I pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans and found an off-white flouncy blouse to wear under my black leather jacket. I went with chunky ankle boots and quickly blew my hair dry to calm some of the wildness. I coated my lashes with mascara and dabbed on some clear lip gloss.
When I looked at myself in the mirror, I envisioned Logan putting his arms around me. Running his fingers through my hair. Kissing my glossy lips. Tucking his hands under the flare of my top.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Stop it,” I chastised myself.
And besides, I had bigger issues to think about, such as who slashed my tire and broke my window, and who had been lurking around my house last night.
With that in mind, I stepped into my closet and pulled a tote down from the shelf and then threw a few things into it. I was going to take Logan’s advice and stay at Michael’s, at least for the night.
Thirty minutes had elapsed when I started down the stairs.
Not bad.
Logan was fully dressed and on his phone, quietly talking over near the door that led to the back. As soon as he saw me, he hung up. I knew better than to ask.
My .22 was on the counter. He opened the chamber to check if it was loaded. I already knew it was.
My larger purse was beside me and I reached to take the gun.
That was not what he had in mind. Instead, he emptied the chamber. “Let me show you.”
“Logan, I know how—” I started to protest, but he wasn’t listening.
His long, lean body was behind me in a matter of moments and his hands were on mine, raising them. “Aim and shoot.” He squeezed my finger against the trigger, firing off dry rounds. “You don’t hesitate. You understand?”
I nodded and concentrated on the weapon in my hand, not the powerhouse of a man practically holding me.
His strong body pressed to mine. His competent hands were showing me how to take care of myself. He didn’t appear to be holding anything back—he knew what he was doing to me, to my body. The thought snapped me out of my haze. “Logan, I know how to use a gun.”
Moving to the side, he reloaded it. “I’m sure you do. It’s just that last night, you were aiming that gun at me but I knew you had no intention of pulling the trigger.” He set the gun on the counter and stepped into me. “If I were anyone else, you’d be dead.”
I bit my lip. “I . . . I wasn’t ever going to shoot you.”
“Why?” He didn’t even blink.
Because I want you madly. Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because there’s just something about you. I couldn’t say any of those things. Blinking those thoughts away, I said, “Because I knew you weren’t here to hurt me.”
He stepped even closer. “No, you didn’t.”
All I could do was shake my head. I did know it. I could feel it.
“Listen, if you don’t plan to pull the trigger, then you never aim. If you think even for a minute anyone is a threat to you, I want you to shoot first and think later. This isn’t a game. These people don’t dick around. Do you hear me?”
I nodded. I was a little freaked out, but I wasn’t going to admit to that. I wasn’t sure just how much danger I was in. Maybe he was a little paranoid. Either way, I needed to stay strong. “Yes.”
His voice softened and his demeanor changed. “I don’t mean to scare you, but these guys are professionals. They creep around in the dark, lurk around corners, hide in alleys. Don’t go anywhere alone.”
“Who are these people? Are they going to come into my store?”
He shook his head. “They won’t do anything out in the open and they may not even be after you.”
“Then why are you telling me these things?”
“I just want you to stay safe. Do you understand? Stay safe.”
“I understand,” I said, sounding a little breathy.
His hands gripped my hips and he pulled me to him.
I went more than willingly.
His lips hovered over mine. “You have to stay safe,” he repeated.
Just then my cell phone rang. I jerked back and reached for it. It was Peyton.
“I’m on my way,” I answered.
“I can’t believe you’re not here yet. Did you hook up with Mr. Big Dick?”
“Peyton!” I admonished. “I’m just running a bit behind. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Okay, but when you get here I want all the details.”
“’Bye,” I said, trying not to smile and wishing there were details to spill.
He took my phone and hit some buttons. “Here’s my number. Call me if you need anything. If you can’t reach me, I’m at the Four Seasons. I’ll leave your name at the desk.”
I took the phone back. As soon as I shoved it into my bigger purse, he handed me my gun. “This too.”
I put that in my purse as well, and grabbed the smaller purse. I’d switch everything else later. “I’m ready.”
He nodded toward the front door and grinned at me. “Come on, then, let’s get you to work.”
I should have been scared.
And I was.
I should have been worrying about why all of this was happening.
And I was.
But right now I just wanted to bask in how much that grin melted me.
LOGAN
The clock was ticking.