The Firsts Series Box Set

by M. J. Fields

  My back is to the hostess, and I watch London look at her. She’s not all that happy either.

  I look behind me.

  “I’m sorry, but are they really auctioning off a date with you?”

  I nod.

  “So, you’re single?”

  “No. Not in the least.” I look away.

  “Oh, I see.”

  I look at London who huffs and rolls her eyes slightly.

  “What?”

  London looks up again. “Is there something else?”

  The hostess is still fucking here.

  “Oh no. Sorry. I just...” She stops babbling, and then I hear the click of her heels as she walks away.

  London looks at me. “I’m not sure I like this dating thing.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “The way she looked at you, then assumed I was just some random bimbo. It was annoying and disrespectful.”

  I reach over and pull her dress up slightly, but not enough so I don’t get to stare at the vision before me. “Maybe because your tits are half exposed.”

  “Oh, please.” She laughs.

  “You’ll never be a random bimbo. You’ll always be my bimbo.” I wink and smirk at her.

  She stares at my face, and yeah, I know what she’s looking at. She calls them devil dimples, the portal to hell, so I make sure to deepen them.

  “That was very sweet, in an odd sort of way.”

  “Odd?” I lean back and cock my head as I look at her.

  “What?” She mimics me.

  “Just considering the word, that’s all.”

  Water and a basket of bread is placed on the table. I don’t look up. I don’t give a damn who delivered the food.

  London smiles at me, a beautiful smile. “Do tell.”

  “Is odd a bad thing or a good thing?”

  “It’s not normal.” She picks up her glass of water and takes a sip, making her lips nice and wet.

  “Normal is not a word that I would use to describe you or I.”

  “No?”

  I shake my head. “We’re not normal. We’re not even close. And I don’t ever want to be.”

  She leans in a little closer and looks at my lips. I look at hers.

  Fuck.

  I grab a roll out of the basket, tear it in two, and put one half to the lips I want to kiss, knowing if I do, this date won’t be what I intended on it being—a slow seduction. Very fucking slow.

  “Eat it,” I tell her when she hesitates.

  “Carbs. Beautiful, delicious, dangerous carbs.” She peeks her tongue out and licks it. Insta-hard-on. “One taste, Logan, just one, and I am going to lose all control. I’m going to crave it every second of every day, and then—”

  I take the opportunity to push it in her mouth. “Eat the damn thing and stop fucking with me. I’m trying really hard to give you everything you deserve, starting with a fucking carb.”

  She bites it and smiles. Bread sticking out of her mouth, she says something that resembles, “Sexy?”

  “Disgustingly so,” I admit because food hanging out of a woman’s mouth should at the very least make shit soften up, but it doesn’t.

  She giggles as she pushes the bread into her mouth then sits back, chewing it.

  “You’re trouble.”

  I look up as the waitress asks us if we are ready to order.

  “Didn’t even know the menus were here.” I run my hand through my hair and sit back, putting space between me and the source of my hard-on as I grab a menu. “Could you give us a couple minutes?”

  “Of course, Mr. Links.”

  When she walks away, I look at London, who is still chewing on the bread. “Mr. Links? Is my dad around?”

  She shakes her head and swallows, distracting the fuck out of me as I watch her long slender neck.

  “You’re a local hero, Logan.”

  “Not looking to be. No more than I’m looking to be auctioned off for charity.” I take a drink of my water. “Playing a sport doesn’t make me a damn hero.”

  She looks at me like Ava looks at those animals on the SPCA commercials. “Logan...” She shakes her head. “You’re a hero because you fearlessly drove into a building, jumped out of your truck, showed people a path to safety, and saved lives.”

  I look around, lean in to her, and then laugh. “Is that what they all think?”

  She touches the side of my cheek. “Not what they think, Logan. What they saw. Those cell phone videos are everywhere. You may not think of that day as heroic, but they all saw it.”

  “They saw what they wanted to see. I didn’t see shit except a path to the bathroom where your girls told me you were.”

  “And waving them under your truck to get out?”

  “Maybe I was just saying hello, or get the fuck out of my way, because there is a girl in there that I fucked up with, and if I didn’t have a chance to make it right, I wouldn’t be sitting next to her, wanting so badly to drag her out of here and have my way with her, because she looks better than a piece of bread does to a starving dancer.” I wink, and she smirks. “But I’m holding back because I did get a second chance, and I’m going to make sure that girl—you, London—never stop looking at me like you are right now.”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t talk down about yourself. You are so much more than that to everyone.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about everyone. I give a fuck about you.”

  She smiles. “I give a fuck about you, too.”

  I can’t stop fucking looking at her, even when it seems to make her uncomfortable. This is the London who won my heart before it was even ready to start beating.

  “You’re perfect for me, you know.”

  “Everything you never wanted,” she reminds me of something I said a few months ago.

  “Yeah, I’m gonna love you better than any little scene you’ve ever played over in that beautiful mind of yours.”

  She swallows hard and looks down at my pants.

  I lift her chin. “I’m not gonna fuck you tonight, London. I’m not gonna make love to you either.”

  She looks relieved, and I laugh.

  “Don’t laugh. I just want to be prepared, okay?” she whispers.

  “Prepared how?” I whisper back.

  She smiles, and that blush that was beginning disappears. “Oh, there are things we girls need to do in order to make things perfect.” She grins now.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yep.” She pushes that little nose in the air, smiling proudly at herself. “I’m going to blow your mind, Logan Links.”

  “You’ve already done that a hundred times over.”

  “Well, I’m gonna do it a million times then.”

  “No doubt you will, pretty.” I push the menu over to her. “We better figure out what we want, or they may kick us out.”

  She laughs and looks over the menu while I keep looking over her.

  §

  “I’m so gutted,” she groans, and I laugh as we walk out of the restaurant. “Laugh it up, but when I pass out from a carb high and sleep all weekend, who’s going to help with final plans for the fundraiser?”

  I shrug.

  “My dad, that’s who.” She laughs. “Won’t that be fun?”

  “He isn’t an issue for me.”

  “I’m so glad, because...” She stops and looks away.

  “Because what?”

  “Never mind.” She shakes her head.

  I nudge her. “Spill it.”

  “Can you imagine if I ever introduced them to someone who isn’t you?”

  “You mean a pussy.”

  She laughs now. “Yeah, I mean someone who isn’t as stubborn as you.”

  “Determined,” I correct.

  “I’m determined to...you know,” she says with all the self-confidence she carried on any production I have watched her in.

  “What are you determined to do?”

  “Make you love me—”

  I interrupt her with a laugh. “Already
do.”

  She turns and looks at me. “Yeah, I know. But I’m gonna make it so you never stop. I’m gonna make it so you never run off to that house again, trying to get away from me. I’m gonna—”

  “Putting you first took me there.”

  Her face falls a bit.

  “I’ll do that a million times over.”

  “Well, I’m never gonna make you have to again.”

  I hug her. “You and I doing things right, going on dates, getting to really spend time with each other, putting us on the top of our priority lists—we’ll be fine.”

  She looks up at me. “I know we will. But I know you have needs and—”

  “I need to experience all the same firsts as you do.”

  “You’ve experienced a lot more than I have.”

  “If you’re talking about fucking, I’ve had all the wrong kinds of experiences. I can’t wait until I experience that with you.”

  She looks down. “So, when?”

  “You’re making this too much fun, London. The waiting, the anticipation—all that shit I have never experienced. You have no idea how much I’m loving every beautiful experience with you, so we’ll get there when it’s time.”

  “But you know I need to be prepared,” she reminds me.

  “You’ll be well-prepared and that, London, will be the only time you’ll be thankful I’m experienced.”

  Her eyes widen.

  “So, think of my past as training leading up to the big game.”

  I get a fucking high from watching her nervous excitement. But when she does what she’s doing now, looking at me with anticipation, I catch a bit of it, which makes me even higher.

  I hear music and look around. Across the street is a little bar I have never been in.

  “Let’s grab a drink,” I say, taking her hand and walking toward the bar.

  I really don’t want a drink, but I hear music, which makes me want to dance with her.

  “I don’t have my ID,” she says, laughing as I hurry us across the road.

  “If I’m all you think I am, it shouldn’t be a problem.” I smile back at her as I open the door. “After you.”

  She smiles as she walks in, and yeah, I watch her ass, following closely behind.

  “I love this song,” she says as I grab the hand reaching for her.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I tell the fucker.

  “It’s my fucking job, man.” He looks up at me. “Shit, Links?”

  I shrug.

  “So, this is—”

  I hold my finger to my mouth. “Let her have some fun.”

  He nods. “Yeah, of course.”

  She smiles back at me and raises her hands in the air. “I love this song!”

  Until just now, I was caught up in the moment, like she is now. I didn’t even think about being in a fucking bar with her. I wish to fuck I had a hat on, because as soon as she sees me, she’s going to know.

  “Come on.” She smiles.

  I look around the bar. There are a dozen people or so, all couples, all older, and all seem fucking normal.

  “Logan.” She continues to smile. “Come dance with me.”

  Fuck, I think as I walk over to her.

  Her hands are on my shoulders. She runs them up my neck and to each side of my face. “Dance with me.” Her eyes aren’t smiling as much now, but she’s trying. “Dance with me in this bar, Logan.”

  “You okay?”

  She nods. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

  I pull her into my arms, and we fucking dance.

  When the song changes, she looks up at me. “My father used to love this song.”

  “Troy?” I ask, and she nods. “What’s it called, London?”

  “ ‘High Enough’ by Damn Yankees.”

  “You know the words?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sing to me?”

  She smiles and nods, and then, when the chorus begins, she sings, “Don’t say goodnight, say you’re gonna stay forever. Oh, whoa, all the way. Can you take me high enough to fly me over yesterday?”

  I know this song. I don’t know where or when I heard it, but I remember it.

  I start singing with her, “It’s never over, and yesterday’s just a memory.”

  She hugs me tighter around the neck, and I do the same, as she sings in my ear and we dance to a song that makes a hell of a lot of sense.

  No fucking way I want to live without her, not for a damn minute.

  When the song ends, another begins.

  “You know this one, too?”

  “God yes, my dad loved hair bands.”

  “Keep singing to me, pretty. I’ll keep holding you tight.”

  After several ballads are played and a few groups of people begin to trickle in, the music gets faster .

  “You ready to get out of here?”

  “Home?” she asks on a yawn.

  “Yeah.”

  As we are walking out, London tugs on my hand, and I look back. Then she smirks and points to the corner of the bar.

  Fletcher fucking Reeves.

  I look at her. “You wanna go say hi?”

  “Heck no!” She laughs.

  “Thought you were friends,” I say, turning as if I’m going to go say hello myself.

  “Don’t you dare.” She laughs again, yanking me back.

  “Why not?”

  “He’s on a date.”

  “So?”

  “So, that’s Mademoiselle Antoinette.”

  “Another friend. That makes two. We should definitely say hello.”

  She pulls my hand hard this time. “She’s a professor.”

  I glance over to see her hand running up his thigh.

  “Oh, my God,” London says, tugging my hand. “Let’s go.”

  When we get outside, she’s laughing, not one bit upset that fucker is with someone else, and looking at me like I’m the shit. And you know what? I fucking am.

  “Just one question?”

  “What?” she asks, gripping my shirt.

  “Did the bow tie do anything for you?”

  She pushes me. “No, this is actually the first time I’ve seen him wearing one.”

  “You rethinking this?” I motion between us.

  “I don’t think so.” She grips my shirt and pulls me hard against her. “Can’t get rid of me that quickly.”

  New Normal

  London

  As suspected, the past week has been incredibly busy and very emotional. Mom, Brody, Tessa, Lucas, Maddox, Harper, and even Grandma Josie have been here most of the time. Keeka and Grandma seem to be getting very close. It’s good to see her taking time away from her bar to live. It’s just as good to see Keeka smile, even when she looks overwhelmed. I have caught her crying many nights when I come in to cuddle up against Logan.

  Her tears do not affect me like Lexington’s. Hers are tears caused by an overwhelming amount of emotions. Two nights this past week, I have fallen asleep talking to her while she’s feeding Leddie.

  The first morning, Logan asked me if everything was okay when I walked out of her room.

  “Just peeked in to see if she needed anything, and she was crying while feeding Leddie,” I answered.

  “At the hospital, Tessa voiced concerns about postpartum depression. I looked it up. I saw it in the hospital and a couple days after we came home—”

  “I think that was more about her being scared,” I said as he wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed the top of my head before handing me a cup of coffee.

  “Saw a big change in her the night I left,” he said, kissing the top of my head again.

  Feeling guilty, I looked up at him. “I’m—”

  “Don’t be. Just part of what got us where we are now.”

  I nodded, smiling. God, I smile so much now.

  “So, you think she’s okay?”

  “No way does she have postpartum depression. Postpartum obsession maybe. I mean, think about it. How often do you get to
have Leddie strapped to you in that baby bjorn?”

  “The what?”

  “The carrier thing.”

  He smirked. “Not a lot since the day I came back.”

  “What?”

  “Swear to God, when I came back here and saw you all un-showered and having taken up residence in my bed, I considered putting you in that thing and carrying you around.”

  I smacked his abs and he laughed as he took my hand and kissed it.

  “Seriously, though, we need to figure out what’s up with her.”

  “I’m fine,” Keeka said, carrying Leddie into the room.

  “I wasn’t insinuating you weren’t; just want to do something to help if you’re unhappy,” Logan told her.

  “I’m un-showered. Which one of you wants to hold Leddie so I can shower?”

  “I do!” We both answered at the same time.

  “I win.” I smiled, getting to her first.

  Logan handed her a cup of coffee. “It’s decaf.”

  “Postpartum obsession.” Keeka giggled as she walked back to her room.

  I watched him scratch his head as she walked away and shut the door. “Something’s up.”

  “Your uncle Logan is crazy, huh, Leddie? Tell him. Yes, you tell him that your mommy loves you and is happy and is no longer fighting being here or accepting help. She’s just emotional. Yes, she is. It’s a girl thing, huh? Tell him.” I turned her to face him to find him looking at me like I cracked. “What?” I laughed.

  “There are two things already this morning that I refuse to waste my energy on trying to figure out. The first is why mothers spend so much time in the bathroom, and the second is why grown women talk to babies as if they’re babies, too.”

  I couldn’t help laughing, and if at all possible, I thought I loved Logan Links even...more.

  §

  It’s Wednesday evening when Clive pulls up in front of the apartment building.

  “The second floor is all lit up, Miss London. Will you be staying in for the night?”

  I lean forward and smile. “You’re officially off London detail, Clive. I’m not going anywhere without Logan. I’m assuming Maddox and Dad are here, as well?”

  He nods and winks. “Goodnight then.”

  “Goodnight, Clive.”

  When I walk in, Logan is in the lobby with Leddie strapped to him.