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“I’ll take those,” Mia says, plucking them from my hand. She heads to the kitchen and, not finding a vase because I don't own any, she sticks the bouquet into a glass pitcher I sometimes use to make sun tea.
My eyes find Logan’s again, and his expression is no less intense but a little softer now. The small smile he gives me loosens up my nerves just a bit.
But would it kill the man to tell me I look beautiful? Isn’t that just plain good manners?
Unless he doesn’t think I look beautiful. Unless he hates the dress and regrets getting dragged into this event. Unless—
“Stop with the what ifs,” Mia whispers in my ear. Louder, she says, “Stand together. I need to take your picture.”
“Mia,” I protest, but she gives me a shove toward Logan.
“Not optional.We are taking pictures.”
I doubt Logan wants to pose for pictures like we’re going to prom, but I’m also secretly grateful for Mia’s bossiness. Because even if this night is a disaster and I never stop being nervous and Logan wants to leave early and regrets coming, I’ll at least have photos to help me relive this moment for years to come.
I stand next to Logan, leaving a few inches between us. I clasp my hands in front of me and know I’m standing as stiff as a department store mannequin. Mia glares over her phone at me, but before she can say anything, a strong hand wraps around my torso.
Logan tugs me to his side, that big hand fitting perfectly in the curve of my waist. The scent of him overwhelms me, and I swear my vision goes a little fuzzy. I probably should have eaten beforehand. This is far too much Logan on an empty stomach.
“That’s better,” Mia says, snapping a few pictures.
“It’s one of the rules,” Logan says in a low voice. “Putting an arm around your waist.”
“Yes, it is.” Those rules are both going to save me and be the death of me.
I try to remember how to smile, but I’m too aware of Logan’s arm around me, his fingertips moving lightly over the soft material of my dress.
When he leans close, his lips brushing my ear, my breath hitches.
“I’m glad you wore the pink,” he murmurs, and I don’t miss Mia’s smug smile as she continues taking pictures.
My heart vibrates like the plucked string of an instrument. It’s not quite him saying I’m beautiful, but it’ssomething. “Yeah?”
“But you need to stop looking so miserable or I’ll have no choice but to take it personally.”
A laugh bursts out of me, and Logan’s arm tightens around my waist. “That’s better,” he says. “Can’t have my Parker unhappy.”
MyParker?
He may not have told me I look beautiful, but this is somehow ten million times better.
CHAPTER13
Logan
I spendthe entire drive to the hotel where the gala will be held drowning in regret.
Not because I said yes to going with Parker—though I suspect that will come later—but because I didn’t tell her how beautiful she looks. I’m not sure beautiful is the right word, and part of my problem was just that. I had no words when she opened the door. None.
I could only stare. Parker is the perfect combination of girl-next-door and dead sexy. She is too beautiful for words. At least, not any words I know. Even if I had a stellar vocabulary, the sight of her made me lose even the most basic single syllables.
And then I felt weird complimenting her. I don’t want her to think she only looks beautiful when dressed up or something. Because the truth is, Parker looks every bit as beautiful walking around the Summit in her work clothes or or in leggings and a pair of skates. I actually prefer her in skates. Maybe even to the pink dress she’s wearing now.
But seeing her all dressed up—dressed up forme…
Yeah. I’m still overwhelmed and trying my best to appear perfectly normal when all I want is to reach across and take her hand.
Then maybe pull the car over and kiss her the way I’ve been wanting to for days now.
