by Lexy Timms
“It is. But he’s not here to sign autographs; he’s here as a client. Don’t forget that. And don’t start all that in front of Ryan. Our firm handles a lot of high profile clients, and the partners expect complete professionalism.”
“Of course,” Victoria said, apparently finally realizing that Olivia was waiting on her and gathering up the files and papers to head for the door.
“Thank you, Victoria.” Olivia all but pushed the woman out of her office, closing the door behind her. She was angry at Ryan for so many things, but Victoria’s comment about the tour made her heart leap.
She could find Logan by his tour schedule. It was so simple, an answer right there in front of her, but she’d been so overwhelmed by what had happened, by Ryan’s sudden and utterly unexpected appearance at her door the night before. By his almost delusional statements about wanting her long before she’d become involved with Logan. It all made her sick to her stomach.
And then Logan had been there in the open doorway, watching as Ryan held her. Kissed her. Touched her. She didn’t know how much he’d seen—or heard—but it had obviously been enough that he’d decided he didn’t need to know the rest of the story.
She sat down again behind her desk, running a quick search for Revival’s schedule. It wasn’t difficult to find; the band’s website was the first result. They were playing one more show in the states, in Boston. In... Olivia glanced down at her watch. Less than eight hours.
“Damn.” Her calendar was booked full through the end of the day. There was no way she could get to Boston for the concern. And, as Victoria had said, it was sold out.
She scrolled further down the page. There were concerts listed in Europe, the first in London in just a few days. It was also listed as sold out. But there was one in Scotland, in Inverness, the day after that, at what appeared to be a fairly small venue, and by some miracle there were tickets left. She clicked on the link and scanned quickly through the information, hear heart racing. One more click, one more link, and she had what she wanted. A ticket to the concert.
Now, I just need a flight. And to tell Ryan she was taking off from work. Which wasn’t going to go well.
The flight proved to be costly, but doable. She booked it for the day after next and leaned back in her chair. She had no real plan other than to get to Inverness, but at least she knew she’d be in the same place as Logan. For the hundredth time that day, she dialed his cell phone. It went straight to voicemail, and she left the same message she’d left so many times over the past twelve hours.
“Logan. Please. Please call me. I can explain. It wasn’t what you thought.”
There was nothing more she could do... Except face Ryan.
Chapter Twelve
Ryan’s door was open, and she knocked lightly. He was sitting at his desk with a file open in front of him and reading glasses perched on his nose. Glancing up, he regarded her a moment before closing the file. With deliberately slow motions, he removed his glasses, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I’ll never get used to these things, I guess.” He smiled and rose, coming around his desk. “Come in. Please have a seat.”
She stepped into the office. “I’d rather not sit. I’m not going to be here that long.” She tried to steady her breathing, but her heart raced and her hands were shaking. Get it under control, Olivia.
“I need to take some time off. Soon. Starting tomorrow afternoon, actually. I’m... I don’t know when I’ll be back. Maybe not for a week.”
She knew she was treading on thin ice with Ryan. Even when their working relationship had been more stable, he’d required at least a week’s notice for time off. But now, with Logan leaving for Scotland in a day’s time, Olivia was desperate. And she was angry enough with Ryan to deal with however he reacted.
“Olivia, you know you can’t take leave on such short notice, unless it’s an emergency.”
He walked toward her, reaching behind her to push the door closed. The sound of it slamming was loud, and she jumped.
“What’s gotten into you?” He watched her a moment, hands clasped behind his back. “You’re jumpy. You’re rushing off to who knows where on a whim.” He moved forward as he continued to speak, pacing around her. Olivia turned her head to follow his motion. “But I think I know where you’re going. And who you’re going after.”
Ryan stopped behind her, and she felt his hands coming down on her shoulders. “I think there’s something you’re not telling me. And I want to know where you’re going.”
“Take your hands off me now.” She was surprised by how calm she managed to sound. “Now.”
The stir of his breath on her neck as he spoke made her cringe. “Or? We’ve had this conversation before. You’ll go to human resources. You’ll file a complaint. I know; you’ve told me this. And I’ve said go ahead, because no one will believe you. And now you’re being an insubordinate employee, not following protocol.” His voice dropped lower. “You’re being willfully disobedient, Olivia. I could write you up, you know.”
His lips were suddenly on her neck, and she jerked out of his grip, spinning around to face him with anger fueling her movements. But Ryan only watched her calmly, a smug smile on his face.
“Are you going to slap me again? I enjoyed your little outburst last night.” He moved closer. “And I liked the pain.”
“You’re sick, you know that?”
“Am I?” He laughed. “As to your leave-”
“I’m taking it. I’ll be out of the office after lunch tomorrow. You can check with the new paralegal you hired—I forget her name—if you need anything with my cases. Or Lori can help you. And you can write me up, if you want.” Olivia could hear the rising anger in her voice, but for once didn’t lower it. She liked the way it made her feel. Strong. Finally standing up to him. “There are things in my life you cannot control, and this is one of them.”
For a moment, Ryan was silent, and she wondered if she’d surprised him. He shook his head. “You’re making an unwise choice. I’m sorry to see things heading in this direction.”
Moving around behind his desk, he sat down again, opening the file he’d abandoned, and reached for his glasses. Without looking up, he spoke.
“You’re granted... indefinite leave. Do what you think you have to. Just know that there are consequences waiting for you when you return.”
Olivia’s hands were shaking as she opened the door. Lori was at her desk and looked up briefly as Olivia walked past.
“Olivia,” she said, swiveling in her chair. “About Victoria...”
“I’m sorry, Lori. Later. I don’t have time right now.”
She pushed open the stairwell door, walking one flight down before she stopped, sinking onto the top step. It was becoming a familiar location. The last thing she wanted to do was anger Ryan further, but there was no way she was going to let him stand between her and any chance she might have with Logan.
When her hands had stopped shaking and her trip-hammering heart had slowed, she finished the descent back to her floor.
Victoria flagged Olivia down as soon as she came into view, waving an envelope. Olivia detoured over to her desk.
“Yes, Victoria?”
“It’s from Ashton’s attorney,” she said, proffering the envelope. “I thought you’d want to see it right away.”
“Oh. Yes. Thank you.” Olivia ripped open the thick envelope and pulled out the creamy sheets of expensive paper, scanning them quickly. A frown creased her forehead.
“They want to file a counter claim. I thought that might happen.”
“What are you going to do?”
Olivia didn’t answer. Hardly even heard the words. She was already walking away, still reading through the dense legal language on the papers.
Once she’d closed the door to her office behind her, Olivia tossed the papers onto her desk, pacing the room in agitation. Logan might have left, but he was still her client, and she had a duty to him to deal with the count
er claim from Ashton, but there wasn’t time. Not if she wanted to bring him back into her life as more than just a professional acquaintance.
Logan was the man she loved. The man who loved her. Or, at least, the man who had. Maybe still did. But if she didn’t do something to try and find him quickly, to make him listen to reason, she would surely lose him forever.
On the other hand, if she neglected his case, her job would be on the line. This was a big case, the kind people in her industry would deem ‘career making.’ It was big for her, but also big for the firm.
So there was the decision. Choose her career or choose her love for Logan. And as she pondered what to do, she realized that it was a simple decision after all.
OLIVIA TRIED TO SLEEP on the flight, but under LED lights in a plane that was starting to feel very cramped, it was little use. Anxiety and uncertainty over what exactly she would do when she reached Scotland—much less what she would do when she finally tracked down Logan—made her restless. The interminable layover in Amsterdam nearly drove her mad. She paced the airports from end to end, too tire to enjoy the architecture of either place, too keyed up even to eat.
Inverness, when she finally arrived, was cold and raining, the sky low and heavy with gray clouds. She asked the taxi driver to take her to a local shopping mall so she could grab something warm. The light jacket that had been fine in New York was little protection against the elements, and she shivered as she stood on the narrow street. She ducked into the first shop that sold women’s clothing and bought a thick wool sweater.
After finally getting warm for the first time since she’d arrived, Olivia headed to her hotel. It was a tiny little place, tucked at the end of a dead-end street, and she was glad she’d taken a taxi instead of renting a car. She never would have found the place on her own.
She was also absolutely exhausted. Collapsing onto the lumpy bed in the tiny, damp room, she tried once more in vain to sleep, dozing fitfully for a short time. But she was almost too tired to sleep, and her stomach rumbled, reminding her of the meals she’d missed since she left New York.
Sleep wasn’t going to happen. Giving up on it for the moment, Olivia made her way to the bar downstairs, only to find she’d missed the dinner service. Dejected, she slumped onto a barstool. The man behind the bar gave her a sympathetic smile.
“I suppose we can fix ye a plate of beans and bridie. And ye’ll have a drink on the house.”
Somewhere, Olivia found a smile for him. “Thank you, that’s very kind. I’ve... I was going to say I’d had a long day, but I think it’s been more like a long month. So really, it means a lot.”
The barman smiled again, and poured her the promised drink, making polite conversation while she waited for whatever a ‘bridie’ was. He asked what brought her to Inverness.
Olivia took a long swallow from the glass he’d poured. “I came to see Logan Graham at the Ironworks.”
Saying his name out loud made her heart flutter. Even though it had only been a few days, it seemed so long since she’d seen him. A flush that could have been from thinking of Logan, or from the heat of the Scotch, crept up her face. Even with a splash of water, it was potent, although she was more prepared for the bite of the liquid on her tongue than she might have been a few months ago, before Logan and the Macallan.
“Aye. Graham’s a local lad. A good lad, at that. Come back to do a special show, just for us. Added last minute, so I hear. You’re lucky ye got tickets.” He winked at her and went off to see to a customer at the far end of the bar.
I am lucky. Olivia looked down at the amber liquid in her glass and tried not to think about Macallan spilled across her kitchen floor. I just hope my luck holds.
Chapter Thirteen
The day of the show dragged interminably for Olivia. She tried going through her emails, focusing on what work she could do remotely, but the words kept blurring in front of her eyes, the lack of sleep in recent days taking its toll. Finally, she shut the laptop and escaped the confines of her room, walking up and down the narrow streets of Inverness. She glanced in shop windows here and there, though nothing really held her attention, walked far enough to discover Inverness castle perched on a short hill above the River Ness. The day was again cloudy, and the castle looked gloomy and imposing, its eight-sided tower rising above the other buildings. Olivia shivered in her new sweater and headed back to the hotel.
That night, she took a taxi to the Ironworks, not trusting her ability to find it on foot, even though the man behind the bar had assured her that it was short, easy walk. The look of the building surprised her. It was low and whitewashed, as so many of Inverness’ buildings seemed to be. But it was much smaller than any concert venue she’d ever been to.
Once inside, however, she found that it was larger than it appeared, though still somehow managing to be cozy and welcoming. Quite an unusual venue for a rock concert.
A gigantic stone hearth at one end of the room held a huge, roaring fire, its warmth wiping away the chill of the night. A simple stage was at the other end of the narrow room, raised slightly above the main floor. It as an intimate arrangement and placed the audience very close to the performers. There were no huge amps, no heavy sound equipment on the stage, and it occurred to Olivia that this must be an acoustic performance.
Her heart was racing as she made her way to the front of the seating area. There were small tables scattered around the room, and she sat with a group of people who happily shifted their chairs to include her at the one they’d claimed.
When the lights in the house went down and the stage lights came up, Olivia momentarily forgot to breathe. The drummer came out, settling himself behind his kit. The other two men picked up their guitars, strumming a few chords, talking quietly. There was a moment of silence that stretched on for too long, just the three of them on stage, and Olivia wondered if Logan was actually going to perform with the group. The thought suddenly struck her that the band might have split up over the suit, that Logan might not even be here at all. As the crowd around her started to murmur, a wave of anxiety broke over her.
Then Logan walked on stage, and Olivia’s heart almost stopped, her breath catching in her throat. Even in this small space, he exuded charm and charisma, totally captivating the crowd without saying a word, with just a smile.
But the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something missing—a vital spark she’d come to know, and love, was gone. He looked the same: tall, handsome, muscles moving smoothly under his skin when he shifted his weight. A rock star in every sense of the word. But it wasn’t Logan, not the one she had fallen for. He was playing a part he didn’t feel. Her heart ached for him, for the missing joy she wanted to see in his face.
He’d pulled a tall stool to the center of the stage and he perched on it, looking over the crowd for a moment. His eyes skimmed the table where she sat, but there was no change in his expression. Either he didn’t see her, or—her heart sank at the thought—he had seen her. Slowly raising the microphone, he spoke.
“I’d like to thank you all for coming out tonight. We’re here because this is where we started and we need to remember that. This is our home. Change may happen, love may come and then be lost, but home is where they’ll always welcome you back. And so, we’re here.”
The crowd erupted in applause and loud cheers, but Olivia sat without moving, numb and silent. His words pierced her, made her want more than anything to bolt from her chair and climb on stage, let him know that she hadn’t left him, hadn’t ever meant for him to be heart. But she forced herself to remain as the crowd finally settled down around her.
Logan stood, setting the stool aside. The band picked up, and he began to sing. Olivia quickly found herself lost in the music. She’d only heard a few of their songs on the radio, with professional arrangements and production effects, and everything else that came with a studio recording.
But here it was just him and his band. Four guys making music. Logan’s voice was so pure, the
melodies simple and direct, every note exactly what was needed and nothing more. It was the essence of each song, and Olivia was entranced.
Finally, Logan pulled the stool back to center stage, settling himself on it. The drummer and bass guitar player quietly left the stage, leaving only the other man, who picked up a battered acoustic guitar and stool, sitting behind Logan.
Olivia watched, mesmerized, as the stage lights dimmed, leaving Logan in a soft circle of illumination. He cleared his throat, taking a drink from a bottle of water, and looked out over the crowd.
“I want to thank all of you for supporting us,” he said, the soft words carried through the room by the mic’s amplification. “It means a great deal. The last song we’re going to perform is one I wrote a long time ago, in the wee hours of the morning, back when we were playing in pubs for pints. Some of you may know it.” His lips turned up for a moment in a smile that was more genuine than the earlier one had been. “I know the words now, so I’m not needing to read them from a paper stuck to the stage floor.”
There was a ripple of laughter in the crowd, and Olivia saw more than one person nodding their heads.
“For all of who’ve been with us from the start, this is for you.”
The song was in Gaelic, and Olivia didn’t understand any of the words, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t need to. Watching Logan’s face, she could feel the love and the longing in it. The crowd joined in, softly at first, then louder, and at the end Logan stood, holding out the microphone to the audience, encouraging them to finish the song. The light caught in a glint in his eyes that she thought looked like tears.
As the song finished and applause rose up around them, Olivia turned to the man sitting beside her.
