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“It’s not,” Logan agrees.
“Enough about my parents,” I say, smiling at Logan. “Now that we’ve faced the familial inquisition, we can actually have fun.”
Logan gazes at me with a smolder full of promises he has NO business making as a fake boyfriend. “Who says I’m not having fun already?”
* * *
As far as adhesive goes, I’m about as effective as an off-brand glue stick. The kind that barely holds construction paper together and frequently serves as a snack for children.
Because within half an hour, I’ve lost Logan. Completely and totally lost. There is no sign of the man anywhere. And trust me, I’ve looked. It’s not like he’s hard to miss either—he’s a big dude.
A big dude who might have left the building right alongside Elvis.
I know Logan is a celebrity and I should have expected that everyone and their half-brother’s cousin from Idaho would want to talk to him. But I vastly underestimated the way he’d get swarmed. The last I saw of him, he was shooting me an apologetic look and being dragged off to discuss sports with Larry. I also forgot the team owner would be here. My dad may not be a huge hockey fan, but Larry throws his money around, and being a shareholder at EverTech is one of those places. I’m not surprised he stole Logan, but I sure wish Larry would bring him back.
By now, Logan could be in another state. On another continent. In space.
What I know for certain is that when Aaron Wagner appears in front of me like some kind of ghastly apparition, I really regret not being Logan’s superglue.
“May I have this dance, madame?” Aaron asks in a terrible French accent. He sounds like Martin Short doing a bad impression of Lumiere fromBeauty and the Beast.
I briefly consider saying, “My breasts don’t dance,” since Aaron directed his question toward my chest, but decide against it. I do cross my arms, providing some small amount of protection from Aaron’s slimy gaze.
“I’m actually here with someone.”
“Yeah?” Aaron makes a show of exaggeratedly peering around the room. “Where is he?”
“Obviously not here,” I mutter.
I glance over Aaron’s shoulder and wish I could make Logan appear with only the concentration of my mind. But I’m no better at moving objects with my mind than I am at being glue.
“Come on,” Aaron says, tugging at my arm. “It’ll be fun.”
About as fun as getting pelted with vinegar-filled water balloons. Ew! That is a viscerally terrible idea—but still preferable to dancing with the man now trying to man-handle me out onto the dance floor.
It’s just my luck that the full band—because of course my father has a full band—stops playing a fast-paced Bruno Mars cover and moves into Ed Sheeran.
Awesome. Now Aaron Wagner is going to ruin Ed Sheeran for me forever.
I pull my arm away from his just as a warm hand slides around my waist, gently maneuvering me backward into a firm chest.
I know this chest! And I know this scent. More than either of those things, I recognize the immediate sense of peace I seem to feel in Logan’s presence.
“I don’t mean to butt in,” Logan says, and it’s clear from his tone he’s not the least bit sorry and absolutely meant to butt in, “but I need to have the first dance of the night with my girlfriend. It’s a requirement.”
Girlfriend.This all may be fake, but hearing Logan call me his girlfrienddoesthings to me.
I am a stick of butter left outside on a summer day. A warm, buttery puddle.
I mean, I know Logan’s words are just a ploy to get Aaron away. They’re what we agreed on in the rules: one night of being boyfriend and girlfriend.
But in my heart of hearts, I’m burying this treasure of a moment for a rainy day. I’ll unearth it later, when I’ve lost all joy in my life so I can remember that brief point in time when Logan Barnes called me his girlfriend.
I can’t bring myself to look at Logan’s face. And not just because it would be awkward with how close he’s standing behind me. I’m afraid if I look at him right now, I’ll be a goner.
Aaron smiles, looking like a little dog baring its teeth. “Sure, man. I didn’t realize Parker had a boyfriend. Or that it wasyou.”
He looks like he’s about to say something insulting—either to me or to Logan or possibly to us both—but thinks better of it. Who knew the man had more than one brain cell? There are at least two in there.
