When I get inside, I whip the door closed and toss my purse on the floor, sending its contents careening across the tile into the kitchen—including the small black box from Logan.
My arms drop to my sides.Shit.I didn’t even open his gift yet. I was so excited about Dad’s letter I forgot about the present.
I remove my heels where I stand, then slump onto the floor next to the gift, my back slouching against the kitchen cupboards as I pick the box up off the floor.
The bow unravels when I tug on the loose ribbon, and I gingerly pry the rectangular lid off; it tumbles from my fingers, hitting the floor with a hollow thunk. The air is sucked from my lungs all at once. I stare for a long while, unable to move.
With careful hands, I remove the stack of tarot cards from the box.
I flip through them one at a time; each has been painted with a piece of Dad’s artwork that’s fitting to the card. Every single card—all seventy-eight—hand-painted by Logan, richly detailed with bold colors and meticulous brushstrokes. I’m speechless.
This must have taken him months. How did he even get all the artwork? He must have gone through hundreds of pages offlash in my dad’s old catalogs. Some of these we only saw for the first time the other day!
This is unbelievable.
Confusing feelings or not, the only person I want to see right now is him.
My phone sits a couple feet away, where it landed after throwing my purse. I crawl over to it and check the time. It’s past eight, which means he should be off work by now. I tap out a text message.
Wanna come over for ice cream?
Logan
Always.
I stare at the screen. She reached out.Thank fuck.
When I arrive at her house, I find her in the kitchen and do a double take.Damn.I’m not used to seeing her all dolled up and wasn’t prepared for the wicked vision of her in that dress, with her bare back on display. She’s a smokeshow. Kelly’s too busy taking out her aggression on some Oreos with a meat tenderizing mallet to notice me staring. One after another, she pulverizes the cookies between two layers of paper towel.
Something must have gone down at Jason’s place. Pity.
Thoughts and prayers, asshole.
“Wow, look at you,” I comment.
Kelly spins around when she hears my voice. Her makeup is a little smudged; it has me imagining all the ways I could smear it more. This woman is a fucking bombshell. Her head tips to the side with a wistful smile. “Logan, those tarot cards . . .”
She trudges over to me and wraps her arms around my middle and holds me in a hug. I rest my hands on her lower back, brushing my knuckles over the exposed skin; she’s softer than silk.
“Only you know how much that means to me,” she says, her voice muffled into my shirt. “Thank you.” I don’t remember the last time anyone has held me like this before. The scent of fresh oranges in her hair is intoxicating.
“I’m glad you liked them.”
“I love them.” She withdraws from my arms.
My eyes catch on the open bottle of wine on the countertop behind her. I was too distracted by her figure to see it earlier, but there’s not a glass to be found. I nod to the cabernet and scattered cookie crumbs. “Wanna talk about all that?”
“Ugh!” she grunts, spinning around and walking back toward the scene of the crime. “Not really.” She wraps her plump lips around the rim of the wine bottle and takes a pull, then hands it to me. I take a sip of the half-full bottle.
“I’m not even that upset we broke up!” She raises the mallet. “Isn’t that fucked?” She slams it back down, obliterating the cookies. They never stood a fucking chance.
Kelly broke up with him.I’ve had plenty of practice hiding my emotions over the years, and right now, it’s paying off. Hell, I’m out performing half of Hollywood right now.
Stepping forward and brushing up against her back, I delicately pry the weapon from her clenched fingers. “How about I handle this and you grab us some bowls?”
“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “Yeah, okay.”
She goes up on her tiptoes, and the delicious shape of her ass is put on display as she reaches for the ceramic dishes in the overhead cabinet.Not tonight.
