Page 26 of Meet Me in the Valley (Oakwood Valley #2)

Chapter Eighteen

TIA

Stunning. Captivating. Ethereal.

There aren’t enough adjectives in the English language to describe the beauty my sister holds.

Never once in twelve years did I try searching the internet for a picture of her—I knew she didn’t have any accounts on social media.

It was easier to keep the version of Nora I’ve always known for safekeeping inside my head and heart, never wanting to see or know another version of her.

It was easier to walk past the photos of her that line the walls of my parents’ house, frozen in a happy time, in a happy place with our happy family.

Our family is still so happy—despite Mom being sick and all.

But dinner last night with Mom and Dad proved we are still happy, even if we’re bleeding out.

It’s slow and painful, but we still smile.

We still laugh. Dad still dances with Mom even though I know she’s dying on the inside, and has been since the morning she discovered Nora left.

But nothing would prepare me for this—seeing my sister for the first time since I was fifteen years old. My feet anchor into the gaudy Vegas airport carpet. I can’t move, totally stunned still by Nora’s beauty. She’s right there, staring back at me.

In big, bold letters, it reads: “Vixen Unleashed at the Vermillion Sands Hotel.”

My hand trembles as I dig into the pocket of my sweatshirt, pulling out the crumpled paper with those same exact words. The ones Logan scribbled down for me.

It takes me back to that late afternoon, when he handed it over like it was nothing.

But to me, it was everything.

That scrap of paper became the most valuable thing I owned, not because of where it would lead, but because of what it meant. He’d gone out of his way to line this up. To open a door I didn’t even know I could knock on.

He believed in me.

He told me to do whatever it takes. To bring peace to my family. To finally bring peace to myself.

I’ve got a loose plan in place, starting with a ticket to see Nora’s show tonight.

My sister, the Vegas showgirl.

I have the urge to scream it out here in the middle of baggage claim so everyone can hear, my heart swelling with pride. That’s my big sister on a big ass poster!

And she’s the star of the show. Just like I knew she would be one day.

It’s not the American Ballet Company, but who gives a shit? She’s still dancing. She never stopped. And if that doesn’t heal a small part of my inner-child.

The “Vixen” herself, dressed in a two-piece dance costume with a black and red leather halter top adorned with gun-metal jewels that wrap around her neck like a choker.

The matching leather bottoms sit low on her waist, her long legs accentuated by the knee-high matching boots and tantalizing fishnets hugging her toned thighs.

Two male dancers with smoky eye makeup take up either side of her body, their hands clutching onto her thighs and stomach as her siren eyes pierce the camera.

One man stands behind her, his face almost buried in her neck while his fingers splay across her chest, right above the swell of her breasts.

It’s provocative, yet I can’t take my eyes off her. Her hair is sleek, jet black like mine, but slicked back into a high ponytail and creased down with so much gel it hurts my head just looking at it.

“Have you seen the show before?” an older woman with the coolest natural gray streak in her hair asks with a beaming smile.

“Never. This is actually my first time in Las Vegas.”

“Oh, my gosh. Well, you must see Vixen Unleashed while you’re here. The principal dancer,” she points at Nora, “is phenomenal. I’ve seen the show three times because of her.”

Tears form in an instant, a mixture of pride and heartache hitting me all at once in every direction.

I’ve always known Nora’s dancing was special. She worked harder than anyone else in her dance company, taking private lessons on days she should’ve been out with friends or practicing in front of her mirror—I remember the sound of feet thudding on the carpet from my room next door.

I turn my head, discreetly wiping my eyes when the lady cranes her head around to find my eyes.

So much for being discreet.

“Oh, honey. Are you alright?”

It’s a thoughtful question, one with good intentions. A stranger asking me if I’m alright when I’m blubbering in front of a Vegas show poster. She must think I’m high, but her smile is comforting—disarming.

Maybe it’s the realization I’m finally here on the same soil as Nora, but I find the courage to utter three words to a stranger who knows nothing about my life and the chaos within it.

It’s a breath I can finally exhale, letting go of some of the weight I’ve been carrying on my shoulders since the night she left me. It’s release.

“She’s my sister.”

I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for my ride share, tracking his little location dot moving in the opposite direction of where I’m standing. I’ve been standing here for twenty minutes watching him go in circles, cursing under my breath each time the arrival time pushes back by five minutes.

I look toward the sky, releasing a frustrated grunt when my finger punches the cancel ride button.

Screw that guy.

“You look like you could use a ride!” A comforting, warm voice shouts from the curb.

I turn my head, only to find a devastatingly handsome blond man with his crooked smile, staring me down in a pair of Wayfarer sunglasses with his arms crossed over his chest. Logan.

Clad in a simple gray heather tee, blue jeans, and that silver chain hanging off his neck, my mouth waters instantly despite the dryness of the Nevada desert.

Massive butterflies erupt in the pit of my stomach, and my feet decide on their own to run toward the heartening laugh that brings me home.

How is he here? Why is he here? The thoughts running through my mind move just as fast as my feet carrying me toward him. The instant I fly into his arms, gone is the storm cloud, and in its place is nothing but the warmth of the sun.

Finally.

“Miss me much?” Logan chuckles against my hair, his large hands holding me up by my thighs.

Luggage forgotten, all I want is to sink deeper into his hold and thank the universe he’s here.

I nuzzle my face into his skin, warm and smelling divine with that spicy cologne I love so much mixed with his natural scent.

My heart flips a million times when his hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, gently pressing a kiss into my temple as I hold back the prick of tears threatening to fall.

My legs wrap tighter around him, and I laugh into the collar of his shirt, unable to comprehend Logan actually being here. In Vegas. With me.

I pull my face back to look at him, expecting him to drop me to my feet, but he doesn’t.

His eyes sink deeper into mine, casually chewing a piece of spearmint gum as he smiles at me.

There’s something so sexy about the way his mouth moves.

I stare too long, licking my lips. My stomach clenches when I take in his handsome face.

The crooked grin, the freckle on his bottom lip, the small scar on the cleft of his chin from cutting it on a beer can from a failed shotgun our sophomore year.

I can’t help but smile at the memory, but more so at the beauty of his face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I breathe, flitting my gaze from his eyes to his mouth.

My feet hit the cement as he lets out an effortless chuckle. Logan wraps an arm around my shoulder, leading me back toward my luggage left on the curb.

“I didn’t want you to go through this weekend alone. I booked a flight after you texted me last night.”

“Yeah. You left me on read. Thanks for that,” I tease, poking his ribs. His hands find purchase at the small of my back, pulling me close enough for our hips to touch. It all happens so fast. I gasp at the intimate contact, biting down on my lip to hold back my shit-eating grin.

“Hmm,” he hums thoughtfully, bringing our foreheads together.

“How about I missed you so much I had to book a flight to see you right away? That my mind was moving a million miles an hour, going mad until I knew I’d be standing here in front of you, just so I could see the look on your face when I showed up.

Does all that make up for me leaving you on ‘read’? ”

I swear there was air in my lungs just a second ago. But then he opened his gorgeous mouth with all that effortless charm dripping off every word like sweet nectar—and suddenly I’m breathless, hanging on everything he says like some wide-eyed schoolgirl with a hopeless crush.

God, he’s too good at this.

I want to soak this moment into my skin and have it stay there like my summer tan in the winter months. I don’t want to forget he came here for me. Because he missed me. Because I needed him.

I deserve this.

“Fine. I forgive you,” I murmur. He rubs the tip of his nose against mine, a tiny gesture he’s never done before that has my head floating above the clouds.

He releases me too soon for my liking, grabbing my luggage as we walk toward what I’m assuming is his rental car.

Logan opens the trunk, tossing in my suitcase before opening the passenger door for me. I slide in, but before he shuts it, I grip the edge of the door, my body facing him. “Lo, I—I don’t know how to thank you for this. For being here with me. Just … thank you,” I say, barely above a whisper.

He says nothing, letting his actions speak as he leans in, pulling me into his comforting arms. My legs find their way around the back of his thighs as they hang out of the passenger door, and I hold him close, clutching to the back of his t-shirt like if I let go, he’d vanish.

The angel on my left shoulder whispers in my ear, telling me this moment is real. Logan is real, and his muscular arms tightening around my neck are a reminder that he’s real.

But the devil perched much too comfortably on my right shoulder fills my love-sick head with doubt, planting an evil seed deep into the crevices of my brain that not only is this temporary, but that he won’t change. He won’t change for me, no matter what’s shifting between us.

Logan must feel me tremble, cupping his hands around my face with worry in his eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere, T. You got that?”

I shove the devil off my shoulder, telling him to fuck right off. One look is all it takes for Logan to disarm me, melting away any uncertainty when it comes to us.

Us.

“I got it,” I answer him with ease and an open heart, willingly accepting the risks that lie in this new thing between us.

I’ll try. No regrets.

Logan softly knicks my chin with his knuckles, winking at me as he rounds the hood of the car and settles into the driver’s seat.

Not even two minutes into the drive to Vermillion Sands, my fingers itch to touch him. To grab his hands resting on the gearshift. To rake my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. To unbuckle my seatbelt and make myself at home on his lap.

Not only was Logan booking a last-minute flight to surprise me here one of the most romantic things anyone’s ever done for me, but it also awakened a wave of desire the size of a tsunami, and I feel every warm tingle at the apex of my thighs.

Who am I kidding? The tension between us has been brewing since long before we both would admit, and now it’s sitting in front of my face, waiting for one of us to take it further.

Thankfully, Logan’s too distracted bopping his head around to a Guns N’ Roses song blaring through the car speakers to notice my thighs rubbing together, clenching the ache that grows just by staring at him.

Now that he’s here in forced proximity, one question races through my mind is: Who’s going to cross the line first?

Me? Or him?

There’s one thing I know for sure. The boundaries we’ve always had set in place will be crossed, destroyed, and obliterated.

It’s only a matter of time. Inevitable.

And the clock is ticking.