“He’s also fifteen minutes late,” Blake says. “He’s never late.”
“Surprise, surprise,” I mutter. Lots of things seem to be different about Logan nowadays. “He’s probably been slowed by the paparazzi.”
I glance around The Cowherd on the off chance Logan snuck in somehow. A bunch of cowboy hats line the bar, but no one under the age of fifty is in sight.
“Got the ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ crowd back again.” George pulls back his long white hair with hands gnarled from playing too much rock guitar. Other than a few decades playing half-empty honky-tonks, this is the only job he’s ever had. “They’ve had that song on replay for about twenty minutes. I highly suggest you take over the music selection.”
I drop my empty iced tea glass on the counter. “I love that song, though. Okay, George, make me one dirty martini, and I’m good.”
George does a slow turn toward me. Blake and Ginny twist around on their barstools to look at me.
“It’s not like I never drink hard alcohol,” I say to the three sets of raised eyebrows. “I just pick my spots. Trust me, this is a spot for a dirty martini.”
George shrugs and grabs the bottle of gin.
Ginny puts her hand carefully over my shaking one. “Macey, are you all right? You seem so nervous about meeting you know who.”
I don’t know why she’d say that. I’ve only wiped the counter to the point that the damp rag has made the fingers on my left hand all wrinkly like I just got out of a bath.
I manage a weak smile in her direction. George hands me my martini and I quickly down a third of it. My intestines are jumping around so much I may need to make a bathroom run, but just as I force myself to take a deep breath, the bell dings, and the air changes like it always does when Logan walks in.
But something’s completely different this time. This time, he’s taken. And I’m about to meet the woman who took him.
39
I turn around just in time to see her taking Logan’s bike helmet off her head.
I frown. I used to be the only girl he let ride with him on his precious bike.
She steps through the door as Logan holds it open for her.
And crap. She’s beautiful. Naturally blond, tanned, although I swear that’s a tanning bed tan, thin but curvy—her boobs got through the door a good two seconds before she did—and smiley. She looks the exact opposite of me; in fact, she’s the me I would dream of looking like in another reality.
And, of course, she and Logan aren’t alone. A cameraman trails behind them, plus a small crowd of people. Fans, apparently. And I know all of them. Mr. Burger, my sixth grade teacher, actually approaches Gigi in the doorway and asks for her autograph. She obliges with a smile that could easily win over the biggest curmudgeon. She poses so the cameraman can take a few “natural-looking pictures” as he says, “for the Darcy Gazette,” and then he asks for one of her and Logan.
Logan shakes his head, but then Reverend Sands comes through the door and starts practically bowing to Logan and Gigi.
The cameraman manages to snap a photo of Logan smiling politely at the reverend and Gigi beaming at the camera.
“She’s eating this up,” I whisper to Ginny. “The attention.”
“No kidding,” she says. “It’s like the tabloid media have entered our world. And I don’t know about you, but I’m not liking it too much.”
“Because you and Dave have lost the attention?” I ask her.
Ginny scoffs. “We never had attention like this. When did a crowd ever follow me? Let’s face it, Macey. Everybody in Darcy thinks the idea of Dave and me being the couple to free Jane is a total joke.”
“Well, we’ll just have to prove them all wrong then, won’t we?” I say to her. “God, look at how excited everybody is. Gigi’s an instant star.”
Gigi waves the crowd off with a laugh and a shake of that long blond hair, and the mass of people step back.
And that’s when Logan looks over and sees me.
His face flushes like it does when he’s nervous, but he gestures confidently in our direction, and Gigi nods and heads right for me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see George and Dye pretend to be busy with other things, but I know them better than that.
“The famous Austen Macey Henwood! Logan’s told me so much about you,” Gigi says as she reaches me and gives me a kiss on the cheek. Actually, she doesn’t touch my cheek with her lips. It’s an air kiss.
I smile politely. When she heads for my other cheek, I speak out awkwardly. “Oh, I’m a one-cheek girl, Gigi. Sorry.”
