I glanced at the clock over the microwave. Must be nice. “Were you sleeping?”
Logan yawned. “No.”
“Sounds like you were sleeping.”
“Well, I’m not now.”
I twirled the phone cord on my finger and leaned against the wall. “Is this your life? You make six figures while sleeping past noon?”
“I didn’t realize I was talking to my mom.”
I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see it. “I’m just jealous.” I could’ve slept in if I wanted, but my head was too full to stay in bed. “It’s Crystal, by the way.”
“Yeah. I know.”
My heart sped up. It was weird talking to him one-on-one like this. “I got your message.”
“Oh. I thought you were just calling for fun.” A smirk was audible in his voice, and I squeezed my eyes closed to erase the mental image of him lying shirtless in bed.
“Nope.” It took me a minute to remember why I called in the first place. “So, Saturday.”
“Yeah.”
I slid down the wall and sat on the floor in the doorway to the kitchen. “Are you serious that I’m invited to meet Norman Marcus?”
“Why do you keep saying that like he’s a god or something?”
“Because he is.”
Logan chuckled. “I didn’t know you were into sixty-year-olds.”
“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me. And he’s a total silver fox.”
“So is my dad. Are you into him, too?”
I laughed. “Depends. Does he own art galleries?”
From the rustle through the speaker, I gathered Logan was shifting on the bed. He grunted. “Not that I know of.”
“How did your dad become friends with Norman Marcus?”
“Just call him Norman.”
“No.”
“It’s weird that you keep saying his full name.”
I kicked my feet up on the opposite side of the doorframe. “Deal with it.”
Logan blew out a breath. “It’s my mom.”
“What?”
“My mom is friends with him, not my dad. She’s an artist.”
My mouth dropped open.Logan’s mom was an artist?How had that never come up before? “What’s her medium?”
“She paints, but it’s over this rough surface, kind of scuffed and destroyed. I don’t know how to describe it.”
