Page 2 of Meet Me in the Valley (Oakwood Valley #2)

Chapter One

TIA

NOW

A sudden noise halts my fist before it can make contact with the door, dull and muted.

Thud.

Pushing my ear to the wood, I strain to hear the noises coming from the other side.

God, I wish I hadn’t.

I roll my eyes and scoff. Steady thumps and some high-pitched moans filter through the wall that’s separating me from Logan and his newest conquest.

This isn’t my first rodeo. I’m well aware that I’m best friends with Austin’s most eligible bachelor—Logan Harper, resident playboy with the looks to match.

I see the appeal. He’s got this boyish crooked grin with masculine lines that sculpt his face.

His hair is the type of blonde you try to achieve in the hair salon, but can’t ever get right.

He stays mostly clean shaven—probably perfect for kissing.

Warm, espresso-colored eyes that pull you in without even trying.

He’s also got a great sense of humor, endless amounts of charm, and is smart as hell.

Perfect on paper, but. There’s always a but . I love my best friend, but he’s non-committal, always has a new plaything on his arm every week. He pours the milk into the bowl first, then the cereal. Who the fuck does that?

He leaves his dirty laundry right by the freaking basket when it takes two seconds to just put it in the damn thing rather than the floor.

He’s a serial flirt—which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it can be when you’ve slept with not one but two of the front desk receptionists at work.

And because we work at the same design firm, I get to witness our boss, Roy, wonder why his receptionists keep crying in the bathroom, then quitting a week later.

The turnover rate is kind of high and Logan might have something to do with that—breaking hearts and all.

But … I still love the guy. The most loyal friend I’ve had for the last decade of my life, and I wouldn’t change him for anything.

My phone pings with a flight check-in notification. Impatience floods me as I squeeze my eyes shut to drown out the sound of my rumbling stomach and the god-awful cat-in-heat-type wailing echoing off the too thin walls.

Judging by the volume of whoever he’s got in there—and the pace of the thuds—the show is almost over. It better be, or else I’m leaving his ass in Austin and celebrating Audrey and Donovan’s engagement without him.

I should be one sake shot down and one spicy tuna roll inhaled at this point.

Ugh. I’m so hungry. Hurry the hell up.

“Logan! Yes! Yes!!” the girl screams.

Five hard thuds later, they finally stop, and we’re approximately three minutes away from Logan guiding her out the door.

“Finally,” I mumble, mindlessly scrolling through social media as the sound of footsteps from inside his place gets closer.

The door opens with a whoosh, and the sound of her giggles coupled with Logan’s murmuring jolts my focus away from my phone.

“Call me when you get back from California? I can wait for you at your place when you get back. Naked,” she purrs, and I bite my lip to stifle the laugh that wants to come out.

How he does this so easily, I’ll never know.

Logan’s easy chuckle tumbles out of him, smooth like aged-whiskey. I’m reminded then— that’s how. He’s too good. Just his laugh alone can make a woman’s panties drop.

“I’ll call you, gorgeous,” Logan drawls.

He won’t.

I cringe when I hear sucking and slurping, scrunching my nose up because, no matter how many times I’ve been in this position over the years, it still makes me want to hurl.

Finally, the mystery girl comes out from the doorway, revealing herself.

Ah, receptionist number three. One more tally mark for Harper.

Our eyes lock, and I give her a sweet smile with a tiny finger wave. Her dirty blonde hair is mussed from sex, and her makeup is slightly smeared under the eyes where her mascara flakes.

She looks like she’s seen a ghost, and I almost feel bad. She’ll probably quit within the month.

“Hi Valerie,” I chirp.

Logan’s head cranes around the door frame, smiling like an idiot when he sees me. I glare at him before turning back to Valerie, giving her a soft pat on the shoulder.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell. Have a great weekend,” I reassure her, and the color returns to her face as she scurries down the hall with her heels dangling from her hands.

If Roy found out the reason all his receptionists keep quitting is because Logan can’t keep it in his goddamn pants, he’d shit a brick.

As soon as she’s out of sight, I slap both of my hands against his naked chest, shoving my way through his door.

“Ugh! Ew! You’re so sweaty!” I stalk to his kitchen sink and wash my hands with a dramatic amount of soap. Logan shuts the door behind him and laughs with his whole body, his smile stretching all the way across his face where the lines around his mouth crease and his eyes crinkle.

It sucks how contagious it is when I’m absolutely disgusted by him right now. I’m laughing too before I can stop myself.

At least he has his jeans on, although the fly is unbuttoned and his zipper is all the way down. I avert my eyes, throwing a dish towel at him.

“I’m sorry, T. Valerie had been teasing me for weeks. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Okay, but like, do you have to hook up with the girls from work? You’re getting sloppy with age.

This isn’t college anymore. These girls want to have a career, and you’re corrupting their ambition with your dick.

” I give him a deadpan stare when I notice his place is more messy than usual.

A few dishes pile in the sink. A box of cereal left out.

Blueprints strewn across his coffee table.

“Jesus, Lo. You could keep this place tidy, you know,” I huff, moving across his condo like a little worker bee, putting food back in his pantry and organizing the mess of work sketches he’s left scattered across the living room.

Logan shrugs, striding back to his room without a care as he shouts over his shoulder, “That’s why I have you! You keep me in line!”

I grumble under my breath, cringing when I find a pair of purple lace panties between his couch cushions.

“Oh, God.” Gagging, I grab a pair of tongs from the kitchen so I don’t have to touch them, gripping the barely-there lace. I stand in Logan’s bedroom doorway, pinching my nose and holding out the panties in front of me.

He throws on a t-shirt, and I can’t help but stare a little longer at the way his abs ripple and his biceps flex as he fits it over his head. He’s tan—golden—with a smattering of light blonde hair across his chest and a darker shade of hair that leads down past the waistband of his jeans.

A strange twinge twists inside my stomach. I push it away quickly, because what the fuck?

He catches me looking with a sly grin and an upturned eyebrow.

“Shut up.”

His hands come up in defense. “I didn’t say anything!” he chokes out with a laugh.

I thrust the panties in front of me, shaking it in his face. He grabs them from the tongs, examining them while stretching and pulling the fabric as if he’s trying to remember who they belong to.

“Valerie,” we say at the same time, and we stare at each other for all of five seconds until we are cracking up.

“Okay, enough wasting time. I’m fucking hungry, and you had me waiting outside like a stray dog while you were corrupting yet another receptionist.”

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” he tells me, with those big brown puppy eyes.

“Mhmm. Sure ,” I drawl sarcastically. “You’re buying.”

“Of course. That’s no question,” he croons, pinching the apple of my cheek. “You drive here?”

I shake my head. “I walked from the office. It’s nice out today.”

Logan leads me out of his room toward his front door, jingling the keys to his bike in front of my face. My eyes light up, and his beaming smile warms my skin.

My body zings with excitement as he hands me a helmet. I love riding on the back of his bike. The weather is perfect for it today, and I’m secretly hoping we go down some back roads after lunch so we can push the speed limit. He knows I love going fast.

Once we’re in the parking garage of his condo, I’m practically sprinting toward his bike.

“Easy, killer,” he teases, grabbing the helmet out of my hands, placing it snug on my head.

He closes my visor, patting the top of my helmet twice, then we hop on.

My front to his back. Logan revs up the engine, and it comes to life with a roar.

Electricity hums through me, and I squeeze tighter around his waist, nearly bouncing behind him with anticipation.

With some finagling of our helmets, a beep comes through, signaling that Bluetooth is connected.

“Can you hear me?” Logan says, turning his head to face me.

“Loud and clear, Captain.” I give him a small salute, then slap the side of his helmet, which causes him to chuckle.

“Song requests?” he asks, swiping through his playlists on his phone.

“Hmm…I’m in the mood for Blink.”

“Yeah? That’s a vibe.”

I watch him type “blink-182” into the search bar and play their Essentials playlist. “Feeling This” comes on through our ears as we peel out of his parking garage into the gorgeous day that awaits us. Logan bobs his head to the beat as I drum my fingers on his stomach.

We’re caught at a red light, and I smirk at hearing Logan singing along to the music. I’m lost in the song when I almost miss it.

I squint through my visor, noticing a faint mark on the side of Logan’s neck.

Lipstick.

My stomach plummets for a split second, like the feeling you get right before you hit the first drop of a rollercoaster. The imprint of a faint kiss mark taunts me as flashes of Valerie’s moans play in my head louder than the music that Logan is still jamming out to.

There’s an ache in my chest imagining what Logan did to cause those noises coming from her, and a weird sort of possessiveness washes over me so fast it rolls around in my belly, making me queasy. Uneasy.

Without even thinking, I reach out with my thumb to the mark on his neck, scrubbing it back and forth to erase it. Startled, Logan smacks my hand on impulse.

“Ah! What is it?” he yelps in a panic. I snort at his dramatics, but then a ripple of shame covers me like a sheet in an instant. Confused by my body’s reaction, I ramble to mask my wariness.

“Sorry. I thought I saw a bug or something. It’s gone.”

But it’s not gone. If anything, it’s bolder now, as if she freshly placed her kiss right there. I know that’s not the case, though. I’m seeing things. The smudged cherry red stain stares back at me—taunting me. Confusing me.

What if I just pressed my lips there to erase … No. Stop it, Tia.

What. The. Hell?