Authors: S.C. Ellington
Amelia responded with a warm smile and walked out of the room. Logan came and stood next to me as I continued to admire the view out the window, pulling me in for a quick peck.
“Excuse me for a minute,” Logan said, pulling his phone from his pocket. I couldn’t resist eavesdropping since he was standing right next to me.
“No, about twenty minutes ago…no, I’d rather not…fine, you too.” Logan said into the phone.
“Are you hungry? Amelia can make us lunch,” Logan offered as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Whoever had been on the other end of the line had clearly got under his skin in a matter of minutes.
“I’m fine, I don’t want to bother her. She’s probably busy,” I responded as I turned to look around the rest of the room.
“Well, being that is why I employ her, I doubt it would be an issue.” Just then Amelia walked back into the living room with my lemonade. I accepted the glass graciously. “Thank you, Amelia.”
“You’re very welcome, Ms. Caldwell.” Before I could remind her of my name, she was gone again.
“Let me show you around, and then we can sit outside on the patio.”
“Sure,” I said.
After leading me through his palatial palace, that was complete with four bedroom suites, an office, home gym, and an entertainment room, we made our way up a spiral staircase, and through a double set of doors that led into a bedroom that seriously almost matched the downstairs living areas square footage. There was a large four poster bed in the center of the room, accompanied by a chaise lounge in the corner.
“I’m going to take a stab in the dark and assume this is where you sleep,” I mused.
“Most of the time,” he replied nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.
One entire wall was full of windows, and a sliding glass panel door. Logan opened the door for me, and we stepped outside onto a wraparound walkway that led to a paver patio with outdoor dining furniture.
“The view is beautiful,” I said, as I stepped to the rail of the balcony. It was so peaceful and quiet, that standing out on the balcony, I felt like I was alone on my own little island.
“This is my favorite part of the house,” he said, relaxing back onto one of the patio loungers. “I wasn’t even really in the market for real estate, but a friend of my mother’s put the place on the market when they could no longer afford the renovations.” By the looks of the place, Logan’s parents ran in very different circles from my own.
I looked at the mansion; it really was lovely. I couldn’t tell that any work had been done. Everything looked original to me.
“I loved the architectural detailing of the house, like the walnut crown molding. I also liked that I could add or make changes to the existing layout since I do attempt to be conscious of structural detail and use environmentally friendly materials. The masonry work reminded me of some of the bridges in London, and I liked that quality. But of course, the view was the ultimate selling point—didn’t hurt that my mom loved the place. As soon as escrow closed, she volunteered to handle the decorating, which I gladly handed off,” he said.
“I can see why,” I giggled, not taking my eyes off the expansive display of natural beauty, and taking a sip of my drink. I turned and sat next to Logan on the chair next to his.
“Thank you for bringing me here. It’s certainly a great escape,” I said, still heavily focused on the amazing view.
“You know, I really have to tell you something Logan,” I said, placing my glass on the cocktail table that was in between our loungers.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“You told me that you felt that you have a hard time being in a relationship, but I honestly haven’t seen any of that. So I guess I’m just wondering why you place yourself in a box that you really shouldn’t be in.”
“The answer to that is really simple—it’s you,” he said, flashing me with a coy smile and green eyes.
“From the short time I’ve been around you I've figured out that you’re not an arrogant, gold-digging opportunist who only looks at me as another rung in a ladder to her quest to premier wealth—and that’s what makes you stand out. Hell, you made me work harder than any woman to simply get a first date.”
I laughed at his comment. “You probably have a point there. I think I was just baffled. I couldn’t quite understand why you wanted to get to know me. I’m not a trust fund baby, CEO, or duchess. I definitely don’t have the body of a model. I’m just—”
“You’re just you,” Logan said, cutting me off.
“I guess our difference in income levels made me want to stay away for a while also,” I said, averting my eyes. I focused on branch lodged between two rocks in the distance.
“You’ll do things for me, and I’ll want to reciprocate, but I won’t, because the reality is I can’t afford to. I’ll never be able to surprise you with chartered flights, trips around the globe, or lavish dinners. While our trip to Georgia was amazing, I felt somewhat guilty that you’d done all that for me, and I brought nothing to the table.”
Logan placed his hand over mine, coaxing me to look at him.
“Brooklyn, money has nothing to do with us. There is a gap between our incomes, so what? Money doesn’t define me or make me happy. You do.” Logan let out a low chuckle. “I like your feisty personality. I never met a woman who accepted a dinner invitation just to turn it down in person. You made me work for your time and it was…refreshing,” he said, laughing under his breath. "And the fact that you’re very beautiful is just a mere bonus.” A profuse blush crept through my cheeks.
“And that look right there, kills me every time you grace me with it. You seriously think that I have waited outside a woman’s office with flowers like a little puppy waiting to greet their master? Or actually went into five different floral shops searching out specific flowers that said what I couldn’t? I might add that I have a new friend in the florist on Fourth and Main.”
I let out a low giggle at his admission.
“I’ve never practically invited myself to a woman’s home just to watch a movie with her and be in her presence, and I most certainly never sent my security detail to request the presence of a beautiful woman for dinner. All those things were new feelings and desires for me. For the first time, I wanted to do those things—for you, with you.”
I bent my head down, shyness overtaking me. I could feel my cheeks heating and I was speechless at his statement. I hadn’t expected him to lay his heart on his sleeve in such a manner.
I was interrupted before I could respond to Logan’s words.
“Mr. Colton, you have a visitor,” Amelia said, from the sliding glass window.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“Your father, sir.”
Logan left out a harsh groan. “All right, thank you. Please let him know I’ll be right there.”
“Way to kill the moment,” Logan muttered under his breath, looking back out over the ravine.
Amelia disappeared back into the house, and I turned to Logan. “What’s the matter? You don’t want to see your father?” I asked confused.
“Not particularly,” he muttered.
“Why not?”
“Because he hates me.”
My mouth dropped open at his harsh words. Logan stood from his chair and held his hand out to me.
“Let’s go meet my father,” he said pithily. The dread in his eyes weighed my heart down. Surely, Logan was exaggerating—there was no way a parent could hate their own child, right?
20
“D
ad, what are you doing here?” Logan asked as we entered the great room. The tone of Logan’s voice made me wish that I could immerse myself in between the layers of drywall throughout the room.
“Good evening son. How are things? And who do we have here?” his father said, motioning in my direction.
“This is my girlfriend, Brooklyn,” Logan answered, still gripping my hand.
“Nice to meet you Brooklyn, I’m Logan Colton, Sr.,” he said, extending his hand to me. I let go of Logan’s hand to shake his fathers. I noticed that Logan and his father shared some of the same features. I now saw where he got his shimmering eyes and long, lean frame. Unlike Logan, his father’s hair was a dirty blond and his nose protruded out much more than his son’s.
“Nice to meet you as well.”
“So dad, what brings you by? I know how hard it is for you to get away from the country club.” Logan’s standoffish attitude took me by surprise.
“Well, I thought we could talk shop for a bit, but I know now this probably isn’t the best time,” Logan’s dad said pleasantly.
“Yes, Brooklyn and I actually have plans, so now isn’t the best time,” Logan responded. We had plans? That was news to me.
“All right son, well we can catch up at another time. Why don’t you come by the house tomorrow? Your mother is cooking her famous lamb shank.”
“We’ll see.” Logan’s father hadn’t said one nasty thing to him, yet Logan was being so callous. Logan Sr. shifted uneasily on his feet. Looking at him made me uncomfortable.
“All right. I’ll see you later then.” With that Logan Sr. was out of sight and Logan and I were left alone standing in the great room.
“Um, I don’t want to overstep, but I failed to see why you’d think your father hates you. He seems quite pleasant, if you ask me.”
Logan walked over to the wet bar in the corner of the room, and poured himself a short glass of dark liquid.
“I said he hated me, not that he was a monster,” he pointed out after he took a long sip of his drink. Wasn’t that the same thing?
“Can you please stop saying that? It’s bothering me because I find it hard to believe that outside of perhaps your competitors, your own blood could hate you.”
“Can you please drop it?” Logan snapped. I froze. I was extremely baffled at his reaction, and I most certainly didn’t appreciate the tone he’d taken with me.
“Fine,” I sneered. I turned on my heel and started walking in any direction that took me away from Logan and his pissy attitude.
“Brooklyn, wait. I’m sorry.” I ignored his apology and kept walking. There was no way I was going to turn around and act like the way he’d just addressed me was going to stand.
On my conquest to anywhere that wasn’t near Logan, I stopped and found my camera in my purse. I opened the front door and shut it behind me. I started walking around the front of the house, taking in the grounds. I didn’t know why Logan was so touchy about his father, but I surely planned to find out.
I powered up my camera and started clicking, reviewing shots on the LCD screen as I went. I took a few shots of the detached shed on the side of the house, then made my way to the back side of the massive structure. To my surprise there was an entirely different balcony that overlooked another side of the river. I took a seat on the beige patio furniture under the sun’s shade and began shooting, click after click, of the jacaranda trees, the grassy knoll that was perched atop a ridiculously steep cliff, and the multi-color stonework that provided a backdrop to the foliage that lined the wooden deck.
As the sun began to set in the distance, I left my coveted position on the deck and headed toward the bluff in search of views that would help me capture the essence of the gorgeous property.
I was looking over some of the shots that I’d taken of the sun dancing over the water when Logan interrupted me.
“Hi,” he said from behind me.
“Oh, we’re speaking again? I wasn’t aware of that,” I said, not giving him the courtesy of looking up to acknowledge his presence.
“I’ll take that comment as an indication that you’re still mad,” he said, coming to stand next to me.
“No, I’m not mad. I’m just busy looking over my pictures.” If Logan didn’t know yet, he would shortly, that I could be a certifiably rude person when I wanted.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said, running his hand through his hair. I noticed he seemed to do that when he was struggling with telling me something.
“Great, thanks for the heartfelt fauxpology,” I remarked, turning to walk in another direction.
I heard his footsteps crunching in the grass behind me.
He groaned. “How long are you going to stay upset?”
“Until you start giving some real answers. I don’t think it’s fair that you know about some of my most painful secrets and torturous regrets, meanwhile when I try to understand something as simple as the relationship between you and your father, you snap at me and shut down. Your letter the other day said that you wanted to kiss my scars away—what if all I wanted to do was return the favor?” I asked as I began shooting again.
Logan was quiet as I continued snapping in silence. I figured if I stayed silent long enough he’d start talking. He let out a heavy sigh, then began to speak.
“It all started after my grandparents died,” he explained. Now we were actually getting somewhere. “When my parents came to pick Scott and me up out of CPS, he went to Scott and held him, crying. I, on the other hand, just received a cursory glance. My mother comforted me, but my dad remained distant. To be that young and traumatized, that hurt. As time went on I started noticing that my dad treated Scott and I differently.”
“Everyone grieves in different ways, Logan. Maybe he just didn’t know how to express the sorrow he felt,” I offered. I wasn’t exactly myself after I lost my baby. Honestly, I was still a work in progress.