“Yeah, sure.” Logan’s tone didn’t give anything away.
“Molly,” the man said sternly. “The DJ is having some technical difficulty.”
With another roll of her eyes, she replied, “Coming, coming,” then she turned back. “You’d think my father would know what to do when the breaker blows.” With that, she hurried toward the older man and followed him through the door, which must have connected to the club-like side.
Logan swiveled on the stool and his knees touched mine. More sparks shot through me. I wondered if he felt them too. If he did, they must not have bothered him because he didn’t move away. “So I’ve got some bad news.”
I tilted my head. “Oh, no, what is it?”
“Don’t shoot the messenger, but there’s no spare tire and the vehicle is going to have to be towed to the station.”
“Can’t he just patch it?”
He shook his head. “No way. I saw it and it’s beyond repair.”
I looked at my watch and sighed. Michael probably already had Clementine home by now. Distressed, I said, “Are you sure there’s nothing they can do? I need to get to work tonight and it’s a little far to walk.”
Logan became very serious. “The tire isn’t repairable. He has to order a new one. Unfortunately the station doesn’t stock the one that fits your SUV. He says it will be ready tomorrow afternoon. It’s doubtful any garage around here stocks an expensive tire like that, but do you want to call your husband and see if he knows of someplace else you might want to try? Because there is no way you should walk anywhere this late.”
“My husband?” I laughed out loud.
Logan furrowed his brows. “Yeah, O’Shea.”
I laughed again. “Michael isn’t my husband.”
His eyes flickered in surprise. “Sorry, I just assumed.”
I swore I saw a shadow of doubt so I held my left hand out. “See, I’m not married. No ring.”
Strangely, relief seemed to cross his features.
I’d already checked out Logan’s hand back at Michael’s office and I hadn’t seen a ring, or a tan mark, or an indentation, so my assumption was the young McPherson wasn’t married either. But the lipstick-stained cup meant he might have a girlfriend.
“Is the little girl your daughter?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. Clementine is my niece. Michael is married to my sister.”
Is, was. I wasn’t really sure which, since she was MIA.
Logan didn’t look confused, but I still thought I should probably explain. “My sister has been in rehab for the past three months, and—”
Before I could finish the well-rehearsed lie Michael had told me to tell everyone, the door opened, and with the music on pause the mechanic’s voice bellowed through the bar, “O’Shea! Elizabeth O’Shea.”
“That’s me,” I said, this time to the man in the blue quilted jacket calling my sister’s name. I was Gabrielle Sterling. Long ago called Gabby, now called Elle. But after so many months, I was used to being called by my sister’s name. It was the name in which the car was registered and the name on the Triple A card. It was the name on the credit cards I used. It was the name associated with everything in her life. It was the name I never got a chance to call her.
Logan looked at me questioningly.
My plan was that I would use her credit cards and car only temporarily. Until my business got up and running. Unless she returned first, then I’d be more than happy to return them both. I didn’t like my situation, I didn’t like relying on Michael, but if I wanted to stay stationary and be near Clementine, I didn’t have much of a choice. I gave Logan a little shrug. “Michael’s letting me use her car until I get my own.” That was all he needed to know.
He said nothing.
I didn’t like how my statement sounded and felt very uncomfortable admitting it to him. “I should take care of this. Thank you for the drink,” I said, standing and reaching for my keys.
He placed them in my palm. “Tell him to take the car. I can drive you wherever you need to go.”
“No, that’s not necessary. I’ll just ride with him to the station and call for a rental. I’m sure they have a company they work with.”
Looking nervous, he shook his head. “Not a good idea.”
My eyes locked on his and all I could see were the brown flecks surrounding his green irises. They were mesmerizing. My tongue felt tied for a moment, but finally I spoke. “Why do you say that?”
“I’m not really sure—something about him seems off.”
“Oh, the alpha male thing,” I gave a huff of laughter. “I’ll be fine.”
Concerned, he said again, “I’d rather you didn’t ride with him.”