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“You think he’ll like it?”
“I meant Logan. But sure, the book is a good choice too.”
“Oh,” I say. “But it’s not—he’s not …”
“No need to explain.” Emmy lowers her voice, sounding a little wistful, “But any man who takes his date to a bookstore and does all this is worth it.” She taps the book in front of me, now wrapped in a cranberry red toile print.
“I agree.”
“You agree about what?” Logan asks, walking up.
Emmy and I exchange a glance. “Nothing,” we say at the same time.
I snort when I realize he has a book tucked inside the front of his shirt. “Whatcha got in there?” I ask, pointing toward his stomach.
Logan angles his body away from me. “I should have chosen a better hiding spot. I forgot how you like to feel my abs.”
“Logan!” I protest, eyeing Emmy, who’s covering her mouth with her hand. “He’s making that sound all wrong. It was one time, and it was an accident.”
“Yes. Sheaccidentallygroped my abs. Sounds believable, doesn’t it?” he asks Emmy.
She holds up both hands, not bothering to hide her laughter now. “I’m not getting in the middle of this. I’m just here to wrap the books.”
“I’ll wait outside,” I say. “If you’re lucky.”
The cool night air does nothing to temper the flush in my cheeks. I’m not sure it’s possible, honestly. Not when Logan is continually making me laugh or making me feel special and wanted and … things I have no business feeling.
We really,reallyshould have stayed in my office and discussed the rules. Maybe added a few likeStop doing all the perfect things to make me fall more in love with you.
But Logan doesn’t so much as mention rules when he says goodnight outside our apartment doors. Instead, he gives me a hug that warms me down to my bones, and then says, “In the spirit of being up front with you, I’m not going to kiss you now.”
I hope he can’t feel the disappointment surging through me.
“But,” he continues, “not because I don’t want to. In fact, I want to very, very much.”
I want to tell him to shut up. I entertain the thought, briefly, of pulling back and shutting him up with a kiss.
Because there is no one I’ve ever wanted to kiss more, and no one who has ever made me feel so respected for my choices. Or made me want to choosehim.
But here I go again, being too chicken to say how I feel, too chicken to do what I’d like to do. Too chicken to ask if he really wants to, or if he’s just getting carried away, playing along as the perfect fake boyfriend.
Though we are totally alone in my hallway. No one to fake in front of right now.
Does that mean … he’snotfaking?
“Tonight isn’t our night, Pete. Not yet.”
Logan places a soft, lingering kiss on my forehead, and then waits for me to unlock my door and get safely inside. I don’t say a word. I just collapse on the couch, ignoring the low growl of the cat hiding underneath it.
Not yet, Logan said.Not yet.
And as I unwrap what Logan picked out and find the newest Brené Brown book, something I mentioned in passing the night of the gala, I really hope thenot yetwill turn into asoon.
CHAPTER22
Logan
I’m waitingin the hall when Parker opens the door the next morning. Because I’ve learned the past few mornings that she’s leaving early, perhaps in an attempt to avoid me.
