Maybe she’d get lucky.
Or maybe Karma would fuck her over once more, just because.
With her head down, her attention focused one-hundred percent on her task, she didn’t realize anyone was standing in front of her until it was too late.
“Nothing like getting stuck in an airport on your birthday, huh?”
The low, smooth rumble of his voice still managed to send chills down her spine, firing all the synapses in her body at once. She remembered that voice. How it washed over her like the rain when he was breathless and happy. How it crashed into her like a tidal wave when he was angry and frustrated. How it settled right into her bones when he whispered into her ear while aroused and overcome with need.
She knew what she’d find before she even lifted her head. Even so, it didn’t prepare her for coming face to face with him after nearly two years. He was taller than she remembered...broader too. He filled out his thick wool coat as though he was the one constructing buildings instead of overseeing that they’d get done. A scarf the same pale green as his eyes hung from his neck. The perpetual shadow of scruff covered a jaw she knew to be sharp and defined, and she focused immediately on the full lips nestled amidst it all. They weren’t pressed into the flat line hers were, but neither were they tipped at the corners. He’d let his dark hair grow out longer than it had ever been when they’d been together, and she hated herself for remembering how silky it had felt between her fingers. When she’d cataloged every feature, darted her eyes to every point but the one she absolutely didn’t want to look at, she finally admitted defeat and lifted her gaze.
His sea-glass eyes were boring into hers, the same heavy, intense stare she’d noticed when they’d met more than four years ago. And when she looked into them now, it was like no time had passed. Like they hadn’t broken an engagement, hadn’t been separated for two years, hadn’t lived through the heartache of ending the best relationship either of them had ever had.
Except all those things were true. The painful beat of her heart made that perfectly clear.
Swallowing, she straightened, rolling her shoulders back and tipping her chin up. Even though she didn’t feel composed didn’t mean she couldn’t fake it. “Hello, Logan.”
Chapter Two
If he never had to experience this shit-show of a day again, Logan would die a content man. Frantic calls at 6 a.m. from the project manager at a new build in New Mexico weren’t his favorite way to wake up. Neither was blowing way too much damn money on a last minute plane ticket there to deal with the mess the people he’d put in charge were too incompetent to handle. Add in half a day waiting in an airport for a flight that never actually got off the ground, then top all that off with dropping Sophie off with her mom that morning, and this day could go fuck itself.
After hanging up with the project manager in New Mexico, Logan strode with purpose down the terminal, rolling his small carry-on behind him. If he didn’t get out of here soon, the roads were going to be nearly impossible to navigate, and he could think of better things than getting stuck in O’Hare.
Preoccupied with a text Sophie had sent to him from her mom’s phone, he almost passed right by without noticing the woman propped against the wall. Though that would’ve been nearly impossible. She was the kind of classic beauty that always garnered attention, but combine all that with the fire-engine red coat she wore, and she was unavoidable. He’d think she wanted the attention if he didn’t know better. But he did. He knew her better than almost anyone, and she hated attention nearly as much as she hated mushrooms. The fact that he remembered such a trivial detail only made the pang in his gut more pronounced.
He stopped in the middle of the concourse, unconcerned with the grumbles of the fellow travelers scrambling to detour around him. Nearly still, she leaned against the wall, her head ducked to her phone, completely oblivious to the bustling, panicked people surrounding her. She was still the breathtaking beauty he remembered. Pale white skin that he’d once spent hours ...days worshiping. Pink cheeks showing her frustration, though he’d much preferred when he’d been the cause of that flush for reasons altogether different. Long, dark hair that used to tumble around him in waves, cocooning them while he’d been inside her. And her mouth. Jesus. If he didn’t stop thinking about what she’d done with those full, red lips, he was going to have a very uncomfortable situation on his hands.
He wasn’t planning on saying anything to get her attention. He shouldn’t say anything. But then his mouth opened and words tumbled out without his approval.
And, Jesus Christ, this girl still had the power to wreck him if simply his name rolling off her lips sent a jolt of possession straight through him. She didn’t sound happy to see him, but neither did she sound as enraged as she had the last time they’d spoken.
“Hi, Claire.”
He stepped closer to her, dodging the frustrated travelers that scrambled around them. When he got near enough, he could read her clearly, the hesitation in those wide blue eyes palpable, and he didn’t know how to make it any easier—for her or for himself. It wasn’t like he knew the protocol for interacting with your ex-fiancée, four years after a whirlwind love affair began...two years after not having spoken a single word to each other. A handshake seemed laughable, especially considering they’d touched, kissed...licked every inch of the other’s body.
And he needed to stop that train of thought right fucking now. But then she’d always had that power over him, power she hadn’t even been aware of.
He leaned toward her as she pushed off from the wall, both of them meeting in an awkward embrace. Clumsy as it was, she still fit perfectly in the cradle of his arms. Relishing the feel of her body pressed against his, he breathed in the familiar warm vanilla scent of her mixed with something else that was uniquely Claire.
After too brief a moment, she pulled away, averting her eyes and leaning against the wall. She tipped her head toward the suitcase situated at his feet. “Were you headed somewhere too?”
She wanted to do small talk when all he could think about was the feel of her against him? The chasm of difference between their thoughts would be laughable if it wasn’t so pathetic. “Yeah. Problem on a job site in New Mexico.” He hated the way she tensed at the mention of work. Though he couldn’t really blame her, considering the circumstances surrounding their split. “What about you? Are you...did you move back?”
He couldn’t name the emotion that flooded his body at the thought of her back in his hometown. And he didn’t have time to contemplate it, either, before she corrected him.
With an emphatic shake of her head, she said, “No. Was just checking up on the restaurant.”
“Oh. Were you on your way to San Diego then?”
“I was headed to Denver, actually. To visit Bryan, Sadie, and the boys.”
He nodded. “They must be getting big now... What are they, three?”
“Four.”
“Wow.”
He wanted to shoot himself in the face with how painful this entire interaction was. How had things changed so much that he couldn’t hold a five minute conversation with the same woman he’d stayed up until 5 a.m. talking to?
“So what’d they tell you?” He tipped his head in the direction of the nearest ticket counter.
“Probably the same thing they told you. Flight’s canceled, they don’t know anything, get lost.”
He chuckled and leaned against the wall next to her. “You looking for a hotel, then?”
She blew out a deep breath, a frown marring her face as she glanced at the phone clutched in her hand. “Trying to, anyway. With Christmas and now the storm, I’m not sure how much luck I’ll have. I’ll probably end up at a motel in Englewood.”
The thought of her at any hellhole in that area made his skin crawl. He wanted to tell her she abso-fucking-lutely wasn’t doing that, but it w
asn’t his place. She wasn’t his anymore, wasn’t his to worry about or care for or concern himself with. Even knowing that, he couldn’t stop the suggestion from bursting forth. “You can stay with me.”
She snapped her head up to him, those gorgeous, clear blue eyes wide, her mouth parted in surprise. “What—I don’t think...” She shook her head, dropping her gaze before looking up to him again. “I don’t know if that’d be a good idea.”
“And you staying in Englewood is? Come on, Claire. I don’t need you getting caught in the crossfire of a drive-by on my conscience. It’s not like I’m asking you to come to my bed with me.”
Clearly flustered, she broke in, “That’s not what I—”
He continued on as if she hadn’t spoken, because if he didn’t, he’d think about her in his bed. “I’m just offering you a free place to stay while you wait out the storm. Assuming you don’t mind princess sheets, of course.” Bending slightly at the knees, he caught her eyes. And maybe it wasn’t fair that he pulled out the smile that used to allow him to get away with anything where she was concerned, but tough times called for tough measures. “Plus, it’s your birthday. And Christmas is tomorrow. Sophie’s staying with Brooke and Dan. If you come home with me, you’ll save me from being a sack of miserable shit on the couch all day while I mope.”
“You, miserable? Moping? Because you had the day open? Surely you have some work that could be done.”
Even though he deserved the bite her words held, he couldn’t help but cringe. Quietly, he said, “I promise, no working.” And because he knew she had every right to throw back in his face the last time he’d promised her something and had to go back on it, he pushed off from the wall before she could bring it up. “Come on. We need to hurry if we want to get out of here and to my place in this storm.”
Chapter Three
This was a bad idea.
That was the only thought that had gone through Claire’s head since Logan had offered his place to stay. The nagging in her gut didn’t abate as he slowly navigated the snow-covered streets, nor did it in the awkward and quiet elevator ride up to his condo, and certainly not when she stepped over the threshold into a place that held way too much history.
A place that used to be hers too.
It still smelled the same, and the thought knocked her off balance. How could the scent of something conjure up so many memories? And why did it fuck with her that the majority of the memories she had here had all been good? It was easier on her heart, on her mind, when she remembered the bad. Remembered the fighting and the frustration and feeling like she rated behind not only his daughter, which she totally understood, but also behind his job, which she totally did not.
She’d known going into a relationship with Logan she’d never be first in his life, and she’d been fine with that. She could live with being second, especially after meeting and falling in love with Sophie as quickly as she’d fallen in love with Logan. But it’d seemed like she’d kept getting knocked down on the totem pole of what had been important in his life. And the one time she’d ranked someone else above him, had chosen spending her grandmother’s last months with her instead of with Logan, two-thousand miles away from where she was needed, he’d let her down. And it stung that it had been at a time she’d needed him more than ever.
Logan’s drive and tenacity were admirable qualities, and things she’d once been drawn to. Especially when she’d found out all the struggles he’d gone through in his youth with only a single mother working two jobs to keep them barely treading water. He had more determination than anyone she’d ever met, and the fact that he built his company from the ground up to something that was known around the country proved that. Even still, understanding it and accepting it as gospel was something else entirely.
Being here again...seeing him, interacting with him was so not something she was prepared for. Though, honestly, if she’d had an entire year to prepare, she didn’t think it’d have mattered.
As she looked around the space she remembered to be immaculate and put together, she was...shocked. Where order and meticulousness had once reigned, it seemed life had taken their place. Drawings of flowers and trees and a dad with his little girl were laminated and made into placemats to cover the rich mahogany table in the dining room. Dozens of children’s books were prominently displayed in bookcases next to the true-crime books she knew Logan preferred. A bright purple and lime green patterned fleece throw was over the arm of the purposefully distressed leather couch that took up the majority of the living room. A game console, Disney movies, a Barbie here and a doll there—everywhere she looked, it was clear Sophie had put her stamp on the place. Of course, when they’d started dating, Logan had had joint custody of Sophie with his ex-girlfriend, so she’d spent half her time in her dad’s home, but it had never looked like a child lived there. All of her toys had been contained to her room, because Logan thrived on order...control.
What had changed?
“I like what you’ve done to the place.”
He offered her a grin, the set of his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’ll let Sophie know you think so. She’s pretty proud of her contributions.”
“She should be.”
Logan came toward her, leaning down to reach for the carry-on by her feet. She closed her eyes when his arm brushed against her side as he grabbed the handle. When he was that close, she couldn’t think. He was overpowering her senses, filling her with memories of hugs and innocent touches and, God, the not-so-innocent ones she’d do well to forget.
“I’ll bring this into Sophie’s room for you. Will that be okay?”
“Of course.” Swallowing down the nerves that were running rampant in her system, she added, “Thank you for offering me a place to stay, Logan. I know you didn’t have to...”
The end of what she could’ve said hung in the air between them—because of the angry things I said, because of our last fight, because I’m not yours anymore. And by the clench of his jaw, the spark of sadness in his eyes, she knew he heard them all the same.
Offering a simple nod, he took off down the hallway to the second door on the right, the room directly next to Logan’s bedroom. The room she’d helped decorate when Sophie had grown out of her toddler bed and graduated into a big girl room. For a moment, she allowed herself to get lost in the memory of the weekend she and Logan had spent readying it as a surprise for Sophie. The frustrated curses that had spewed from Logan’s lips when he’d tried to put together the new bed. How Claire had laughed at him, teasing him about an architectural engineer not being able to put together a child’s bed, and how he’d retaliated by pulling her down to the floor and making her yelp in surprise, then moan in ecstasy when he hadn’t stopped until he’d had his hand inside her panties. Still half-clothed, she’d ridden him right there on the floor, surrounded by paint cans and scattered pieces of wood and princess paraphernalia.
She absolutely could not think about things like that. Not now, not when she was spending the next day—or longer, depending on the storm—in close proximity to the one man who had always made her crazy with want.
By the time he came back down the hallway, she’d calmed her racing heart and hoped her face had resumed its normal shade of pale white instead of the cherry red flush she usually sported when she was aroused.
“How about we go out and make something out of this shitty birthday?”
She shot him a look, then pointedly moved her attention to the window, and he followed her gaze. It was like a blanket of thick white fleece had settled over the city, and the snow was still coming down steadily. “Uh, there’s a blizzard outside. Where exactly are we going to go?”
He paused for only a split second, then shrugged. “I thought we could walk to Romano’s.”
She tried to school her expression, attempting to hide the fact that her breath caught at the same time he
r heart tripped over itself and started beating double-time.
If his apartment held too many memories, she certainly wouldn’t get a reprieve from them at Romano’s. It’d been where they’d had their first date. Where they’d eaten dozens of times during their relationship. And it had been where they’d been headed the night Logan had proposed, only they hadn’t quite made it that far.
It had been the first snowfall of the year, and as soon as they’d stepped outside of his building, she’d stood frozen, staring in awe at the flakes tumbling around her. Even though it had been her second winter in Chicago, she still hadn’t gotten used to it. Growing up on the beach in San Diego, she’d never even seen snow before coming to Chicago. As she’d been mesmerized by the falling white flakes, Logan had dropped to his knee. When she’d glanced down, he’d been there, looking up at her with his bottomless eyes, telling her, simply, he wanted to see that happiness on her face every day for the rest of his life.
Things hadn’t quite turned out how they’d planned.
Avoiding his stare, she looked out the window to buy herself some time. God, being here was like excavating the memories she’d worked hard to leave buried. She didn’t want him to know how much his suggestion affected her. If she wanted to dwell on his motivations, she could examine all the reasons he’d chosen that particular place out of the thousands of possibilities in the city. But the logical side of her brain knew why—it was less than half a block away, and they could easily walk to it, even in the storm.
He must’ve seen the hesitance in her eyes, because he cut in before she could voice her refusal. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”
She slid him an irritated look. “You’ve been doing that a lot tonight. I see some things haven’t changed.” Though, truth be told, him taking charge of a situation was one of the things she’d always found incredibly attractive about him. There was just something about having the pressure of banal decision-making lifted from her shoulders, especially when she did nothing but make decisions nine hours a day, every day, while being a project manager.
Season of Second Chances Page 2
