Reckless Longing

by Gina Robinson

  Bre hauled it off. Later in the week, she showed me the sexy witch costume she'd "bought" for Halloween. We both knew where it had come from, but neither of us mentioned it. I wondered if that was how my mom viewed me—in her mind, was I the witch?

  Chapter Twelve

  Monday arrived both too quickly and inexorably slowly. Logan met me outside the SUB, like old times. He wore a beanie and sweatshirt and an adorable smile. He looked so absolutely hot, the sight of him made my heart contract. It felt like old times again as he led me to his car. A wind kicked up and gray clouds were building against the hills to the west. A storm was brewing, which seemed so appropriate.

  "Do you need me to take you shopping?" he asked as we got in.

  "Nope. I have all the supplies in my backpack." I'd even kept the cream cheese for the frosting in the office fridge while I worked.

  "And you got the good stuff? You didn't skimp?"

  "Skimp? For this important mission? No way. Yeah, I got the good stuff."

  "You're still baking for Byron?"

  I was touched he remembered, and even more pleased he sounded like he was feeling out the situation, ready to be jealous if I was baking for a new guy. "And the guys. Yep."

  There are people in this world that you can be away from for months or years and pick right up where you left off when you see them again. People that you don't know well, but feel like one of your best friends. It was that way between Logan and me, only so strong it was frightening. If things were different, he could have been the love of my life. Maybe he was and I was doomed to a solo life, to be an old, lonely spinster. The thought was too depressing. I didn't have any siblings—that knew about me—so I couldn't even end up as someone's old doting auntie.

  It was like Logan and I just fell back in together and were right back where we left off, trying to dampen the electricity and chemistry between us. Trying to keep our hands to ourselves when they were like magnets resisting the pull.

  It was quiet at his apartment. Collin and Zave were out. I wondered if he had asked them to give us space. The apartment hadn't changed much, except for a fishbowl on the console table.

  "You got a pet!" I went over to examine it, bending over to get a good look. "A fighting fish?"

  "They're low maintenance." He stood too close behind me. I could feel his body heat. "I haven't been able to kill it yet. We tried goldfish, but we had terrible luck. Went through half a dozen in less than a week. It was too cruel to continue innocently killing them and all those deaths were depressing the hell out of us. We were holding a fish funeral every day. Zave was afraid we were going to plug the toilet from flushing so many. Collin said he felt embarrassed going back to the pet store for more fish. It was getting so they bagged a poor victim up when they saw him coming.

  "I blame Zave. He overfed them."

  I smiled at the thought of the boys trying to care for a fish so carefully they literally killed it with kindness. "Your betta fish is beautiful. Is it a girl or a boy?"

  "Male. That's all the stores generally sell. Only breeders have females. The males are prettier. They sell better." He grinned.

  "He's really vibrant." I looked up at Logan. "Does that mean he's angry?"

  Logan studied the fish and shook his head. "If he is, he's perpetually angry. He always looks like that."

  "It's good to know my presence hasn't upset him," I said. "Some fish are highly territorial." I wished Logan were.

  I tore my gaze away from Logan, stood, and nodded toward the kitchen. "I'd better get busy before it gets late. These cookie bars require cooling time between baking and frosting."

  Logan followed me, standing right behind me as I set up. "Do I get to watch or will that compromise the security of this top-secret concoction?"

  "You're good. Unless you divulge my baking secrets to absolutely anyone else. Then I'll have to kill you." I turned to get the recipe out of my backpack on the table and ploughed directly into him, startling me, at least. As I braced my hands against his hard chest, he grabbed my arms, stroking them gently, like a lover, and smiled.

  My eyes popped open wide. "Aha! Using diversionary tactics to get my secrets. Trying to rattle me. Very smart. But I won't crack anything except eggs."

  "El—"

  I was trapped between the counter behind me and him. It would have been so easy to crumble like the buttery crust I was about to attempt. "We can't keep running into each other like this."

  "Why not?"

  "You know why not." My voice went soft. I pleaded with him, hoping he understood before forcing myself to smile and sound light. "I need my full concentration for this task. This is a recipe so delicate, so complicated, so fine, that it has never before been attempted in a home kitchen. I only have one shot at getting it right or I fail this mission. And failure is not an option. I'll be banned from the study group."

  I pointed to the kitchen table nearby. "You need to take a seat at the table."

  He nodded, ran his hands up my arms until I shuddered, and dropped his hands from my arms before taking a seat. I had to reach around him to get my recipe.

  Logan was the rare college man who had a kitchen equipped with a heavy-duty standalone Kitchen Aid mixer. Which again pointed to him having money. I was so tired of wimpy handheld mixers that smoked and stalled in heavy dough I could have cried with joy. Especially as I mixed the crust in silence, feeling Logan watching me, and the Kitchen Aid whipped through it like butter.

  As I pressed the crust into the pan, my hands covered in buttery dough, I noticed the dark oven. Logan had succeeded in rattling me.

  "Turn the oven on to three-fifty, will you?"

  "Wow, I'm honored. She's sharing the top-secret baking temp with me." He glanced at the oven. "I have permission to leave the table?"

  I grinned. "Just to turn the oven on. Practically everything bakes at three-fifty, wiseass. It's like the default temp of baking."

  He turned on the oven.

  I microwaved another stick of butter to soften it for the filling just as a gust of wind howled around the building. "If you have homework or something else you need to do… You don't have to babysit me."

  "I like watching you work."

  The way he said it made my heart race. "Okay, then make yourself useful and tell me about your dad while I work." I added the butter to the filling mixture I was putting together. "How am I supposed to impress him? What does the perfect girl for his son look like?"

  "You."

  I almost fell over. It was a good thing I was facing the counter, not him, because I was certain my face gave everything I felt away. When I composed myself, I turned slowly to face him. "Are you trying to mess with my concentration again? Do you want me to ruin these cookie bars?"

  He grinned. "I'm serious, El. Why do you think I picked you?"

  I took a deep breath and studied him. His expression was completely serious. He wasn't joking.

  I swallowed hard and tried to veer back to our agreed relationship status by ignoring what I saw and making light of what he'd said. "Because I'm the only one who owes you."

  He laughed full out.

  "You're crazy."

  I turned my attention back to my task. I poured the filling into the pan, set the timer, and popped the cookie bars into the oven. When I was finished, I turned around to face him. "Okay, while they're baking you can distract me."

  "Happily." He popped out of his chair and was next to me with his arms around me before I could protest. "I've missed you, El. I've missed you so damned much it hurts."

  "Logan—"

  "I've been thinking, if we can just hang on through this semester with the way things are, just keep our distance until after finals, them maybe we'll have a shot."

  I studied him, letting my puzzlement show. "What's special about next semester? Why then?"

  "I can't explain now. Just trust me, El. Please. I'll explain when I can."

  I swallowed hard, confused. Whatever his mystery was, it was going to be over.
If it was only him…

  But what about me? What was I going to do about Jason and Mia? But even with the stakes so high, I couldn't turn him down flat. "I'll think about it."

  He smiled. "Promise?"

  I nodded, took a step back out of his embrace, and grabbed his hands. "But for now, I'm just your fake girlfriend, okay?"

  He grinned. He wouldn't have if he knew how long the odds we faced were.

  "Let's sit in the living room." I pulled him toward the sofa. "You can finish briefing me on what your dad expects."

  We sat next to each other, thigh touching thigh.

  "I wasn't kidding earlier in the kitchen. Just be you. You're perfect—gorgeous but you don't know it." He sounded just a touch sad.

  But my pulse raced. "You need to have your eyes examined."

  He smiled. "See what I mean?"

  "Shut up. What else?"

  "You're just fishing for compliments," Logan said. "You like hearing me sing your praises."

  "You're awful. I'm just trying to help you. What else?"

  "He likes your major because he's really into tech stuff."

  "Likes? That sounds like he already knows about me." I frowned.

  "Of course he does. I had to prime him. It wouldn't feel authentic if I sprung you on him when he got here. Besides, this way I get brownie points for an extra couple of weeks.

  "He's already made dinner reservations for three. But keep the weekend open. He'll probably expect you to sit with us at the game and he mentioned something about getting a third ticket to the comedy show if he can swing it."

  My mouth went dry as the reality of meeting his dad and the depths of my deception sank in. "That all sounds like a lot of togetherness, pretty serious stuff. How many other girls have you introduced him to? Is this the way he treats them all?"

  Logan shrugged. "I have no idea. I haven't introduced him to anyone I've dated since high school."

  I paled. "That's terrible!"

  "I thought you'd be pleased."

  And I was. More than was good for me. I was also horrified at what I was doing. "What are you going to say when you and me the fake girlfriend break up?"

  He looked nonplussed. "That we didn't work out. Breakups happen."

  I didn't like the guilt that was welling up in me. "What else have you told him?"

  "That you work for Jason, too. He was thrilled. He loves Jason. Jason helped me get my shit together after I fell apart. He's Dad's hero. I told him you're Jason's second favorite after me."

  I looked away. Jason was a delicate subject.

  "Did you tell him you saved my life?"

  He shook his head. "I left that part out. Dad isn't wild about my cliff-jumping proclivities." He laughed. "Hey, lighten up. That's it. That's the end of the bio I shared with him."

  I had to make Logan see that not everything about me was perfect. "What about my family? What if he asks about them?"

  "What if?"

  "Your parents have been married a long time? Never divorced?"

  "Yeah. So?"

  I sighed. "So when your dad asks about mine, like where is he? And I say I have no idea. I never knew him. I was born out of wedlock. I don't even know who my dad is. He's going to be okay with that?"

  I didn't let him answer. "And when he asks about my mom and I say she's going through her third divorce and I don't speak to her?" I shook my head. "He's not going to like my family."

  "Who cares? They aren't you."

  I licked my lips. "Okay, I can handle this. I'll avoid mentioning them." I grabbed the TV controller, eager to change the subject. "Want to watch something while the cookie bar bakes?"

  A blast of wind and rain hit the sliding glass door off the kitchen. It was like the weather was crying with me. Logan put his arm around me. I leaned my head on his shoulder as he flicked through the channels.

  Zave and Collin breezed in, soaked and jovial. They were each loaded down with shopping bags.

  "Logan! You missed an awesome shopping run. We've been to the Goodwill and Shopper's Co. We're going to be the hottest zombies in history! We found the most frigging awesome decorations. Our party is going to be the place to be." Collin stopped short, as if just seeing me. "Oh, hello, Ellie. Our little rescue girl has finally decided to pay her old friends a visit, has she?"

  "Nice to see you, too, Collin. Zave."

  Zave dumped his bags by the sofa. "Something smells delicious." He headed to the kitchen and rubbed his hands together when he saw the cobblestone bars cooling on the counter. "The famous cobblestone bars—whoa!"

  "Keep your hands off them," Logan said. "They're El's. And they're not frosted yet. She baked them for her boyfriend."

  I rolled my eyes. "I baked them for my lab TA because he's so sweet and gives me extra help."

  "I'll give you extra help if you'll bake for me," Collin said.

  "She doesn't need your kind of help," Logan said.

  Zave dropped into the only chair in the room. Collin plopped onto the sofa next to me. "You are coming to our Halloween party on Saturday?"

  "I—"

  "It's going to be epic," Collin said.

  "Legendary." Zave grinned. "Collin's parties always are."

  "Assuming we all graduate as planned, this will be our last college Halloween bash. A Halloweekend to remember. So convenient Halloween is on a Saturday this year. It's a sign! I'm going to outdo even myself and last year's party." Collin turned to Zave. "Our renters' insurance is up to date?"

  "Dad took care of it personally."

  Collin smiled. "So it's settled. You'll come."

  I glanced at Logan.

  Collin got the message. "He hasn't invited you? Logan! Where are your manners?" He did a great imitation of a scolding mom.

  "Would you like to come to our party, Miss Martin? We would be very happy to have you as our guest." He spoke formally and stiffly on purpose.

  I laughed and bumped him with my shoulder. "If I have nothing better to do."

  "We'll take that as a yes. There isn't anything better to do." Collin grabbed the TV controller from Logan. "What are we watching?"

  "Spartacus! I almost forgot—have you fed him?" Without waiting for an answer, Zave got up and fed the fish. I thought Logan was probably right—Zave was the most likely the culprit in the case of the dying goldfish.

  "I hope you're going to put Spartacus away someplace safe for the party," I said. "You don't want him to end up like the goldfish."

  "You mean Spartacus One through Six? No, you're right," Zave said.

  "You named all the goldfish Spartacus, too?"

  Three heads nodded.

  "I'll have to keep him in my room," Zave said.

  "Or better yet, ask the girls across the hall to take him," Collin said. "No room here will be safe during our legendary Halloweekend party."

  It was one a.m. by the time I finished frosting the cobblestone bars and cleaning up. I cut a small plateful and set them out for the guys. Collin got a carton of milk from the fridge, took a sip directly from it, and got four glasses out. "Milk, anyone?"

  I politely declined. Logan and Zane got a large glass each and dug into the cobblestone bars I'd left for them.

  "These are awesome," Logan said.

  Collin spoke with his mouth full. "A worthy bribe for a lab TA, the next best thing to sex."

  I rolled my eyes. Outside, a storm raged at full force. After they'd polished off the cookie bar, Collin and Zave wandered off to their rooms. I hinted to Logan. "I should be going."

  "Do you have to, El?"

  The rain was beating against the window. The wind angrily pounding the building in gusts.

  My heart stopped. I stared at him, wondering what he was asking. I let the question shine in my eyes.

  "Zave and Collin won't care. I have an extra toothbrush you can use. I'll drive you to class in the morning." He looked completely innocent and totally beguiling.

  I hesitated and decided to make myself clear while my heart hammered in m
y ears. "They won't mind me sleeping on the couch?"

  Logan took a step into me and wrapped his arms around me. "Why would you sleep there? I'm asking you to spend the night with me."

  I licked my lips. "Logan, I'm not…I don't…"

  He kissed my forehead. "I'm not asking you for sex, El. I just want to sleep cuddled next to you for one night." His voice was tantalizingly low and tender. He ran his fingers through my hair and tipped my chin up so I had to look him in the eye. "I'm not going to force myself on a fake girlfriend. Promise." He smiled, took my hand, and led me to his bedroom.

  It was hard not to stare at the Cubs jersey and posters and hard not to remember the way his dreams had crashed.

  His bathroom was connected to his room. He led me to it and handed me a new toothbrush and a clean washcloth. "Ladies first."

  When I came out, he was shirtless, wearing only a thin pair of cotton lounge pants. I could barely keep from staring at him. The bed was open and the pillows fluffed. A T-shirt lay on the bed.

  "Choose your side." He pointed to the T-shirt. "A nightshirt, in case you want one." He disappeared into the bathroom.

  I slid off my shoes, peeled off my top and bra, and pulled the T-shirt over my head before shimmying out of my jeans and folding everything neatly. I wished I'd worn my cuter panties. The T-shirt was soft and well worn. Best of all, it smelled clean, but like him—his laundry soap and the smell of his apartment.

  I grabbed my phone and texted Bre that I'd be back in the morning. She'd expect it and freak if she didn't hear from me.

  I'd just slid into bed when Logan came out of the bathroom, his face rosy like he'd scrubbed it. "You look better in my T-shirt than I do." He flashed me a grin that melted my heart and climbed into bed next to me. "How do you like to sleep? Face to face? Spooning?"

  I shrugged. "What do you like?"

  "I'm a spooner." He lay down and patted the pillow next to him.

  I lay down, keenly aware of him as he wrapped his warm, bare arms around me. When he cuddled close to me, I felt his erection hard against me. My heart raced, nervous, scared, excited.