Unmistakably Us (Imagine Ink Book 5)

by Verlene Landon

  Michael backed him up again. It was not unpleasant, but it threw him a curve ball and he wasn’t ready to take a swing. That part, he didn’t like. But he had to admit, his brother had a way with John, and in a few moments, they were all seated back around the table. Tensions were off the charts, and if John clenched his jaw any harder, he would need some extensive dental work.

  This…Logan could work with. This was a situation he was pretty much an expert on. Of course, a twinge of guilt assaulted him right before he spoke; he would have to oversell his fondness for fucking January as something a bit more, judging by John’s reaction. He wouldn’t lie exactly, but instead of speaking of emotions, he’d speak of fucking, but conveniently leave the word out. Same with his interpretation. He would mentally add fucking to it and boom, not lying because he loved fucking her. That would be a better sell than an out and out lie.

  Before any shoulder-sized rockers showed up with wings or horns to tell him how wrong he was, Logan sent out a mental, preventative, shut-the-fuck-up.

  “Speak.” Wow, one word and clipped. John is really not himself today.

  “As you know, January and I have been seeing each other.” Naked. “Plain and simple, I like,” fucking, “her…a lot. I may or may not have alluded to that fact this morning, and she went fucking pale and practically raced away like her ass was on fire.”

  Logan paused because if felt a bit disingenuous to be thinking what he was. To reduce everything they shared down to fucking was just wrong. In his heart, he knew it was more than that; there was something there, but he was an emotional cripple. He couldn’t admit it yet, but he wanted to, and that was huge for him. God, how he wanted to.

  The fantasies he had entertained were probably ridiculous by anyone else’s standard, but for him, they were shiny and new. Completely foreign thoughts. He pictured them holding hands and going to the movies, then back somewhere to fuck. Eating dinner at a mediocre chain restaurant then somewhere to fuck. Hell, even doing the barbecues with the whole fucking clan and sneaking off to fuck.

  The only thing not vanilla about all those thoughts? The premium grade rope and intricate knots he wanted to try during the fucking part. The pinkening of her skin in the shape of the rope with a deeper shade under the knot. His dick got hard as fuck every time he pictured it, but January was different.

  If she wasn’t special on some level, Logan would have had her bound the first time they fucked. He did with everyone else, but for some reason, he mentioned it, dreamt of it even, but didn’t want their first times to be about the binding. Not for his sake, but for hers.

  When that thought struck him, that disingenuous feeling bloomed into a full-blown lying motherfucker feeling. Still, he didn’t have the capacity to process that yet. Baby steps.

  John took his pause as an interjection point. “Did she not say anything? Mention…anything at all?” Logan had noticed John’s look had changed from anger to almost pity, and when he said anything twice, alarms bells went off in Logan’s head. It was like he meant to say something else and corrected at the last second. Logan wanted answers and advice from the people who had both, so he pretended not to notice, but he did and would question a certain blonde at the earliest possible opportunity.

  “I was hoping you could shed some light for me. Maybe help me out a bit. I don’t fucking know. This is all new to me.”

  Logan dragged his hand through his hair in an attempt to clip his runaway tongue. He had said very little, but it was still more than he had intended to share. More than he had wanted to. Especially to John and Michael. Being on the defensive made him feel like he was back with his dad or uncle. He hated to feel that level of vulnerability or weakness ever again, but here he was, doing exactly that.

  “Fuck,” Logan cursed. Words were poised on his tongue ready to fall freely, but thank God, Michael saved him from suffering a nasty case of diarrhea of the mouth.

  “You sure she wasn’t just caught off guard? From the chattering from the Estrogen Brigade, you two haven’t been officially a thing but a short time. I mean, we all knew you’d end up together from the minute we saw you in the same room.”

  His charitable feelings toward Michael evaporated at his words. “Whoa there, we are not heading to Vegas and an Elvis officiated wedding, I was just saying it wouldn’t be so bad if we decided to only see each other for a while, see how it plays out and…”

  The grin that split John’s face gave Logan pause. He didn’t like it one bit. This did not bode well. The look that passed between those two didn’t help. Michael pulled out his phone and was furiously texting. “It’s obvious to us, you care about her at least a bit, so what are you willing to do to prove it?” Michael asked him while distracted by his phone dinging and typing a response.

  At John’s questioning look, Michael added, “That old man asked me something like that when I was clueless about Tori, and it helped me understand and accept it for what it was.”

  What the fuck? This was not helping. “Whoa…again. I told you it’s not like that. We’re just—”

  “Okay, try this. Would you be okay with her walking out of your life right now? Forever?”

  Logan hated that question John posed, but he hated his answer even more. Not that he planned to share it. Sadly, he didn’t feel it would matter one way or another; they had their answer. Michael’s phone dinged again. Every time it did, he furiously tapped a response and grinned.

  This conversation was all but over as far as he was concerned. They had nothing to offer that was applicable to his situation and besides, now both of their noses were in his business…and their phones.

  Wait a minute…a few times the dings and responses lined up.

  “Are you two fuckers texting each other rather than speaking aloud?”

  Michael had the sense to look scolded. He wasn’t, but at least he feigned it. John just looked him dead in the eye. No words, just a stare.

  Logan found it hard to look away from the older man’s measuring gaze. Michael shouted, “Francis. Damn it, why do we let her play again? Every time she joins the pool, no one but Dax stands a chance against her.”

  Color me stupid, Logan thought, but he hadn’t the first clue what Michael was going on about, and he didn’t really care right now either. All he cared about was solving this puzzle and finding a way to not lose his soul in the process.

  He rose from his chair, made his way to the aircraft, and started looking her over. “You coming over to my place tomorrow night?” John asked casually, like they hadn’t just had the weirdest and most uncomfortable conversation in the history of fucking talking.

  Of course he was going. January had lured a promise to show from him between bouts of fucking and sucking. It was an unofficial Reid family barbecue. Unofficial because of the location. Francis suggested it and everyone just blindly accepted. Apparently, it was a first, her co-hosting at someone else’s place, but according the masses, she always had a reason for the shit she did.

  “Yep, I’ll be there with January,” he answered. Under his breath he added, “Providing the invitation still stands.” Even if it didn’t, he would still go. He wasn’t exactly resolved to the fact he wanted more than just sex, but he was a glutton for punishment, apparently. Either way, her reaction to him would push him over the line in one way or another.

  Nine

  January slammed the door when she entered the house. The sound wasn’t as satisfying as she’d hoped it would be. She had already driven like a bat out of Hell on the back roads in an attempt to dispel some of her more aggressive emotions. When that failed to help, she aggressively scrubbed Ruger’s car clean, including a full-on assault-style vacuuming.

  Nothing worked, so she let out a frustrated howl as she headed down the hall. Augusta startled her when she came barreling out of her home gym. “Holy moly, I haven’t heard that since you were seven and I refused to give my Easy Bake oven to you so could take it apart and see how it worked.”

  Her sister’s words wer
e laced with humor, but her face had concern etched on it. January hating causing her sister strife, so she played to the humor.

  “It wasn’t like you were using it. You grew out of it long before that and it was just rotting in the closet.” January nodded matter-of-factly, dropped a kiss on Gus’ cheek, and turned toward her room.

  “As I recall, you stole it anyway and disassembled it while everyone slept. You might have gotten away with it if you hadn’t shoved all the pieces under your pink throw rug like no one could tell it was in the shape of a small mountain.” Her sister’s laugh rang down the hall, causing January to smile. It did her heart good to see her sister happy. These moments were so fleeting. Gus had become so serious since she arrived.

  That’s my fault, too. She knew it was eating her sister alive not to know what was going on with her. January just didn’t have the heart to tell her all her parents had done and how stupid she had been to fall for it.

  And, here it goes. “Do you want to talk about it? I’ve been told I’m a heck of a listener.”

  Maybe she could confide a little in Gus. It would help with her own problems but also give her sister some measure of peace perhaps.

  January turned back to Gus and approached with purpose. She embraced her with a ferocity she wasn’t expecting.

  “I know you are, and I love you like no other person on this planet. Right now, I need a shower and a nap, but later, while we prep food for the barbecue, we’ll have a good old-fashioned gab session. Okay?”

  When she pulled away, she knew her words had done what she intended. Her sister seemed relieved for the first time since January showed up on her doorstep. With a smile that wasn’t completely genuine, January entered her room.

  Looking at the bed opened up a vortex in her stomach. Not that Logan had ever been in her bed here, but she could imagine him sprawled out with the sheets wrapped around his legs—feet exposed and one tan hand flung across his face. He really was breathtaking when he slept.

  As she slid down the door, she pulled up the picture on the phone. Looking at him in that state of vulnerability made her ache anew. January suspected she was never that relaxed, even in sleep. “Fuck me with a saber, I love that asshole.” Admitting that aloud was not as freeing as one might think.

  Nothing could come of it, and if she continued spending time with him, it would only lead to destruction for both of them. She could never be with him…not for ten years, anyway. And for Logan, it could end all possibility of him letting someone in. Logan had inadvertently let her in, even if he was unaware of how deep he allowed her to infiltrate. She was positive it wasn’t by design and was by sheer accident, but for Logan, she knew it was a big fucking deal.

  If she didn’t put an end to this now, he would be broken beyond repair, and hadn’t he suffered enough already? His past, his brother, his…everything. She would not add to that. What was her broken heart compared to his broken soul? Her heart would heal, but she was afraid Logan might not come back from yet another rejection.

  “I have to find a method to back off in a way he doesn’t see it at his failure, but as mine. I also need to get him and Michael together.”

  They weren’t expected, but her tears began to fall. Making her way to the shower, she continued to cry. She wanted to tell her sister everything. She wanted to tell Stacy or Andrew, too. She knew they could get all those contracts with her parents completely decimated in court, but that would drag her sister through a part of her past she had broken free from.

  January had long since resolved the fact her family was bat-shit crazy, and while she didn’t relish the idea of everyone knowing that, she could handle it. She just wasn’t sure Gus was up for it. To have all her dirty laundry hung out in the streets for all to see. John had heard the highlights from his wife, but she was positive Gus had never even gone into great detail with him.

  It was the past. It was buried, and January would keep it that way, even if it cost her ten years to do so. “Gus protected me my whole life. I can protect her now.” Speaking into the water, her voice was distorted, but she preferred to blame it on the water rather than her tears.

  With that resolution, she exited the shower, dried, dressed, and stiffened her spine. January was a fixer, damn it. She would fix this, all of this. Help Logan get close to Michael while backing off from him romantically. All while making him think it was his idea. Maybe she would get clingy; he would surely back off then. Logan Chapman was not the type to let people get clingy.

  January would confide in Gus and make sure she didn’t see it as her fault for leaving her all those years ago. Well, confide a little; she would stop short before mentioning her parents and the contracts of Gus’ they hadn’t destroyed as promised and all that shit.

  “Ugh, this is a fool’s endeavor.” Once people started talking to Gus, they didn’t stop. They would tell her their deepest, darkest secrets. Not me, though; no spilling all. I’ve done it before, I can do it again, especially with the proper motivation.

  Instead of taking a power nap, she decided to start helping early. Surely, there were things to dice and marinate or…something. There was no way she could sleep right now.

  When she entered the kitchen, it was abandoned, but there were supplies piled up on the counter leaving barely any space to work. She recognized Erika’s lists beside each pile. Good, no guess-work.

  With her headphones in, January began following the recipes and lists. She was chopping this and rolling that, while bopping around the kitchen to the sounds of Winger and Thrice. Her taste in music was bipolar.

  She was so busy, she failed to notice Francis until she backed that thing up right into the older lady. January’s shocked scream echoed in her head, drowning out “Black Honey.” In that moment, January knew she was neither fight nor flight; she was scream bloody murder and close her eyes wishing the bad thing away.

  Francis reached up and plucked one of her ear buds out. “Good Lord, child, you could frighten the plates off an armadillo with that scream.” She placed her hand against her chest as she chastised January. “I knocked and yelled and stomped through the house like a bull elephant but you were so lost in your own world, you wouldn’t have heard if the tenth regiment itself came marching up on ya.”

  January noticed a change in her tone as she spoke. She went from shocked by her scream to plotting. She may not have extensive face-time with Francis, but she had enough to know this woman was about to pry. And if what everyone said were true, she’d pull everything out of her with a sweet smile and a soft-spoken word.

  Before she’d know it, she’d be pontificating the finer points of sucking Logan’s cock. Where would that get me? Another person in a long line who would say she was making a mistake by not staying and exploring her relationship with Logan and the rest of the Reids. One more person to tell her she was a major fucking moron for letting her parents force her into a marriage she didn’t want.

  Another soul who’d know the truth…she was a fucking wimp who was about to be married to a man she loathed. An idiot who signed contract after contract she had no business signing. Hell, ones her parents had no business drawing up in the first place. God, I’m fucking pathetic.

  “Sorry, Francis. I guess I had my music too loud, and I was in the zone.” January made a twirl and twerk to emphasize her point. Francis shocked her by joining in. If there was one thing she thought she’d never see or possibly could’ve lived her life without witnessing, it was a sixty-plus-year-old proper southern lady twerking in her sister’s kitchen.

  “Where’s Gus?” January asked. She hadn’t seen her since earlier, and there weren’t any sounds coming from the rest of the house. She figured Francis would know more than her.

  “Oh, she’s at the store grabbing a few things for me. It’s just us, dear.” Yay, not, January almost said aloud. Alone with Francis and her voodoo was not where she wanted to end up today.

  “Don’t look so worried. We’ll have a grand time. We can gab, and I can teach yo
u how to make my famous pecan pie. It’s the best in the Panhandle, if I do say so myself. Now, put that thing away and let’s interact like normal people.”

  “Oookay.” If Francis detected the hesitation in her zombie-like response, she didn’t react. She just started whistling a happy tune while preparing food. She appeared not to have a care in the world, but January knew better; she could see it in her eyes.

  It became apparent Francis didn’t pull any punches; she just came right to the point. “So, dear, what’s the deal with our sweet Logan?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question now, isn’t it? Wish I could answer it,” January mumbled under her breath. Not low enough, apparently.

  “Well, dear, you’re the only one who can. That’s why I asked you. Of course, Logan can answer it too, but from his perspective. Should I just ask him then and extrapolate yours from the available data he provides?”

  Francis smirked, actually smirked. That lady wasn’t unaware of her mojo; she seemed to embrace it.

  January cautiously inquired, “And what is it you do with all this intel you acquire?” She attempted to make it casual, but she knew she failed miserably when Francis stopped what she was doing and took her by the biceps, looking her right in the eyes.

  In the midst of all her inner turmoil, that amused January. She’d always regarded Francis at tiny but fierce, but she realized for the first time, they were the same height. Stacy and Gus were both vertically challenged too, but for some reason, she viewed Francis as larger somehow.

  “I don’t tell anyone anything they don’t need to know, hell, I barely tell them what they do. I find things tend to stick better when people come to it all by themselves.”

  “All by themselves, huh? You don’t lead them there or—”