Page 25

CHAPTER 25

ROSE

P art of me wonders if I’m hallucinating what I’m seeing, except the small contact of the back of my fingers against his rock solid stomach reminds me that no, this is very much real life.

Yet here he is, Logan Kim, the most intimidating guy in the Orlando Wild organization, whose plays make whole teams crumble irreparably, who is tatted up and a biker and stronger than an ox…

And there’s no way I can mistake the flash of fear that passes over his eyes.

He turns his back on me and I wonder if it’s to compose his expression, but he’s looking into a monitor by the door and there’s another sign of distress. His shoulders tense enough to wrinkle the back of his shirt. “There they are,” he whispers.

Not going to lie, this is starting to feel horror movie-ish.

Slowly, I bring my hands to cover my mouth, muffling the violent gasp that I can feel coming. Something clicks in my mind.

I’ve always thought that Logan is this guy sitting on a pedestal so high that it makes him untouchable, but I’m starting to think that’s always been an act. That he distanced himself from everyone else because of this—because he’s carrying something ugly inside of him all on his own and he doesn’t want to share it.

“Ready?” Logan asks, frowning at me when I don’t respond. “Hey, I didn’t mean to freak you out but we can still cancel all this?—”

“There’s no need?—”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?” he asks while the doorbell goes off again.

My eyes widen. “Like what?”

“Like I’m a wounded puppy?” His lip twists in disgust.

My chest squeezes hard enough to physically hurt, making me brace with the kitchen island behind me.

Crap, he’s right. I’m feeling the exact same tender thing that I would for an adorable cub with big round eyes that’s limping. Logan doesn’t need that. I have a feeling it’ll piss him off even more than he already seems.

Moreover, I don’t need that. I don’t need to feel squat for him, period .

“Sorry, ignore me.” I set my sparkling water down on the counter and pull down at my dress. “Let’s do this.”

Nodding, he waits until I’m next to him to open the front door.

Freja Lindberg and Taejoon Kim—aka TJ Kim—stand on the other side in the corridor, two small suitcases flanking them.

My mind, my senses, and my very being are working on overdrive. Freja and TJ are overwhelmingly beautiful by themselves, but together they have the same impossible effect of eating a candy that is so sweet you get an immediate cavity. I don’t know if it’s genetics or money, but they’re both over fifty and look way better than I do. Suddenly I feel like I’m too frumpy to even stand near them.

Yet, I plaster on my brightest smile. “Hi! I’m Rose, it’s so nice to meet you.” I stretch my hand first to Freja.

“I’m the one who is excited to finally meet the woman who captured Logan’s heart,” she says with a twinkling smile fit for fairies. Ignoring my hand, she goes in for an air kiss that brings a strong waft of sweet perfume.

In contrast, TJ does accept a handshake and he too is all smiles. “A girlfriend, how charming. You must be really special if Logan is willing to use that label.”

My expression doesn’t falter even though I’m super confused. I’m sure Logan has had girlfriends before. There have been news articles comparing them to me already, and a fan favorite is the one pitting his former model girlfriend and me. I don’t suffer from either extreme of the self esteem spectrum, but I can confirm that I have the kind of beauty that is okay for the pageant circuit, but not for high fashion or Hollywood—and the fans were very eloquent about it.

I turn slightly to Logan and freeze.

He looks like a beautiful statue, lips set firmly shut, devoid of any expression. If it wasn’t for his sharp eyes, I’d have believed that his mind packed up its bags and went on a long trip on his bike. What’s more, he’s not saying anything at all to his parents.

“Shall we?” I motion into the apartment.

“Ah, yes. I’d love to change my shoes before we head out for dinner,” Freja comments, wheeling her suitcase inside.

Logan and I step aside, taking opposite ends of the door as they pass. His mom pauses in the living room, zeroing in on the details I installed all around. The glance she tosses back over her shoulder is to assess me—not because she approves or rejects what she sees.

Meanwhile, her husband makes a direct line for the room I used to change my clothes and fix up my makeup, and I’m glad I had the presence of mind to bundle all that into my purse before stepping out.

“What did your dad mean?” I ask in a low voice once Logan and I are alone again.

He runs a hand through his damp hair, the sleeve of the shirt stretching so tight over his bulging bicep that I worry for the fabric. “I’ve never introduced them to a girlfriend before.”

“Why not?”

“They weren’t the one.” He shrugs.

“Well, neither am I, Logan.” I give him a pointed stare, just in case he has forgotten that this is all pretend.

He takes a deep breath and expels it before saying, “I know.” I try not to frown. He doesn’t have to agree to it quite so quick. But then he adds, “Which is why I freaked out when they insisted on meeting you. I think they know it’s not real and want to confirm it.”

“Hmm.” I fold my arms loosely as I ponder. “Maybe they’re worried that I’m a gold digger or something.”

“Or they want to use this against me somehow.”

I lift my eyes up sharply. “Would they?”

“Absolutely,” he responds with certainty in a sinister voice.

Then their door opens and out they come, and the only change is that Freja has discarded her silver sneakers for heels that would max out my credit card.

“Shall we?” TJ asks, placing his hand at the small of his wife’s back. She leans into his side and looks up at him adoringly.

So far, all I’ve found to fault them with his how saccharine they are. But Logan’s shoulders are still as tense as the wires that hold up the Golden Gate.

He leads the way for us out of the apartment and into the elevator, still not saying a word even though his parents engage in small talk. I try my best to follow the advice of not talking about myself—and definitely not about Logan—and turn into a veritable acrobat as I dodge their questions and turn them around.

I ask about their journey, which I discover was via private jet, and whether they were comfortable. I ask how long they’re staying and whether they have plans in town, and they surprise me by saying they intend to visit the parks the next few days. I’d have thought that would be beneath a supermodel who has traveled all over the world, and also beneath a man whose country is way more modern than anything we have to offer around here.

Logan is happy to fall back and just casually chime with directions whenever we have to turn or keep heading straight, and as his parents shift their conversation between them, I slow down to match my steps with my alleged boyfriend.

“You doing okay?” I whisper.

He blinks slowly and admits, “No. Waiting for the explosion any second.”

It can’t be that bad , I think glancing at his parents.

Or can it?

“So…” I trail off, trying to think of anything to distract him with. Something comes to mind as I watch them. “I think we need to make a bit more of an effort to look like a couple.”

Logan angles his face to look at me. “What do you mean?”

“Look at them.” I point at his parents with my lips. “They’re all handsy with each other. Won’t they think something’s up if we keep a six foot distance from each other all the time?”

His eyes narrow on his dad’s hand still at the small of his mom’s back. “They’re just putting on a show. That’s not real.”

“Neither are we.” I smile, nudging his ribs with my elbow.

Logan turns back to the front, and for a long moment I’m sure he’s going to ignore me. But then he mutters, “I told you, you’re the one making the calls here. Do what you want.”

That shouldn’t make me excited. My pulse shouldn’t spike this much—but it sure as hell does. If this whole Logan having a girlfriend thing is a big deal, I’m going to play the part of the most in love girlfriend there ever was.

We reach the restaurant, one of those fancy ones that are tucked away from the main roads downtown, and that I could never in a million years consider eating at. A host leads us to a table somewhere in the middle, and enough people to turn to watch our party that I realize this is when we need to start putting a show.

I sidle up to Logan’s side, molding myself with surprising ease to his hard body. He stops in mid step, glancing down at me with some surprise. I hold his eyes in mine as I circle my arm around his waist, and he inhales sharply.

“Now you do the same,” I command in a volume only for his ears.

He frowns. “But your damn back is basically naked.”

“Does a little skin intimidate the great Logan Kim?”

He rolls those clever eyes of his and next thing I know, his hand is on the small of my back and I’m the one who’s dying.

Maybe I shouldn’t have teased him. I certainly wasn’t prepared for the torrent of sensation expanding like wildfire through my skin, all the way down to my toes and up to my cheeks.

The thing is that Logan’s hand is huge—it spans the width of my waist easily. And it’s so hot that it feels like a brand, a surprisingly soft one for someone whose skin is calloused by a lifetime of playing sports.

Logan pulls my chair for me and a genuine smile blooms in my face. I don’t remember the last time a guy showed me this bit of consideration. Too bad that it’s just an act.

Following along with that train of thought, I wait for him to take the chair beside mine to scoot closer. This time he doesn’t wait for a cue and reaches his arm over to embrace me. I lean into his side and because my left arm is squished between us, I have no choice but to drop my hand on his thigh. It’s that or cut off my blood flow.

The muscles beneath my hand tense. I look at Logan to confirm if this is not okay—I’ll cut off blood flow for sure if that’s the case. But he’s already looking down at me and our noses brush. I gasp, all thought fleeing from my mind.

Worse, I completely stop breathing as he leans lower, his eyes shifting to my lips for a second. My heart hammers against my chest hard enough that I’m sure he can feel it against his ribs. But at the last second he veers away from my lips and whispers into my ear.

“Comfortable?”

Shutting my eyes tight, I breathe in the masculine pine scent that clings to him and swallow hard. “Oh, yes. Very.”

Oh. My. Word. My voice comes out all throaty and thick and it’s so clear that he’s affecting me that it’s not even funny.

“Me too,” he says before pulling away, forcing me to focus back on reality even though my head is swimming.

What completely snaps me out of the haze is the way that TJ and Freja look at us. There is no amusement in their expressions, or even curiosity, or secondhand embarrassment. I would think those would be normal reactions that parents would have about their adult kids being lovey dovey with their partners. But these two are neutral, except for their eyes.

Completely dead.

A chill crawls up my spine. Maybe Logan senses it, because he holds me slightly tighter.

Freja flips a switch. A smile comes to her and she leans over the table, speaking with a subtle lilting accent I assume comes from her Swedish mother tongue. “I am just dying to know how you made my son fall for you. He’s remarkably closed off, you see.”

“That’s true.” TJ bobs his head. “At times I wonder where he got it from when the rest of us are such extroverts.”

It’s subtle, to the point where I wouldn’t have noticed if Logan hadn’t warned me off them so intensely, but all they seem to do is throw digs at him. Reflexively, my hand tightens over his hard thigh.

“That’s just part of his charm,” I say easily, turning to him like he just plucked the moon from the sky and hung it over this restaurant table for me. “It’s what made me fall for him.”

Logan’s lips twitch but other than that, there’s no further reaction.

“So does that mean that you’re the one who seduced him?” Freja asks. This time she’s unable to disguise the needle thin sharpness from her voice.

Logan catches on right away and speaks for the first time. “There’s been no seducing here. I’m the one who’s been courting her.”

I press my lips tight. That’s too bold of a lie for my sake.

“Is that so?” Freja covers her mouth as she laughs.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” a waitress says with the utmost politeness, showing a wine bottle that she holds partially wrapped in white cloth. “May I offer you a sampling of today’s wine? It pairs deliciously with the house specialty.”

TJ diverts his attention to the waitress and asks her for details on the wine, but I can’t pay any attention when Freja is still looking at me like I’m the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.

They test the wine with great theater, swirling their cups expertly, smelling it, and discussing the richness of its body or whatever. Logan and I stay out of it because neither of us can drink—him because he has a game tomorrow, and me because I have to drive home once the night is over.

Unfortunately, once the nice wine lady leaves, TJ and Freja’s attention turns back to me.

I squirm until Logan’s hand suddenly starts rubbing my arm up and down, gently but with enough pressure to remind me he’s in on this act with me.

“It’s just so striking to see you two,” TJ says, eyes crinkling with a smile that actually doesn’t make his eyes shine. “I never thought I’d see the day when Logan truly cares for someone else. You must be one of a kind if he’s even sharing this special occasion with you.”

“Special occasion?” I ask politely.

“It’s his birthday.” TJ glances at his son.

Logan doesn’t react, which tells me nothing about whether this is true or not. But a girlfriend should know that, and I don’t appreciate how both of his parents watch me like hawks.

“Of course,” I say smoothly and snuggle even closer. “I have a big gift waiting for him after dinner.”

His father chuckles. “Lucky you, Logan. Seems like you found a good one.”

“Right?” Freja says her husband, lightly tapping his chest with the back of her hand. “It’s just a shame that this is happening now when Lewis was so excited to have you back with the Eagles.”

Logan’s body, normally hard like a rock, positively turns to steel after that. A muscle in his jaw ticks. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that whatever this is, it’s a touchy subject.

I run her words through my head again. Why would it be a shame for Logan to hypothetically be finding someone who loves him right now? Shouldn’t that make them feel happy for him, relieved that their son isn’t on his own anymore?

TJ asks me, “Perhaps you’d be willing to relocate with Logan to New York? I’m sure that would be a major step up for you too.”

My eye twitches slightly. Is he implying that my life in Orlando is subpar or something?

Or is he trying to make plans for me the way they seem to do for Logan?

I open my mouth and the latter cuts me off. “Rose, didn’t you say you wanted to use the restroom before dinner?”

I pinch his thigh for taking away my moment of glory, when I’d just been about to tell his parents where to shove it. His muscles jolt at the pain, but other than that he shows no reaction. Rather, he’s giving me a look that says run.

“Right, thanks for the reminder, babe.” I throw the last word in there for kicks and giggles. “If you’ll excuse me…”

It takes surprising effort to extricate myself from him and once I do, the air conditioning in the place feels so much colder. I grab the strap of my purse that I absentmindedly hung on the back of my chair when we arrived, and make my way around the tables and the decor.

The floor plan is divided by partial panels that provide a semblance of privacy between the tables, but still allow for visibility to the staff on their feet. I make my way to the back and stop, peering around the corner.

Freja isn’t following me, which is good. I hang my purse crossbody style and crouch lower so the panels hide me, retracing my way back to our table until I’m behind a potted plant, close enough that I can overhear.

“—Is this really what you came for, then?” Logan is saying in his deep, rumbly voice. “To convince me to go back to New York?”

“Of course not, we came to meet your new girlfriend,” Freja retorts.

“It just so happens that we also wanted to talk about this, but we knew you’d ignore us if we gave you a heads up,” TJ says.

“We wouldn’t have to go to such lengths if you just talked with us, Logan,” his mother chimes in perfect tune with his father.

My brow furrows. There’s a blatant lie lurking in their words. It makes me feel like Logan hit the nail right on the head—that their visit isn’t about me and I’m just the excuse. They’re too smooth at glazing over it, trying to make Logan feel foolish for suspecting them, while also blaming him for their own behavior.

“Stop gaslighting me,” Logan spits back. “If this is how the dinner is going to go, I’m going to take Rose and go somewhere else.”

“Logan, don’t be rude,” his mother admonishes. “It’s already enough that you lowered yourself to date someone like her, but to act so immature on top of that? We didn’t raise you that way.”

I freeze.

“Excuse me?” Logan’s voice turns into a dangerous rumble. “What the hell did you just say?”

“Language, young man.” His father’s turns more into the crack of a whip. “I won’t have you talking to us that way.”

“But it’s fine to imply that Rose is somehow beneath me?”

“Somehow?” Freja lets out an elegant little snort. “She is beneath us. You can just tell at a glance from how she?—”

Something inside of me snaps. Before I can stop myself, I rise to my feet and it puts me above the edge of the decoration barrier. All three turn to me like deer caught in the headlights.

Tilting my head at Freja, I ask, “Is it because of the color of my skin? Or my Latin American accent? Or let me guess, it’s because my dress cost fifty bucks, right?”

For the first time since our very brief acquaintance, Freja looks genuinely caught off guard. In contrast, TJ’s face hardens. “This is why. She’s been trying to manipulate you all night with every interaction, and now she’s openly trying to pit you against your own parents. Where are your standards, Logan?”

“My standards?” Calmly, Logan pushes away from his table and stands up. “I would choose Rose a million times over you.”

His father’s face, normally very fair for someone who spent a lifetime under the sun, suddenly turns crimson. “You would?—”

Raising his voice, Logan cuts him off right away. “I will leave your suitcases with the concierge. I’m sure you can find a room at any of the resorts.” Then he walks around to me. “Let’s go, Rose.”

Logan offers me his hand and I take it, lacing my fingers between his and not looking back for a second.