyes locked with mine and his lips parted. Sucking the blueberry from the pad of his thumb, he smiled.

“Delicious.”

My tongue darted out unconsciously wetting my lips. His smile grew, watching me with intent eyes.

“Got it!” Oliver said, appearing beside me.

Swallowing loudly I looked down at the small boy who took a giant whiff of the fresh baked smell seeping from the oven.