Chapter Nine
Mia
While I was a celebrity of sorts for owning a large hotel chain, I was no movie star. My hotels had been in a few films though. So, truthfully, I doubted anyone here would recognize me and think to take a picture of me in some compromising way to sell. Taking that in and truly digesting it made me feel better. It wasn’t like Logan was making me eat bull’s balls. It was hanging out on the beach, listening to people play music, drink, and dance.
Something normal people did with their time, and they enjoyed it.
Logan was carrying a beach bag in his hand and set it down in a sandy spot where we’d make our temporary seats.
“I can relax. I can,” I whispered to myself as a little pep talk.
I didn’t know why I was feeling all jittery. Maybe my anger from Donovan, the manager who’d fucked up earlier still lingered, maybe it was the hunger gnawing at my stomach, or maybe it was the man laying out a large beach towel for us to sit on.
This was not a date. He was my life coach, and I was the crazy person he was trying to fix. But it sorta felt like one regardless. He was attractive and had that wholeI don’t care what people thinkconfidence that I could admit was hot. Blond hair, tan skin, muscles, and a set of blue eyes that sparkled paired with his killer smile.
Okay, so I was crushing on my life coach a bit. But this was not a date, and I needed to push those feelings out with the receding waves.
“So, we just sit here and enjoy this, right?” I was curious if there was more to this than what I could see.
Would he make me play the drums? Dance with the sunset falling over the ocean behind me?
The thought didn’t sound that bad. I used to love to dance, but it’d been a long time. My ex-husband Wallace hated to dance. He was the business type that didn’t like to get his Armani suit wrinkled. Sex with the lights off in the same two positions—me on top or him on top, missionary style.
“What are you thinking?” Logan was watching me, ever perceptive of when my thoughts veered in an unpleasant direction.
“My ex.”
I was only going to get better if I was honest. That was why I was doing this whole thing and had paid crap-tons of money to have a life coach tell me what to do—so I could get better. Feel happy and fulfilled again.
Logan sat on the blanket and gestured for me to join him. Once settled and a tumbler of water was handed to me, I started letting my thoughts out. Relieving a bit of the pressure that had been settling inside me.
“My ex-husband, Wallace, would have never set foot out here. He was a commercial lawyer. That’s how we met. I hired him, and we fell in love. Well, I don’t really know if it was true love, but we liked each other enough to get married.”
Thinking about it now made it seem like some business deal we’d made, but we had really liked each other. He was everything I’d thought I wanted. Now, I had no clue what I wanted.
“You said you’re divorced. What happened?” Logan was watching the people dancing in front of us, not giving me his penetrating look, and I was grateful for that.
“He slept with my secretary. Blamed the divorce on me. I know it wasn’t my fault, but I still think maybe, if I’d done more, it wouldn’t have happened.”
So many emotions I’d been fighting with since it happened two years ago were coming out.
“It’s not your fault,” Logan said.
While I heard the words, just like I’d heard them from everyone else, it didn’t make me feel any different.
“Anyway, I was thinking that he didn’t dance and didn’t get his suit wrinkly and only liked to have sex two ways. Kinda boring now that I think about it.” I laughed, but it was not a real happy laugh, more of a trying-to-lighten-the-mood chuckle.
He didn’t laugh though.
“I know we just sat down, but come on. Get up.” Logan stood and stretched his hands above his head. A tan sliver of skin peeked from beneath his shirt, and I found myself staring at it for the few seconds it was available.
His hand then reached out for me to take, so he could help me up, and I placed mine inside his. Those muscles of his arm bunched up, showing more of that tattoo as he pulled me up like I was nothing. Granted, I was a lot smaller than him all around, so it must not have been too hard for the ocean god.
“Okay, I’m up. Now what?”
“We’re gonna dance.”
My eyes darted around to see if people were watching us, and of course, they weren’t. These people wouldn’t give two shits if I dressed up as Big Bird and did the Sprinkler dance. Unlike in a the club scene where curious eyes were always on you if you wiggled a bit. I was a lot less likely to wind up on the tabloids front cover here.
