She left yet another message, worrying about why she hadn’t heard from them. Surely if someone were sick, they would have told her. Though no one had mentioned when their neighbor, Mr. Baker, died. It had taken a year for her to find out, and only because she’d asked how he was. They claimed they didn’t think to tell her because they knew she wouldn’t come back for the funeral. True, she hadn’t been back since the day she left. Maybe she should go, surprise them. Adolescent transgressions weren’t meant to haunt you forever.
Ever since that one mistake, she’d been careful. Never acting in a way that would make her family anything but proud. But even a college degree, owning her own home, and having a successful career couldn’t seem to make up for the five minutes of her life when she did what she knew she shouldn’t.
Everything about that moment felt wrong. Or was that just hindsight? Even though in her head she knew being with Logan was risky, it didn’t feel wrong or forbidden or unnatural. But if she and Logan were exposed, ugly rumors would circulate and things would rapidly spiral out of control. Would she change her mind about the way she felt now?
She closed her eyes against the idea. Regret wasn’t something she wanted to associate with Logan. She’d much rather focus on the way she felt around him, light and complete and, dare she think it, happy.
She turned to watch as he slept on his stomach, not a care in the world. How did he break through her defenses so easily? Was he good at searching for someone’s weaknesses and exploiting them, or did he really care as much as he seemed to?
He stirred, rolling onto his back and rubbing his hand over his stomach until it disappeared beneath the sheet. She smiled, knowing where it went. She had plenty of time to wallow in doubt when he wasn’t around. Since he was here, and willing even while he slept, best to enjoy him while she still had the chance.
Chapter Twelve
“Artichoke hearts?” Logan picked the offending vegetable from the pizza and set it in the box. “You couldn’t meet me halfway?”
“What’s halfway? Mushrooms?” Breeze sat cross-legged on the couch, the pizza between them.
“Half-meat, half-veggie. I’d do it for you.” Her choice of topping didn’t keep him from eating half of the pie, and draining two of the root beers he’d salvaged from the vending machine down the hall.
“I didn’t think about it. Next time, I promise.” She leaned forward, wiping some sauce from the corner of his mouth with her thumb.
He caught her wrist. “That’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”
“I’m supposed to look at you with sauce on your face?”
With his other hand, he swiped the box onto the floor and pulled her across the couch and into his lap. His mouth found hers and she lost herself in his kisses. Every move had an air of authority, a confidence that reassured her. When he pulled away, he held her face in his hands and her soul in his mesmerizing gaze.
“I got you a present,” he said with a smile, pulling her deeper into his spell.
“I know. I’ve enjoyed it twice already.” She smiled back at him, hoping he’d catch her meaning and take control.
“I love how your naughty mind works, but I don’t want you thinking that’s the only reason I came to see you.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He laughed so hard she shook against his bare chest. “No, I want you, but I want to spend some time not horizontal too.” He sat up and shifted her off him.
She made a face and stood, gathering the napkins and empty pop cans. “We could watch television. Maybe one of the movie channels?”
“What movie channels?” The corner of his mouth twitched and he raised an eyebrow.
“Whatever one is playing a movie you haven’t seen. I don’t watch many movies, so I’m game for anything.”
“What are you asking to watch exactly?”
“I don’t know. Not horror or drama, just something light and mindless. Comedy or action, I guess.”
“Oh.” He let out a deep breath and a silent chuckle.
“What?” The room straightened, she sat back down on the couch and pulled a pillow into her lap.
“I thought you were talking about the adult movie channels.”
She gasped, covering her gaping mouth with her hand.
“Good. Because porn is really not my thing.”
She scrunched her eyebrows. “I thought guys like porn.”
“Some.” He shrugged. “I just get weirded out by it. Always have, since my first peek at a magazine at a friend’s house. Probably because the model looked like my sister. I can’t get out of my head that those people have families, real lives. So unless we make one, you’re on your own with that.”
“I don’t…we’re not…” She waved her hands through the air, then plopped them onto the pillow. “Next subject please.”
“Let’s see what’s in my bag of tricks.” He reached behind him for the shopping bag and held it between them. “Close your eyes and pick something.”
She stuck her hand inside and grabbed the first thing she encountered. What she found tightened her throat. Our Family History. She flipped it open, her eyes growing heavy at all the questions and blank space to fill in.
“Did you call your mom?”
“She hasn’t been home.” She cleared her throat. “They’ll love going through this. Thank you.”
“We could do one now.”
“One what?” She shut the book, another inch closer to deciding she would finally go back home for a visit.
“A question.” He pulled the book from her hands and opened it. “How about family vacations? What were yours like?”
“You go first.” She forced a smile and welcomed the distraction.
“We used to go back to Vermont every Thanksgiving. It’s where my mom grew up.”
“That’s nice. It’s supposed to be beautiful there in autumn with all the leaves.”
“Some years there were still leaves. But the last year we went was a blast. We landed fine, drove the hour to my grandparents’ house, no problem. Then while we were eating lunch it started to snow.
“Janelle and I were excited. We were lucky to get snow every four years at home. We went out and played and played until we were frozen stiff. We went to sleep that night staring out the window.
“We woke up to four feet of snow, completely snowed in. It was Vermont, so they were used to that and had the streets cleared by nightfall. But that morning, it was gorgeous. We opened the upstairs windows and watched the light reflecting everywhere off the snowbanks.”
“How old were you?”
“Nine.”
“You never went again?”
He shook his head, a wistful smile twisting his lips. “My grandfather died and my grandmother planned to come live with us. But she never made it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She reached for his hand and held his fingers in hers.
“My mom said they couldn’t stand to be apart.” He shrugged and took a deep breath. “Your turn.”
“I don’t have anything like that.” She pouted and hugged the pillow, searching her mind.
“Did you visit your grandparents?”
“My grandmother. My dad is older than my mom; his parents were gone before I was born. I’d get to visit my grandmother and she’d take me shopping in one of her stores. It was fantastic. I even got my hair done, straightened. I got to be somebody else.”
He crinkled his nose. “How long is it when it’s straight?”
“Think Lady Godiva.”
His head fell back on his shoulders and he groaned.
“I’ll get it straightened the next time I get it cut. It takes too long to do it myself.”
“I like it curly. I don’t think it would be as much fun to play with straight. But you know, if you wanted to make that video…”
“Not happening. What else is in the bag?”
He held up the bag again and she dug in, coming up with the complete works of Shakespear
e. He dug in the bag and handed her a study guide.
“Where are you going with this?”
“I love Shakespeare.”
“You do?” She narrowed her eyes, trying to see just what he meant.
“My mom taught it at the university. They do Shakespeare in the park in August. I was thinking we’d go together.”
“You’re asking me out on a date I need to study for?” She set the books on the floor. August was still three weeks away, and two weeks past his usual relationship limit.
“I want you to be able to follow along.”
“Have you been to the Shakespeare festival in Ashland?”
“I try.Mmost years I make it down.”
“I grew up in Ashland. They have some great programs for home-schooled kids. Growing up, I saw every production, a dozen plays a year. And I got to work on the sets, in the box office, in the chorus, ushering.”
“Wow. Let’s go when the project wraps. You’re getting some time off and the festival runs all summer.”
Adrenaline rushed through her veins. Even though Logan knew the humiliation she’d suffered back home, he didn’t know how ugly it had gotten, had never seen the way people looked at her. She wouldn’t risk letting him.
“Shakespeare in the park sounds nice.” Two could play at this meet the family game. “Maybe your parents could come too.”
His expression went blank and he took a deep breath. “They died when I was sixteen.”
“Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“I know. I don’t talk about it, and it’s not something that comes up easily.”
She pushed the pillow to the floor and crawled over his legs to wrap her arms around him and rest her head on his shoulder.
“I’m okay. You don’t have to—”
“Give me a minute here. You’ve had time to deal with this, I just found out.” She couldn’t let him see the tears in her eyes, so she didn’t look up, just squeezed tighter.
As she held him, her image of him came into sharper focus. This must be why he always encouraged her to call her parents. Between their death in his teens and his nearly dying during the bus accident, it was no wonder he was so committed to living every moment. To not planning for a future that might never come. It wasn’t her he was avoiding, it was losing something he loved like his parents and soccer.
“I didn’t expect this from you.” He twisted a curl between his fingertips.
She listened as he told her about the car accident, acting out and coming to terms with it, all Janelle sacrificed so he wouldn’t have to change anything else in his life.
He placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Now, up with you. There is one more present in the bag.”
She sat up and wiped her eyes, glad for the subject change but not for the distance. Especially when he widened it by standing up and walking away.
“Where are you going?”
He pointed to the bathroom door and stepped inside, closing it behind him. She used the time to take a deep breath and try to come to terms with what she’d learned. Their relationship working beyond stolen moments and dark hotel rooms took on an entirely new significance. Breeze was grateful he’d pursued her. He must have felt something special too, maybe even more than she did to trust her with this much of himself. Hope washed over her, making her want to show him she understood all he’d trusted her with. But how?
The bag sat at her feet and she looked inside. What she found wasn’t a book, but a box. Opening it, she was hit by the warm smell of chocolate before she even removed the booklet and lifted the paper liner.
Inside were rows of chocolate disks and tubs of something else. Knitting her brows together, she balanced the box on her crossed legs and opened the booklet. It explained how chocolate was made. Each of the tubs showed the different stages in the process. Beans, nibs, butter, unsweetened chocolate. The chocolate disks demonstrated the kinds of chocolate, white and milk, and the differing cocoa contents of dark chocolate.
“You found it.” She looked up to find Logan next to her. He set down two glasses of water and joined her on the couch. “It looks like fun, right?”
“Eating an entire box of chocolate? What’s not to like?” She opened the tub of cocoa butter and sniffed. It had a warm aroma, but nothing like chocolate. She set it down.
“Mmm. Cocoa butter.” He picked it up and sniffed, then made a face. “I thought it would be like tanning lotion.”
“Why?” She laughed and opened the beans. Again, no chocolate smell. Quite disappointing.
“Isn’t that what tanning lotion smells like? Cocoa butter?” He sniffed again and shrugged.
“I think that’s coconut oil.” She tried the cocoa nibs, the smell recognizable, but not strong. “It’s amazing, the amount of processing that goes into chocolate. I mean, for hundreds of years, they just chomped on beans. Just like coffee.”
“I bet finding chocolate was a mistake. Coffee too. Someone messed up in the kitchen and, voila, new treat.”
Opening the unsweetened chocolate, she took a deep whiff, the rich, warm smell invading her lungs. “If they had a chocolate perfume, I’d wear it.”
“Really?” He quirked an eyebrow and grabbed a white chocolate disk, rubbing the edge on his lips, then holding it up. “Come and see how you like white chocolate.”
She made a face. “I don’t. It’s too sweet.”
“Just try it.” He held out his disk and she grabbed his wrist, taking a small nibble from the chocolate.
“Not for me.” She picked up a disk on the far end of the box, nearly black it was so dark. Eighty-five percent cocoa. She bit into the piece and hummed her approval. He mirrored her move, then scrunched his face.
“How can you eat that? It’s almost bitter.”
“With other kinds I taste the sugar, not the chocolate.” She laid the rest of the disk flat on her tongue and let it melt.
“I’m a milk chocolate person myself. I go crazy in Europe. All the chocolate is dark and buttery. I like American milk chocolate. Sweet and creamy.” He ate a milk chocolate disk whole.
“How often do you go to Europe?” She took the next grade of chocolate, seventy-two percent, and was pleased to find it just as delicious.
“For work? About twice a year. But I was thinking about when I played soccer and we’d go more often. The US is really the only place soccer is a minor sport. In Europe, they have amazing training facilities, and the fans are incredible. It’s wild.”
“Are you gone a lot for work?” She drained her water, then tried the next step down on the chocolate ladder, sixty percent. Definitely sweeter and not as smooth. But still good.
“Some. I will more as Kicks launches internationally. Unless I’m able to segue over into brand marketing. Then I’ll only have to travel for events, like the Olympics. And the Superbowl. The Final Four. It’s every sports nut’s dream job.”
“You don’t want to stay with Kicks?”
“I love the concept, and I’ll do what I can to support Kicks and Kellen, no matter what. But brand marketing is too big of an opportunity to pass up. Kellen will understand.” He took another milk chocolate disk.
“Live a little.” She handed him a sixty percent. “I was thinking about after, when we get home, and how much you’ll be around. I could work like normal while you’re gone and only feel guilty when you’re home.”
“Glad my schedule accommodates your workaholic tendencies.” He took a sip from his glass. “But there’s another way we could see more of each other.”
“Is there?” Breeze set the box aside, not wanting anything in the way if he was willing to talk about where the relationship was going.
“Nitrous wants you to run one of the local retail stores.”
Her eyes widened and she shook her head slowly. “You want me to work for Nitrous? That causes more problems than it solves.”
“Not work for me.” He reached for her hand, but she kept her fingers straight and stiff as he held it.
“The director of US retail is very impressed. She wants someone with your kind of drive on her team. I have the specifics of the offer with me, and proof from the employee handbook that as long as we work for separate departments, our relationship won’t be an issue for Nitrous.”
Breeze swallowed hard and blinked, trying to think of how to respond. Had he opened up to deepen what they shared, or only to get her to feel more comfortable with him and want to work for Nitrous? “Working for the same company would force us to keep hiding our relationship. Is that what you want?”
“There’s no need to do that. You’ll work at the store level, not even on the Nitrous campus. It will be better for you. Nitrous requires you have two days off a week, and take at least five weeks of vacation a year. Not like what you do now.”
True, she hadn’t taken a vacation since starting with Mendelssohn’s, and always worked six days a week. The thought of having too much time to herself niggled at her belly. What would she do if she couldn’t go to work?
“You’re still thinking we shouldn’t work for the same company. Really, it’s no big deal. Janelle and her husband both work at Nitrous. And on my team there’s a guy whose wife works in accounting.”
“Those people are married, Logan. We’re barely dating. If things don’t work out it’ll get awkward. And I’m on the right track with Mendelssohn’s.” Though as she rose in the company she’d have to start moving to where the positions were open, instead of being able to stay in her home state. Which meant she’d see her family even less, unless she went to them.
“Think about it later. Lose the shirt.”
“Excuse me?” She crossed her arms across her breasts, holding his shirt to her body at her sides.
“Look at the size of these disks? Do they give you any ideas?” He circled his finger and thumb around a white chocolate circle, holding it in the air.
“None.”
“Then I get to go first.” He picked up the box and walked to the bed, setting the box on the nightstand. “Come on.” He extended a hand.
“I’m not following you.”
“Ah, I see you need more convincing.” He stalked to the couch, nearly pouncing on top of her and unfastening her hands from her sides. “Chocolate melts.” He nuzzled into her neck, breathing against the spot behind her ear that made her squirm. “I’m going to lay you down. You’re so hot the disks will melt, and then I am going to lick off the chocolate.” His hands slipped under the hem of the shirt to grip her hips.
For Kicks Page 14
