Oh no.
He smiled down at me and said, “Gotcha.”
I heard people clapping, and Mrs. Rorch shouted, “It’s likeAnOfficer and a Gentleman! You know that movie?” Oh, they did.
I said, “Thanks, Logan.”
“You okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” I wasn’t. I still felt dizzy. Too hot. Weak. Flustered. A little sick.
For only a minute, maybe not even that long, I stared up at Logan, and he stared down at me. Everything disappeared in a poof—our breakup, how much I’d missed him, how I was a tired and beat-up person now, alone often, and lonely, and how I spent too much time writing stories about a fourth grader and talking to my cats.
So, eyes locked to Logan’s, wandering about in memories that hurt, I said something very smart, to reflect my new intelligence and maturity, making no move to get out of his arms. “You have strong arms.”
He laughed. “Thanks, Bellini.”
And I had to add one more ridiculous thing. “Have you gotten taller?”
He laughed again, and lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes. He was better-looking now that he was older. “I don’t think so.”
“You seem bigger and wider.”
He blinked at me, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh.
Oh sheesh. “I didn’t mean…you know…”
“I know you didn’t.”
Beck and Colt, who had just arrived, and Jaxi, Helena, and Collins, who’d also come in seconds afterward, circled us, arms in the air, and sang at the top of their lungs, “We are fam-i-ly…”
I smiled, couldn’t help it, and Logan smiled back at me.
“You’re very handsome,” I told him. Why did I do that? What was the point? We were going nowhere. Why flirt?
“And you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Dang. He said it with all sincerity. We were back right where we’d been before. We sizzled together. That same energy between us was back in full force. I sighed a lusty sigh. He held me closer.
Must have been some Christmas razzle-dazzle in that bar.
16
Logan
Logan went back to his group after propping Bellini up onto her feet. He was quite sure that he had not breathed at all once he saw Bellini go pale and then tilt back on top of the bar. He had never run so fast in his life. He’d thought she was going to fall and crack her head open. One minute, he’d been admiring her, marveling at how daring she was to dance on a bar, how full of life and adventure, and how she was willing to do things to make people happy—like Mrs. Rorch—and the next, he was pushing people right and left to catch her before she hit the floor.
Whoosh. She was in his arms. And whoosh, he was filled with emotions that he’d tried so hard to lock away. It was like they were young again. The electricity was there. The passion and lust and…the friendship. Two people perfectly in tune.
Holding Bellini by the bar was the best thing he’d done in, well, years, since she’d broken up with him. He would never understand why she’d broken up with him, but he did understand that he liked holding her and never wanted to let her go.
He had gone back to his employees, who’d congratulated him on his “great catch,” and they’d had dinner and played pool, and some people had danced on the dance floor. The bar was full of Christmas lights and a huge Santa. The Santa, to him, always looked a bit drunk. His employees had received their bonus checks, so they were in a happy mood.
But the bar scene wasn’t his scene at all. He admired what Whiskey had done. She was a businesswoman. She was tough and smart. But he didn’t like bars. He preferred to be outside innature or at home reading or playing chess. He definitely had a strong introvert streak, like Bellini.
At nine, he was going to leave, but then…he decided to do something daring. He would ask Bellini to dinner. She was leaving again once her mom was healthy, so why not? What did he have to lose? Nothing. He’d already lost everything.
All she could do was say no.
