Heart Strings

by Melanie Moreland

  “Oh my god,” I mumbled. “I’d forgotten how good waffles were.”

  He cut into his, devouring his plate of food. I ate slower, but I did manage to eat almost three-quarters of the large waffle on my plate plus two pieces of bacon. Logan finished off what I couldn’t eat.

  “Are you a bottomless pit?”

  “Most of the time.” He met my gaze, his eyes serious. “I know hunger, Lottie. I never want to experience it again.”

  My heart stuttered at the pained look in his soulful eyes. I covered his hand with mine. “I’m sorry.”

  He frowned. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”

  “I’m not,” I insisted. “I feel empathy.” I looked down at the table, tracing the scarred wood with one finger. “I know a hunger of a different kind. It’s called loneliness.”

  He flipped his hand over, squeezing mine. “I know.”

  I met his eyes. “You do?”

  “I saw it in your eyes the first time I played for you.”

  For a moment, our gazes locked, sharing a quiet, intimate moment of pain. Warm, understanding whiskey stared into my troubled blue. I was certain Logan looked right through me into my soul, seeing all the pain and worry, the abandonment and fear I had experienced. And somehow, with that gentle look, eased a small part of it away.

  I blinked, and the moment was gone. The noise of the diner surrounded me again, but the warmth of Logan’s hand never left mine.

  He hunched over the table. “We have a lot to learn about each other, Lottie. Today is just the start. How about we make it a rule that today—this gloriously sunny, snowy day we have together—is only about now. Only today. It’ll be the day we look back on years from now as our start. I want it to be a good one.”

  I tried not to gape at his words. He seemed so certain. As if our future together was a guarantee. I felt as if I should say something, remind him that the future was never secure. It could change in a heartbeat. Except, somehow, I knew he would simply smile and tell me that was what had already happened.

  So instead, I agreed. “Okay.”

  We walked for hours, talking about nothing and everything. I discovered he was my age and his birthday was a month after mine. Logan informed me today was favorite day, so we shared all our favorites. Colors. Ice cream. Movies. Songs. He peppered me with questions, and I volleyed right back. We stopped in a park and got hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and whipped cream, because Logan insisted that was the only way to drink it.

  We sat on a bench, sipping the warm treat, watching people, enjoying the cold and each other’s company.

  “What is your favorite day?” he asked, looking sideways as he sipped his hot chocolate.

  Without thinking, I replied, “Today.”

  He turned on the bench and kissed me. He tasted like chocolate, snow, happiness, and Logan. He commanded my mouth effortlessly, his tongue sliding along mine in sensuous passes, his lips firm. He cupped my cheek with his large hand, his fingers stroking and warming my cheek as he caressed me. He broke away, his breathing fast. “Good answer.”

  “Good kiss.”

  He nudged the end of my nose. “Lots more of those for you if you want them, Lottie.”

  Then he pressed his forehead to mine. “Now, today aside, what is your favorite kind of day? Tell me what you would do if you woke up and had an entire day of nothing planned.”

  “Make a pot of coffee, curl up in my chair, and read until I didn’t want to read anymore. Have a long, leisurely bath and read some more. Order noodles and dumplings and eat them with my fingers. Have a nap. Watch the snow. Keep my mind empty. No work, no clients, nothing but the music I would have playing, the scent of the candles I would burn, and my comfiest pj’s and fuzzy socks on my feet. Bake something.”

  “You like to bake?”

  “I love baking. It’s my favorite thing to do. Always has been.” I felt shy as I continued. “I wanted to be a pastry chef when I grew up.”

  He frowned but didn’t react to that statement. Instead, he tapped his chin.

  “What if it was the summer?”

  “Hmm. I’m not big on the sun, but a shaded tree beside the water, my book, and lots of iced tea to drink, and I’d be happy.”

  “Would you swim?”

  “Yes, to cool off. Maybe float a bit.”

  “No pj’s, I assume.” He grinned.

  “No, shorts and a tank top I can let dry between my swims.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “What about you?” I asked. “What would your favorite day be?”

  He lifted my hand and kissed the palm. “Being with you and enjoying your day. My head on your lap as you read. Scrubbing your back in the tub. Feeding you the noodles. Holding you in the water. Singing for you. Watching the candlelight flicker on your face. Any of it, as long as it was doing nothing—with you.”

  My breath caught.

  It was too soon for him to say that. It was just too much.

  And yet, I couldn’t stop smiling.

  Chapter 6

  Lottie

  My phone began to ring nonstop around two. I set it to silent, but even Logan felt the constant vibration.

  “Why don’t you answer it?”

  I knew he was right. My father would keep calling until I answered, and the longer I stalled, the worse it would be.

  I stopped and pulled out my phone. “Hello, Charles.”

  Logan raised his eyebrow, and I shrugged. My father liked it professional during business hours.

  My father didn’t bother with a greeting—his voice frosty and curt. “I told you to come in for the meeting. Not only did you not show up, you didn’t have the courtesy to call. All because you had a few cramps? And I’ve been calling for over twenty minutes. You don’t have enough respect to pick up the phone when your boss calls?”

  I turned from Logan, not wanting him to see my embarrassment. I was sure he could hear my father’s words and the tone he was using.

  “I told you this morning I wouldn’t be in. Everything I had for the meeting was on my desk.”

  “Luckily, Steve found it.”

  I rolled my eyes. My file wasn’t hard to find and virtually empty. It was yet another meeting I was made to attend that really didn’t impact me, but my father insisted. “I don’t understand. I took a sick day—the first one in three years—and I still made sure my work was covered. Was there a problem at the meeting?”

  “Not the point,” my father stated. “Why weren’t you answering the phone?”

  “I went for a walk to get some fresh air and pick up a couple of things. I forgot my phone.”

  There was silence for a moment, then he spoke. “I am very disappointed, Charlotte.”

  The words were out before I could stop them. “Well, that’s nothing new when it comes to me, is it, Charles? Feel free to dock my check. Or even better, take the day off my holiday time. I haven’t had many of those since I started with the company either.”

  I hung up.

  I sucked in some much-needed oxygen then met the concerned gaze of Logan.

  “That’s gonna cost me.”

  “Will he fire you?”

  I snorted. “Worse. I’ll get a lecture. Then my mother will make sure to let me know how much I upset my father and, therefore, her. She’ll remind me how good I’ve had it and that I should be more appreciative of all they’ve given me.”

  He observed me in silence. “Your father never asked if you were unwell.”

  “No.”

  “Will your mother?”

  I barked out a humorless laugh. “I hope not since I don’t want to lie to her as well. But probably not.”

  “Given they lost your brother, I would have thought their first concern would be your well-being, not the fact that you’ve taken a day off.”

  My throat became tight, and I could only nod.

  He wrapped an arm around me. “No wonder,” he muttered.

  “No wonder what?” I asked, staring at his chest.
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br />   “No wonder you need me.”

  I lifted my head in shock. “What?”

  He ignored my question. “Do you skate?”

  I blinked and repeated myself. “What?”

  He pointed ahead. “There’s an ice rink. I thought we’d skate a bit, then I’m taking you for noodles and dumplings.”

  “Um—”

  He looked upset. “He isn’t spoiling our day, Lottie. If we stop now, he wins. Don’t let him.”

  He was right. It had been such a great day, and I didn’t want it to end. My dad was making too much of this. The meeting was a general wrap-up of the week, and I had nothing major to contribute. He was simply angry that I wasn’t toeing the Prescott line of perfection.

  “I love to skate, but I haven’t for a long time.”

  He tugged me forward. “I’ll hold you up. Promise.”

  Somehow, I had a feeling he meant that on many different levels.

  I sat down, breathless and exhilarated. I had forgotten how much I loved to skate. Since it was early, the rink wasn’t crowded, and Logan and I had skated for a long time. He chased me at times, twirling me often, then he let me speed skate around, enjoying the feel of the ice under my blades and the cold air on my face. They had the rink decorated with lights, and music was playing, making it inviting and fun.

  Logan stopped in front of me with a flourish, sending shards of ice into the air, then sitting beside me. “You done?”

  I had to laugh. “Out of shape. Sitting behind a desk isn’t good for my stamina.”

  He moved close, waggling his eyebrows. “I get lots of exercise. Plenty of stamina. Maybe I’ll show you if you ask nicely.”

  I tried not to giggle, but he was irresistible. His unique eyes sparkled under the lights, his smile was wide and bright, and he was sexy as hell with his taut frame and teasing.

  He grinned, wrapping an arm around my waist and tugging me close. He bent low and brushed his mouth to mine, and I didn’t try to resist. I didn’t want to. I felt more alive than I had in a long time. His presence, his laughter, the light that seemed to spill from him intoxicated me. Nothing mattered in that moment. My father, my job, nothing. All that mattered was kissing this man. Being close to him.

  I flung my arms around his neck, and he pulled me closer, burying his hands in my hair and slanting his mouth over mine, kissing me harder. Deeper. Our tongues tangled together, our breath mixing, heat replacing the cold air around us. He stroked my scalp gently, his caresses a direct contrast to the possessive edge of his kiss. He groaned low in his chest, pulled his mouth away, dragging his lips over my cheek, and burying his face in my neck.

  “Jesus, you’re addictive.”

  My heart was pounding, my head swimming from his mouth. The barely controlled passion. The desire I felt.

  “Ditto,” I whispered.

  He eased back, slipping his fingers under my chin. He kissed my lips, then my nose, and finally rested his lips on my forehead, lingering and sweet.

  “Thank you for today,” he breathed. “For trusting me.”

  He stood and pulled me to my feet. “A few more turns on the ice. Then dinner.”

  “We’ve done nothing but eat today,” I protested.

  There’d been breakfast in the diner, midmorning coffee, lunch at one of the many trucks parked at the entrance to the park, hot chocolate, and he’d insisted on a snack before we went skating.

  “Stamina.” He winked. “The day isn’t over, Lottie. You gotta keep up.”

  I let him pull me to my feet, and I followed him to the ice. With my hand tucked securely inside his, the flash of lights reflecting on the ice, and the warmth of his gaze, I didn’t want the day to end.

  Ever.

  I licked my fingers. “These are the best dumplings I’ve ever had.”

  He hummed in agreement, slathering hot sauce on his and popping one in his mouth. He ate the way he did everything—with gusto. “Stick with me, kid. I know all the best places.”

  The “best place” we were sitting in was a tiny hole-in-the-wall I would have walked past without a glance. But he had pulled me in, and although I was apprehensive at first, one sip of their jasmine tea and the hot and sour soup that appeared in front of me, and I no longer cared about the paper napkins or the mismatched tables and chairs. The food was delicious, and once again, Logan was well-known.

  “Their son was in one of the classes I taught while his math teacher was off for a month. I could see he was struggling, so I did some one-on-one with him. His grades improved, and they insisted on meeting me. Kai’s mom brought me food, and I was hooked,” he elaborated.

  That explained the hugs when we walked in and the effusive greetings from the kitchen.

  “I’m hooked too,” I agreed. “I love Chinese food.”

  A plate of noodles appeared along with a dish of spicy, crispy chicken. The aroma wafted up, and I groaned. “Oh my god.”

  Logan smirked. “I know. I eat here a lot.”

  I set down my chopsticks and took a sip of the fragrant tea. “Logan…”

  He narrowed his eyes, warning me not to say it.

  “Please. I want to treat you to dinner. You’ve paid all day.”

  “Nope. Today is my day, and I’m showing you my world. But I tell you what—next day we spend together is on you. I want to see your favorite haunts.”

  “And you’ll let me pay?”

  “I won’t reach for my wallet once.”

  “Deal.”

  He lifted a piece of chicken off the platter, holding it over the table. “Now eat, my little Snow Queen.”

  I leaned forward and let him feed me. I closed my eyes at the burst of ginger, garlic, and chili. “So good.”

  He took one for himself. “I know.”

  I chewed in silence, wondering how I was going to top this day. We’d been so many places. Little spots I didn’t know about. Small galleries where we looked at artwork. Parks I didn’t know existed where we’d sat on benches, gazed at unknown statues, made a snowman, drank hot chocolate. We sat in the library, and Logan had quietly read his favorite passages from a book of poems. He showed me beautiful, ornate houses. Diners. Coffee shops. The Koi House where we were eating. Each place he knew intimately and shared with me—all pieces of his life.

  What would I share besides my desk?

  “Hey,” he called, his low voice breaking the fog I was in. “Whatever we do, even if it’s sitting in your place and you knitting, I’m good with it, Lottie. No pressure.”

  “Okay.”

  We ate in sporadic silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Logan fed me bites, insisted we needed more dumplings, and ordered iced lychee nuts and served them to me, dripping and sweet with that unmistakable tang that bit a little as you chewed. His student Kai dropped by the table and chatted to him, telling him about an advanced course he was taking next summer. He eyed me with curiosity and smirked widely as Logan introduced me.

  “My girlfriend. Lottie.”

  Logan arched his eyebrow at me, daring me to contradict him.

  Instead, I greeted Kai warmly and asked more about his studies. He was enthusiastic, filling me in on how bad he had been at math until Mr. Logan sat him down and unraveled the mystery no other teacher had been able to explain.

  “Now, I’m in the advanced class. And I plan on being a teacher too.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  We finished our dinner and headed back into the cold. Logan pulled a beanie out of his pocket and, before I could protest, tugged it over my hair, and then pulled out another one and yanked it over his shaggy hair. We walked a few blocks and I expected him to turn in the direction of my condo, but he veered to the right. I let him lead, secretly thrilled the day wasn’t over.

  We stopped in front of a small bar, and he scratched his head. “I sometimes play here on the weekends.”

  “Oh.”

  “My friend Mitch is playing tonight. He has a set at eight. Feel like listening to a bit of music?”


  “I’d love that.”

  He huffed a long breath, the vapor hanging in the cold air. “Good, because I’m not ready to give you up yet.”

  He opened the door, bent low, and kissed my lips. “After you, my Snow Queen.”

  Chapter 7

  Lottie

  His friend Mitch was an amazing piano player and a crooner. His voice was clear and seductive, and he stroked the keys like a master. The bar was packed, and we were only able to say hello before his next set, but Logan promised him we would be back.

  Snow swirled, the flakes settling on Logan’s head and shoulders. The white flecks were bright on his hair, darkening the strands and glinting under the streetlamps.

  I hugged his arm as we headed toward my condo, thinking about the past hours.

  It had been a perfect day. The long walks, laughing over coffee, sharing plates in diners and cafes he liked to frequent. Learning about him and his life. Listening to his rich voice as he spoke, his hands expressive as they moved through the air, highlighting a statement or making a point. He was like the music he played, fluid and poignant.

  He never ceased moving, even when sitting. His legs would move, his toes tapping out a silent rhythm. His fingers kept a beat to a song only he could hear.

  And he touched me—constantly. Grazed my cheek with his knuckles, or mouth. Stroked my hand as we drank coffee. Entwined our fingers while we strolled, slipping both our hands into his large mitt. Tucked me into his side often. Touched my lips with his whenever he had a chance, leaving me wanting more.

  I had never realized how much I missed physical contact until Logan.

  Or maybe I had been missing him all my life.

  He glanced down at me as we approached my building. “Did you have a good day, Lottie?”

  I squeezed his arm in response. “Yes.”

  “Worth the trouble playing hooky today will cause? The extra work you have to catch up on?”