Unsettled (26 page)

“What’s dad up to?” I asked, trying to move our conversation along.

After she finished filling me in on my dad’s latest quest to rebuild his 1977 Camaro for the umpteenth time in two decades she put my dad on the line.

“Hey dad,” I said. It was good to hear his gruff voice. My dad had some jagged edges, but I loved him all the same. His love for me never wavered.

“Hey Keds, how’s my favorite baby girl doing?”

“Dad, I haven’t fit in a shoebox since I was six months old, and I’m your only baby girl,” I said, smiling into the phone.

“Well, in my eyes you’re still the premature baby I brought home from the hospital.”

My dad still used the moniker because he felt that outgrowing the shoebox showed how much of a fighter I truly was.

“So you’re working on the Camaro, huh?” I asked.

“Never stopped,” he answered, amused. He filled me in on his wayward car restoration efforts. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out why he insisted on keeping the broken down heap.

“Well, when are you coming to visit baby? We miss you. I have to hide your mom’s ATM card every couple months so she doesn’t purchase plane tickets to come visit on the fly.”

“Thanks dad! I’m glad you’re the voice of reason in that area,” I chuckled. “I’m coming to visit for my birthday, that’s only a few months away.”

“Oh okay, good. Let me know the exact dates so I can make my famous cream cheese pie for your birthday cake.” My dad took special pride in his cream cheese pie recipe. Probably because it was the only thing he really was good at cooking or baking. He still knew how to make me feel special.

“How old are you turning again, baby girl? You know my memory isn’t as good as it used to be.”

“I’ll be twenty-five dad, and you aren’t old at all,” I said, switching my cellphone to my other ear.

“Well, that isn’t old at all!” he said. “Although it is old enough to have a love interest.”

“Not you too, dad!” I exclaimed. “Why is everyone on my back about dating?”

“Baby girl, it’s because you’re a bright young woman and at some point you should consider settling down.”

“I will dad, when I meet the right person.”

“Have you met anyone recently?” he asked. I could hear him hammering something in the background.

“I will only answer honestly if you promise not to tell mom,” I said with seriousness. The last thing I needed was my mom badgering me for information.

“I promise Keds,” he reassured me, but I could tell he wanted to laugh at my wanting to keep my news between the two of us—and away from my mom.

“I
have
met someone…still figuring it out. He’s nice though,” I answered honestly.

“Sounds like there is more to that than you’re letting on, but I’m sure you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” he chuckled. “Well, I’m going to head back out to the garage and finish working on my other baby before it gets dark. You know how your mother gets when she can’t park in the garage,” he said, chuckling. My mom’s Mercedes SL was her pride and joy.

“All right dad, I love you—and don’t tell mom! She will have my wedding planned before we have a third date.”

“Love you too, kiddo. My lips are sealed. See you soon.”

After I hung up with my dad I climbed out of bed, looking for something to put on. I walked over to Logan’s closet, in hopes that I would find something to cover my naked body.

“YOU’RE UP EARLY,”
a shirtless Logan said as I strolled into the kitchen. It was only a quarter past nine, but it looked like he’d been up for a while. He had a few papers strewn around his MacBook.

“Yeah, my mom called,” I said, leaning against the sparkly black granite and looking out the large bay windows. I ran my fingers through my hair to hide any lingering traces of bed head.

“What time did you get up, because when she called at the butt crack of dawn you were already gone.”

“Probably around three thirty,” he said casually. I bulged my eyes like a bullfrog. “What realm are you from? Nobody wakes up that early! Especially not on the weekend,” I scoffed.

“I’m pretty sure some people from the human race do,” he said, sliding his eyes up and down my body. “Nice pajamas,” he said. The gaze he gave me burned right through the thin white fabric of his long shirt I was wearing.

“Thanks, some poor sap let me borrow it from his closet,” I retorted.

“Very funny,” he said, standing from the table. “Want some coffee?” he asked as he walked by in low-slung pajama pants. I silently thanked Logan for gracing my eyes with an uninhibited view of his pulsing back muscles. I didn’t get to see him shirtless in the light very often. My eyes scanned over his tattoo and this time I read the word that was clearly inked on his skin: Lost.

“What does “lost” mean?” I asked.

“What?” Logan asked, turning to face me.

“Your tattoo, what does it mean?” I asked again. I wondered if it had something to do with what he’d said last night before we went to bed.

“Just a reminder” he said flatly.

“Of?” I probed.

“Coffee’s getting cold, want some? Yes or no?” he said, turning back toward the coffee pot and avoiding my question. I was burning to ask him about last night’s dream, but it seemed like he would have been mum on that topic also so I decided to stick to our lighter banter. Logan wasn’t exactly volunteering information, so I figured it was best to let that line of questioning die.

“No, I’m fine. I really only need that stuff on the weekdays, you know, when I’m starved for sleep,” I said, bringing the focus back to the topic of java.

“There’s food in the fridge, but I’m not much of a cook. If you want something edible we can order in,” he offered.

“Please don’t remind me! I remember how you maligned those vegetables at my place. Poor things,” I joked. “Don’t worry, one of us is competent in the kitchen. I’ll figure something out.”

I walked into the too-big kitchen, musing at the large stainless steel stove. As I was pulling on the refrigerator door, Logan came behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Can I have my T-shirt back now? It’s hard to think about breakfast when I know you’re probably stark naked under this shirt,” he said, placing his chin on my shoulder. He ran his hand up the back of my thigh, letting out a low growl when he discovered that his assumption was partially right.

“Mmm, well you know if you want to eat sometime today, you shouldn’t try to distract me. Plus, I need to get home and prepare things for tomorrow,” I said. In a matter of hours our weekend would be over.

“I guess you have a point,” he said sullenly. Before releasing me, he not so subtly slid his hand underneath his shirt I was wearing and cupped my bare backside with his hand. “I think I can keep a hold of myself through breakfast, but I can’t make any promises after that,” he said as he took his seat back at the table.

“Hmm, I’ll have to hold you to that. Um…Logan?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you have so much food if you don’t cook? There’s enough stuff here to feed a small army,” I said, looking back at him, waiting for a logical answer. The cold air from the fridge chilled my bare legs, causing me to curl my toes on the oak flooring.

“No reason really. I went to the grocery this morning, in case you wanted to stay past this weekend,” he said nonchalantly. I had trouble picturing Logan strolling through the aisles of Pick ‘n Save. Logan’s response threw me through a loop. I was a little hesitant about the idea of sharing space, but the prospect of being able to wake up to Logan every morning brought a smile to my face. That was something I could get used to.

“There’s no point in the place being empty while I’m gone,” he said.

“Where are you going?” I asked. I attempted to hide the dismay I felt that he was leaving town again.

“I have a few trips scheduled out your way, on the West Coast” he said.

“Oh,” I said belatedly, letting everything he’d just said sink in. I didn’t want to come off as the clingy type, so I attempted to hide the fact that I would miss him while he was gone.

“Well, you’ve worked yourself into my good graces with the stockpile of food,” I said, tossing him a half smile.

Logan lifted his brow. “That was the plan,” he said chuckling under his breath.

“Do you like French toast?” I asked, pulling out the ingredients. I set the carton of eggs on the counter.

“Sounds great. Do you want any help?” he asked.

“Hmm…let me see. You can pour the orange juice,” I said, deadpanning.

I successfully located a bowl and fork and began to beat an egg and milk in the bowl.

“Great way to use my skills, Brooklyn,” Logan retorted.

“Logan, you are very talented, but if I ever grant you the opportunity to serve in the kitchen again, please turn me into the nut house!” I pulled a couple slices of bread from the bag and cut them into triangles. This was the second time I was cooking for Logan, and I was now so thankful that my mom insisted that I spend so much time with her in the kitchen.

“C’mon, I’m not that bad!”

“Sorry, yeah, you are. Sugar?” I asked, looking around the kitchen in search of a canister.

“In the cabinet above the fridge,” he responded.

I looked in the cabinet and pulled out sugar to sprinkle into the batter. Logan let out a low whistle as my shirt rode up my thighs.

“Shut it!” I said playfully, hiding my blush while searching through cabinets for a skillet.

It didn’t take me long to finish with breakfast. Logan set the table while I cooked and did his part by pouring the juice. As I stirred the yellow yolks, I thought back to everything that had happened over the last few weeks.

Since I’d finally given into Logan, things between the two of us seemed to come easily, almost naturally, and I liked that. But on another hand I still felt like Logan and I had so much to learn about one another. I couldn’t help but feel that while Logan was genuine about some things, he was more guarded in other ways. Logan was many things: caring, considerate, and kind, but an open book wasn’t one of them. I didn’t want to rush too fast into things with him. Me staying at his place was not going to happen.

After the eggs were done, we sat down to eat.

“So when do you leave for your trip? How long will you be gone?” I asked, swirling my French toast through the syrup on my plate.

“I’m not entirely sure. I’ll have to check with my secretary, but I think I leave in a few days,” he said, stabbing an egg with his fork.

“Oh…okay…” Reality was starting to set in. Business trips, nights away, the whole nine. Could our fledgling relationship weather all the time that we would be apart? Would he be faithful? My stomach started to knot, and I was no longer hungry. I tried ferociously to push the doubts that were seeping into my mind away, but failed terribly.

“What’s wrong, Brooklyn?” Logan asked, setting his fork down on his plate. I guess I looked the way I felt, like someone had stolen my childhood pet.

“Me? Nothing, I’m fine,” I lied.

“Something’s bothering you. Spill it,” he said. He sat patiently waiting until I finally decided to speak. I didn’t want to sound like the needy girlfriend; those types of women annoyed me to no end.

“I guess you’ve grown on me,” I admitted. I caught myself playing with my food.
Stop acting like a child
, I reminded myself. I’d been single forever. I could deal with business trips.

“Oh, that’s it? Well you could always come with me if you want.”

“Um, newsflash, I have a day job,” I reminded him. “I can’t just up and take time off.”

“Well, what about the weekends? You could take a jet,” he offered, taking a sip of juice.

“No, I’ll be fine. I’m sure Alex will find a way to keep me entertained.”

“Speaking of Alex. Why don’t you ask her to stay with you here, while I’m gone?” he asked.

I didn’t like that Logan already assumed I’d take him up on his offer.

“About that…I appreciate your offer, but I’ll be fine staying at my place.”

“I disagree.” The space between us shifted slightly.

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t like the idea of you enduring another ‘discussion’ between you and Damon. I’d rather you didn’t see him while I’m gone.”

“I can’t lock myself in this castle based on the off chance that I might have another run-in with Damon, Logan. I don’t know if I should feel flattered, or peeved that you don’t think I can handle myself. Either way, you don’t need to worry about it. I’m in no hurry to have a repeat of Friday night anyway.”

“I know that, but things just happen sometimes. I don’t want to argue about this. Just stay here—please.”

“No,” I responded stubbornly. I scooted back from the table and picked up my plate, attempting to end the conversation.

“Seriously? Where are you going?” he asked.

“To clean up.”

“I thought we were having a conversation,” he said. I could tell he was getting annoyed, but I didn’t like being told what to do.

“No, you said you want me to stay, I said no, so that really should be the end of it.”

“Again, I disagree,” he said. The legs of his chair scrapped across the wood floor as he stood.

“Well, I don’t think I can help you there. I am not the type of woman who wants to be kept in a box. I can handle myself. I was doing it well before you came along Logan.”

“I know you can take care of yourself, Brooklyn. That’s not the issue. Look, I know Damon is part of your past, but he comes off like an ass. I don’t want to give him another opportunity to make you cry. Just stay here. It will make me feel better knowing that he’s one less thing I have to worry about when it comes to you,” he said.
What else did he worry about?

I placed my dish in the sink, and started collecting the dirty pans off the stove.

“Fine—I’ll think about it, but I can’t make any promises.”

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