by Nicola Marsh
Which made him wonder: had he made a big mistake in blaming his parents’ dysfunctional marriage for his resultant fear of commitment?
Stephen’s infrequent visits and consequential abandonments had ensured that Logan never wanted to disappoint anybody in the same way. He sure as hell didn’t want a woman’s happiness dependent on him, and moving around, being a nomad by choice, ensured he’d never have to fully commit to anyone.
But what if Hope’s happiness wasn’t dependent on him?
She’d never given him any indication she hung on his every word. She hadn’t called or texted him daily, even when they had been fucking. She hadn’t made demands on his time or slyly probed for information about the future, all things he’d tolerated with other women he’d casually dated.
Instead, she’d let him...be.
And he’d fucked it up royally by being an emotionally unavailable prick who was petrified of commitment and all it entailed.
He’d blamed his dad for his hang-ups for so many years—knowing deep down that he might be more like his father with his quest to avoid ties than he cared to admit—that it took him a few moments to realise he didn’t have that piss-poor excuse any more. He knew the truth about Stephen and why he’d done what he’d done.
His dad had had a valid reason for doing what he’d done.
Did Logan?
He feared commitment because it fostered dependence, disappointment and ultimately resentment. He moved around because of it and he never let any woman get too close.
While Stephen had done it out of some warped sense of duty, Logan avoided entanglements because of...fear.
And he was through letting it rule his life.
Which left Logan with two options: carry on with his plan not to be tied down, to keep moving, to not have anyone depend on him ever; or to take a chance.
Entering a committed relationship would be the hardest thing he’d ever done. More terrifying than taking out a loan to launch his business all those years ago. More gut-wrenching than losing his family, if it went pear-shaped.
But he’d always been a risk-taker. And, now that he had more insight into his dysfunctional past, he wouldn’t allow it to taint his future.
He wouldn’t make the same mistake his father had, leaving behind a person he cared about.
He’d give Hope the opportunity he never had.
Before he could second-guess his decision, he tapped on Hope’s number and held the phone up to his ear. His gut churned as he waited for her to pick up, the ringing tone harsh and taunting. After five rings, his call went through to voice mail.
‘Hi, can’t take your call right now. Leave your details and I’ll get back to you.’
Hearing her posh English accent made his insides clench with longing and he cleared his throat.
‘Hey, Hope, it’s me, the rude prick that blew you off. Anyway, I thought you might like to hear this.’ He held the phone away from his ear and directed it towards the nearest speaker for a few moments, before pressing it to his ear again. ‘You’re amazing, you know that, right? Congrats on releasing your first song. I’m in Sydney quoting a job and this pub can’t get enough of you. Anyway, I’ll be back in Melbourne later tonight and was hoping you’d see me tomorrow. Call me, okay?’
He hung up before he could sound any more desperate and cursed under his breath. He’d rambled, almost gushed. Dickhead. He should’ve hung up and called back later, waiting until she picked up. Then again, considering how he’d ended things between them, she might never pick up. He didn’t blame her for screening his calls.
Now all he could do was wait.
Though, if she didn’t return his call by tomorrow, he had a sneaking suspicion he’d be paying a visit to Hope and Harmony.
He wouldn’t quit.
What he had to ask her was too important.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
AFTER PLAYING BACK Logan’s message for the eighth time, Hope admitted it.
She’d let him back in a little.
Hearing the deep timbre of his voice made her tingle and she replayed it several times just to get that buzz before actually listening to his words.
He thought her song was great.
He wanted to see her.
She should be ecstatic. And a small part of her was. So ecstatic, in fact, that after hearing the message for the tenth time she sat down and a song poured out of her. Which pretty much confirmed what she already knew: he made her happy and when she was happy she composed much better.
Her muse was such a fickle bitch.
She wrote three more songs before she called him back. He answered on the second ring. Eager. She liked that.
‘Hey, thanks for calling me back.’
‘No problem,’ she said, managing to sound cool and aloof while she clenched her thighs together at the sound of his voice. ‘So you’re in Sydney?’
‘Yeah, finished up a quote today. I’m at the airport now.’
Hope bit back her first impulse to blurt an invitation to come see her when he landed. She couldn’t sound desperate, not when she wanted to do this right.
But what was right? If she invited him to her place, they’d end up in bed before they had a chance to talk. And she couldn’t go to him, not after the last time at his house. He wouldn’t appreciate it if she booked them into a fancy hotel. Unless...
‘How about we catch up when you get back?’
‘Tonight?’
He sounded surprised. Not as surprised as he’d be when he saw what she had in mind. She intended to keep their reunion simple, no frills, appealing to the heart of the man who’d captured hers without trying.
‘Yeah. I’ll text you the details of where to meet me. It’s not far from the airport.’
He hesitated before responding. ‘Okay, sounds good.’
She exhaled in relief. She intended to do this right and not screw up like last time.
‘And, Hope?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m looking forward to seeing you.’
He hung up before she could respond, leaving her breathless with anticipation.
She’d been mulling over her plan since the previous evening and his call today had confirmed she was right in following through. Logan mistakenly thought she was shallow and hung up on wealth because she’d let him believe it at his place. So she intended to prove the opposite before divulging the truth, all of it.
She knew a simple roadside motel in Mickleham, which would be perfect for what she had in mind. A date. No frills. Just the two of them, confronting this thing between them and articulating all that they’d left unsaid.
She fired off the details to him, surprised when he didn’t respond with more than a thumbs-up emoji. He had to be curious. Or maybe he’d taken one look at the motel’s name and address and thought all she wanted was a quick fuck. When actually she wanted so much more this time.
She wanted time.
Time for her to learn to trust.
Time to explore this connection between them.
Time to develop resilience against her fear of betrayal.
The next three hours dragged. Anticipation fizzed in her blood, making her light-headed as she cleaned her apartment, showered, chose a simple outfit and headed for the motel. She made a quick stop on the way to pick up their supper. She fully intended to make Logan see that she wasn’t so different from him despite what he thought.
She’d booked a suite at the motel because the pictures on the website showed it had a dining table and sofa, items conducive to talking. Booking a room with just a bed would give him the wrong idea. Not that she didn’t want him but that could come later. Talk first.
As she checked in, she heard the roar of a descending plane at nearby Tullamarine. It drowned out her doubts momentarily, until she realised Logan’s plane would’ve already l
anded and he would be on his way here.
She hoped to God she was doing the right thing.
The suite didn’t disappoint. Clean, plain, with a simplicity that she craved. The faintest aroma of vanilla hung in the air, courtesy of a dispenser plugged into an outlet. Her gaze fell on the bed, covered in a daffodil-yellow spread, the one bright spot in the room. She had high hopes for that bed.
Slipping off her flip-flops, she closed the door and laid the food parcel in her arms on the dining table. The smell of fish and chips soon overpowered the cloying vanilla and her mouth watered. She hoped Logan was hungry. For more than food.
A knock sounded at the door and she jumped, the butterfly farm in her stomach taking flight. Shaking out her arms did little for the sudden buzz zapping through her body so she dragged in a deep breath, let it out and opened the door. And promptly sagged against it, that damn buzz making her knees weak.
An unshaven Logan wearing a plain white T-shirt and denim, with a wild look in his eyes, overloaded every damn thing she’d planned to say when she first saw him.
Instead, she grabbed at his T-shirt, hauled him inside and slammed the door. Then he was on her, his mouth seeking hers, his hands grabbing her butt, hoisting her up so he could carry her to the bed. She clawed at him, desperate for skin, losing her mind a little when he nibbled his way down her neck to the hollow between her collarbones. Her pelvis arched of its own volition as his mouth trailed lower and, when he captured a taut nipple between his teeth, she almost came.
‘So responsive,’ he murmured, untying the knots of her cotton dress at her shoulders and sitting up long enough to tug the whole thing off her body. ‘So beautiful.’
He lowered his head again and this time he zeroed in on where she wanted him most. Her thighs fell open as he settled between them, the intensity in his gaze making her heart jackhammer.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he said, a second before his tongue swiped her. She whimpered and he did it again and again and again, long, slow sweeps that had her writhing, panting and clutching at his head. He lapped at her clit like he couldn’t get enough and, when he changed the pressure from soft to hard, she came apart, bucking her hips like a wild thing. It was her fastest orgasm on record and she didn’t care. This reunion wasn’t about slow and steady. She craved him with every cell in her body and she wanted him now.
Thankfully, he didn’t give her time to recover. She didn’t want it. She wanted more; everything he had to give. He stood, whipped off his T-shirt, unzipped his jeans and pushed them down to the floor along with his jocks. His cock sprang out, thick and long, and she licked her lips in anticipation.
She throbbed with wanting him and as he rolled on a condom she couldn’t wait any longer. She surged up to meet him but to her surprise he steadied her and slowly lowered her to the bed.
‘I want to take my time savouring this,’ he said as they lay face to face. She couldn’t read the expression in his eyes, or maybe she didn’t want to. She’d never seen him like this, laid bare, his emotions simmering beneath the surface.
‘I want this to be special.’ He hooked her knee over his thigh and slid into her, inch by exquisite inch. ‘I want you.’
He wasn’t just talking about the sex and they both knew it. But with him filling her, and her body clamouring after another release, she didn’t want to analyse or speculate. He’d said, ‘I’ve missed you,’ which in the throes she’d assumed meant he’d missed the sex.
But his gaze told her differently and as he started to move, slowly at first, sliding in and out with the single-mindedness of a man hell-bent on pleasure, Hope knew something had shifted between them. Something momentous. Something that could give her the future she wanted no matter how much it terrified her.
His eyes never left hers as he started to thrust harder, the delicious friction making her heart pound. He grasped her hip with one hand, the other cupping her cheek, the heat generating from their sweat-slicked bodies making her face burn.
His mouth tightened as his eyes widened and she knew he was close. With a saucy move, she slid her upper leg tighter over him, changing the angle of their pelvises, and he groaned, driving into her like a man possessed.
When she strained forward to kiss him he slid his thumb over her lips and held her face in place so he could see her when he came. With two more thrusts he stiffened, his face contorting with pleasure, his groan so deep it reached down into her soul and tugged something free.
He knew it too, because he’d seen it in her eyes, seen every damned thing she was feeling.
But instead of running like he had every other time, instead of closing off like she still half-expected him to, he brushed a tender kiss across her lips before wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight.
In that moment, Hope knew she’d made the right decision in taking another chance on this guy.
He could be her future.
Time to let it happen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
‘YOU SURE KNOW the way to a guy’s heart.’ Logan swiped a chip through a puddle of ketchup in the middle of their newspaper feast. ‘Who knew fish and chips could be just as delicious lukewarm?’
‘I prefer them hot.’ Hope wrinkled her nose as she popped a piece of fish into her mouth. ‘You haven’t had real fish and chips until you’ve tried the ones from our local village where I grew up.’
She rubbed her stomach and made appreciative moaning noises that had him hard in an instant. ‘Just the right amount of salt and vinegar, and piping hot. So good.’
‘I’d rather have lukewarm if it means I can have you first.’
A blush stained her cheeks as she flashed him a coy smile. ‘I think I could get used to that too.’
A shadow passed over her face and her smile faded. ‘I’m glad you contacted me.’ She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. ‘I think it’s a good idea we talk.’
Just like that, his appetite vanished. Crazy, considering that was exactly why he’d called, but now that the time had come he found the words lodged in his throat like a fishbone.
‘Yeah, we need to talk.’ He gestured at the newspaper between them. ‘Finished?’
She nodded so he balled up the remains of their supper and stuffed it into the bin. Pulling back the tabs on their sodas, he passed her one and downed half of his. It did little to ease the tightness in his throat.
‘I saw my dad,’ he blurted, not surprised when her eyebrows shot up. ‘I went to one of his shows, then caught up afterwards.’
‘How did it go?’
‘Awkward. Tense.’ He shrugged, the memory of his father’s eagerness and his own recalcitrance making him want to wince. It had been painful but cathartic and, if it enabled him to move forward with Hope, it had been a good thing. ‘But it was something I needed to do in order to confront my past and move on.’
‘Good for you.’ She nodded, tenderness softening her features. ‘It can’t have been easy.’ She gave a short, sharp laugh. ‘I moved halfway around the world to get away from my parents.’
He wanted to ask about her background, about her desire to leave her family behind, but if he lost momentum now he’d never say what had to be said.
‘Facing up to my dad made me realise a few things.’
‘Like?’
Curious, her head tilted to one side as she studied him, causing a lock of hair to tumble over her face. His fingers itched to reach out and tuck it behind her ear, but if he touched her now his brain would fry as it usually did whenever he touched her, and he had to focus.
‘That he wasn’t the selfish asshole I pegged him for. That he had reasons for leaving.’ He huffed out a breath. ‘That while we’re probably more alike than I care to admit I’m not going to make the same mistakes he did.’
She didn’t speak, giving him time to continue, and he started to sweat. It broke out along his forehead and his p
alms grew damp. Fuck. Why was this so hard?
‘I want you to come with me.’ The words tumbled out on a growl and he cleared his throat. ‘I latched onto the way you reacted to my simple place as an excuse to drive you away. But in reality I ended things between us because I didn’t want you waiting around for me, your happiness dependent on me, like I thought my mum’s was dependent on Dad. But I see things differently now.’
He scooted his chair closer to hers and reached for her hand as she stared at him in open-mouthed shock. ‘I want you, Hope. You’re incredible and I’d be a fool to walk away from you for fear I’ll end up in a messy relationship like my folks. But my job’s on the road and I want you with me.’
He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss on the back of it. ‘What do you say? Care to take a risk on a wanderer?’
She stared at him in wide-eyed wonder so he saw the exact moment his dream died, the expectation and excitement in her eyes replaced by sadness and regret.
He released her hand and when she lifted it to touch his cheek he reared back.
‘I’m sorry, Logan, I can’t—’
He didn’t wait around to hear the rest.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
HOPE WOULDN’T LET him walk away. Not this time.
She flung open the door and almost ran into his back. ‘Please come back inside so we can talk.’
‘Nothing to say.’ His gravelly voice hinted at a world of pain. Pain she’d caused. ‘I’m calling a cab.’
