Lucky Ball Read online

  “You were worried about me? Are you forgetting that you were the one up there onstage, practically setting the room on fire with your voice? Your looks? You’re a star. And you could have anyone you want. Hell, I think I heard one woman offer to have your baby. Not to judge those I don’t know, but I’m guessing they would all be a lot easier to deal with than I am.” She patted her purse where the ball sat tucked away but not forgotten.

  A hint of fear—or was it jealousy?—laced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. He would tell her about his life, his goals, and his dreams. He’d share his plans and the path he had made for himself, but first she needed to know that the only woman that interested him was the one sitting next to him.

  “You are gorgeous, Wren. You’re smart, witty, fun to be around, and you just so happen to come with a Fortune Eight Ball. I’m not going to pretend to understand your attachment to it, but I am going to trust that in time, you’ll share that story with me. What you need to know is I don’t waste my time with random women. I don’t care what they offer or how they look. When I find something I want, I go after it, work for it, and I want to get to know you. I hope that works for you, Lucky, because if it doesn’t…I have my work cut out on making you change your mind. At this point, I don’t think I can walk away.”

  *

  Silence. Hours of silence, or maybe just seconds, stretched on as the things Logan said floated in the narrow space between them. Like the hot air balloon ride Wren had always dreamed of taking, Logan’s colorful words lifted her hopes and fueled her with excitement she hadn’t felt in… ever. He had laid his feelings on the line, and whether or not she placed her faith in her Eight Ball when it came to her choices, she believed she could tell a decent person from a deceitful one. Everything about Logan Enders screamed genuine. Butterfly flutters in her belly turned into the whoosh of an eagle’s wings. She didn’t need him to chase her, because she was already caught.

  “You assumed this was my favorite spot here at Stella’s.” Wren ran her hand across the back of the loveseat adoring the texture of the fabric on her skin. “And it is, but this is the first time I’ve ever sat here.”

  Tilting his head, Logan quietly sipped his coffee, waiting for her to continue.

  “I’ve spent a lot of time up here over the last year. While some people think going out alone is torture, to me, it’s relaxing. I work a lot of hours and I’m not big on watching television, but I absolutely love people watching. I could do that for days on end. Do you have any idea how many first dates I’ve seen happen up here?”

  Logan shook his head. His small grin had Wren’s body heating up in a way that had nothing to do with the caramel drink. With her eyes trained on him, she slipped off her coat and watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed. The man was sinful. Gah.

  “What was I saying?”

  “First dates,” Logan reminded her in a husky voice.

  “Right. Anyway, watching the awkwardness of people’s first dates is always fascinating. I pretend to read and instead make up stories in my mind about what’s going on at their table and how I think the date will end. But none of the first dates ever sit in this spot. They always opt for more open seating. The couples who have gotten past the awkwardness, they’re the ones who seek out this corner.”

  The eagle in Wren’s belly stretched its wings and soared as Logan’s grin broadened into a megawatt smile. Why am I telling this gorgeous, larger-than-life man this story? I sound like a stalker. But she continued sharing because the truth was, she wanted him to know this part of her.

  “I’ve sat in almost every chair at every table, watching the interactions between friends, family, strangers, dates, and lovers. While all of them are fascinating, the happenings in this very spot are my favorite. The way men look at their loved ones, the way women respond to attention they deserve, how the biggest, toughest men or women get a soft look on their face when they feel cherished…” She sighed, lost for a moment in her memories. “I don’t know. There is something really magical about it.”

  “And you decided to share all that with me?” The question came out raspy and low, tugging Wren from her bubble-wrapped fantasy.

  “Uhh…” Go big or go home, Wrenny, Emmy’s voice said in her head. “Yeah, I did.”

  Logan’s forehead touched hers. “Why?”

  “Because every look you’ve given me since the night we met has made me think of this spot.” The memory of him defending her to the asshole in line made warmth flow through her body. “I can’t imagine sitting anywhere else with you.”

  Time stood still as his brown eyes smoldered. Then as if someone pressed fast forward, the bottle was out of her hand, her body pulled tightly to his, and their lips were smashed together in a kiss so consuming that neither place nor time existed. The sensation of Logan’s fingers cupping her head and gripping her hair made her gasp with pleasure, a move Logan used to his advantage. His tongue eased into her mouth and skillfully tangled with her own. She was shocked by her own eager response to his touch, his breath, the low growl coming from deep in his chest. Had he not deepened their kiss when he did, she probably would have crawled into his lap.

  “Eww, they’re kissing!”

  The youthful accusation doused the raging fire that burned wild between them. Heat of a whole different kind climbed Wren’s torso and burned her cheeks as she tried to yank back from Logan’s hold.

  “Easy, beautiful,” he rasped, his lips pressed against the top of her head. “We got caught kissing by a little kid. While it isn’t the best-case scenario, it certainly isn’t the worst.”

  The sound of his chuckle eased the tension in Wren’s shoulders. He loosened his arms and put some physical distance between them, but the few inches seemed to suck all the warmth from Wren’s body, leaving her to shiver from the loss of his heat. While she knew he had enjoyed their kiss and he couldn’t have faked that kind of passion, he seemed so quick to turn it off. As though he was completely unaffected while she was spinning out of control. Get a grip, Wren. A few kisses and you go all Stalkers-R-Us on the poor guy.

  *

  “What’s tumbling through that head of yours?” Logan asked, both curious and attempting to keep her attention on his face and not the massive hard-on throbbing in his jeans. Maybe she won’t notice if I shift just a bit. Shit, my dick is gonna have zipper indentations for life.

  At his age, he’d kissed his fair share of women. Hell, he had been in a successful band until he was twenty-one years old—he was far from a choir boy—and even though he had been more selective since, he still scratched the occasional itch. But not once had he experienced kisses the way Wren Jamison gave them.

  Her cheeks flushed crimson as she picked at her croissant. “I’m sure you must hear this all the time—it makes me cringe to even say it, but I swear, it’s the honest-to-God truth—who I’ve been with you is not who I am with anyone else.”

  “Explain.”

  “Logan,” she whisper-shouted, “I have never in my life walked up to a stranger and molested him with my tongue. I’ve never made out in clubs and bars, and I’ve certainly never sucked face in a coffee shop while innocent kids were present. This is not me… I mean, obviously it is, ‘cause I’m right here, but I so don’t do this kind of stuff.”

  Holding back a laugh was difficult… and painful. He bit his cheek until the coppery taste of blood hit his tongue, but he held back the grin. Or so he thought.

  “Why are you laughing? I know, my actions don’t support my words—”

  He had to put her out of her misery. “Wren, stop talking.”

  She glared at him but did as requested.

  “I believe you,” he said.

  “You do?”

  “Of course. Just the fact that you’re worried about what I think when the only thing we’ve done is kiss makes you unique. If you were like other women, that line would have been spoken from my bed the first night we met.” When her blue eyes bulged at his words, he added, “If you want
to know the truth, even if that had happened, your body under mine on night one, had you said that wasn’t your norm, I would have believed you.” He grazed his knuckles down the silk of her jaw. “You exude sincerity. And I’m smiling because you actually used the phrase ‘molested with your tongue.’ Sorry, Lucky, but if you can’t laugh at that, you have bigger problems than ‘sucking face in a coffee shop.’”

  “Okay,” she whispered after her tongue slicked across her lush bottom lip.

  Logan arched his brow, unable to focus on anything more than her mouth. “Okay, what?”

  Eyes on her pastry, Wren said, “Okay, I won’t be annoyed that you just laughed at me, because once again, you did it in a way that made my insides kinda mushy.”

  “I need your eyes when you talk to me, beautiful.”

  Smiling blue pools lifted to him. “Something about you, Logan, makes me mushy.”

  “Hmm, you seem to have quite the opposite effect on me.” He winked, and she blushed. “How about we move this date to somewhere less public?”

  Without hesitation, she slipped her croissant into the paper bag, slid off the loveseat, and reached for her coat. Subtly adjusting himself, Logan shrugged on his jacket and reviewed his itinerary for Monday morning. Anything to get his raging erection to go down.

  Chapter Ten

  Can I Get You A Lick

  Closing the passenger door, Logan watched Wren tug the seat belt across her body and insert it into the latch. The day he purchased the BMW 435i, he’d thought there was nothing sexier than the little black convertible, but that notion was blown to bits the moment Wren Jamison sat her ass on the soft leather seats.

  Tugging and inserting… fuck, Enders, get a grip, you adolescent hornball. He slid into the driver’s seat.

  “W-where should we go?” The slight hesitation in Wren’s question made Logan wonder if the January air had chilled more than just the interior of the car.

  Quickly, he started the ignition and bumped the heat up high. “I’d love to take you to my place.”

  His comment was met with silence.

  “No pressure, Lucky, just two people hanging out until you get bored of me. Then I’ll take you home.” He tucked a piece of chocolate hair behind her ear, the gesture bringing a tiny smile to her lips.

  In lieu of a verbal response, she reached into her purse and lifted out the familiar black ball. He was interested to see how exactly this would play out. Would she really end the date if the ball suggested they shouldn’t be alone together?

  “Should we go to Logan’s house?” She shook the sphere as hope bloomed in his chest.

  –Very Doubtful–

  Unsure what affected him more, the frustration of the ball’s reply or the flash of relief that passed over Wren’s face, Logan realized that he needed to slow things down if he wanted to keep Wren around. Obviously she wasn’t ready to be alone with him, and he wasn’t the kind of man to push, especially not with her.

  “No worries, Lucky, we can do private a different—”

  “No, I’m not ready for today to be over yet.” She looked at the ball and asked, “Should we go back to my house?”

  The possibility of more time with her excited him enough to make him lean over and press his lips to the Fortune Ball’s surface. “Lucky kisses, remember?” He winked as his mind ridiculed him. From an adolescent to a chick all in one morning! But those thoughts meant nothing when the answer in the little window read:

  –Yes–

  “Nice,” he said.

  *

  If she thought Logan’s presence had made her foyer look small, seeing his tall, broad body on her couch was nearly comical. The man oozed sexy, and she wanted nothing more than to lap it up.

  “Can I get you a lick…uhh, a drink?” she asked.

  “Can I say ‘yes’ to both of those offers?”

  “How about we focus on the drink first?” She pivoted, giving him her back, and headed to the kitchen. She needed to stick her head in the freezer in order to stop the flames from setting her face on fire.

  “I’ll have some water, thanks.” He chuckled.

  Before joining him on the couch, Wren flipped a switch, igniting the flames in the gas fireplace. The warmth immediately eased her muscles.

  “This place is great, Wren. It looks newly renovated. How long have you lived here?”

  “I’ve only been here about two years. Mrs. Russell, the woman who owns the duplex, updated the entire place right before I moved in.” Logan sipped his water and listened intently as Wren explained. “Mr. Russell passed away just about three years ago, after a long battle with cancer.”

  “How do you know them?”

  “I’ve worked with them on and off since I was sixteen. Anyway,” she said, apparently hoping to gloss over any and all work-related questions, “when she found out I was moving home after graduating from college, she renovated the entire house and offered me this place for crazy cheap rent. I refused. It felt like I was taking advantage—I mean, look at this place! But Mrs. Russell insisted. So we struck a deal. I do her weekly grocery shopping—I shop, she pays—I shovel both parking spots when it snows, I take care of her cats when she goes on vacation, and I join her for one meal a week. That was all she was willing to take, so clearly I’m still getting the better end of the deal, but she’s an amazing and generous woman.” Wren wished she could read Logan’s thoughts because his silence was unnerving.

  “Wren, I’m willing to bet if you asked Mrs. Russell who was getting the better end of the deal, her answer would be completely different.”

  “Logan…”

  “Seriously, the more time I spend with you, the more beautiful I think you are, which is fucking crazy because the night we met, I thought you were the hottest woman I had ever seen.”

  “Mushy,” she croaked, her throat suddenly desert dry.

  “The opposite.” He smirked.

  “Gonna get a refill.” She quickly stood—the freezer was about to get another visit. “Would you like one?”

  “Sure. When you come back, I’d love to hear about your job.”

  Oh, shit. She looked at the clock on the microwave. Noon on a Sunday… is it too early for alcohol? “How about a beer?” she asked, poking her head back into the main room.

  “Okay. How about we order some pizza too?”

  Her stomach growled as if it understood his suggestion.

  “I’m guessing that’s a yes?” he asked.

  She nodded before returning to the kitchen to fetch the beer and takeout menus.

  *

  They sat by the fireplace on the shaggy area rug, eating what was arguably the best pizza in the small town. Watching sheer bliss cross Wren’s face as she dug into her second slice gave him a strange sense of satisfaction. Too often the women he dated refused to indulge in carbs or sweets, and while he took pride in his body, he also enjoyed life. He wanted someone to enjoy it with.

  Wren dipped a French fry in ketchup before popping it in her mouth and smiling. “So good, right?”

  He nodded. Yep, she enjoyed the hell out of her food, and after hearing about the workouts she and Emmy did together, he had no question about how she kept her body in such incredible shape. “You mentioned earlier that you started working with Mrs. Russell when you were sixteen years old. Do the two of you still work together?”

  The delight that graced Wren’s face slid off like the hot cheese from the pizza slice. Obviously work was a touchy subject, but since it was a part of her everyday life, he had no intention of changing the topic.

  “Yes, I still work with Mrs. Russell.” Wren twisted off the top off the second bottle beer and took a long pull. But she didn’t offer up more information.

  “At the underwear factory?” he confirmed.

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve been there a long time.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Her playful shrug didn’t distract him from the discontent in her voice.

  “Smith told me you and Emmy we
nt to college together. So did you start at the factory part-time in high school, then go back after you graduated?”

  Sighing, Wren took another sip of beer and nodded. “I actually continued to work there during semester breaks and summer vacations as well.”

  Okay, she obviously wasn’t going to put the kibosh on his inquiry, but she’d also made it clear she had no intention of giving him information freely. What Wren didn’t know was, the more she evaded, the more interested he became.

  “Wren, is Under Your Wears a cover for a huge drug operation?”

  “What?” she shouted, eyes wide with offense at the implication. “No, and how dare you—”

  He interrupted. “Is it housing illegal gambling or something else equally as sketchy?”

  Wren stood and pointed at the door. “I think you should leave.”

  Logan didn’t move. Instead, he stretched his legs out in front of him and felt the corners of his mouth curl up.

  “What the fuck, Logan?” she huffed, although the indignation appeared to have fled leaving only pseudo agitation behind. “Do I look like some sort of lunatic to you?”

  “You tell me,” he asked, his tone as cool as the beer in his hand. “Twice today I’ve asked you about your job, and twice you’ve either changed the subject or acted ashamed of it. What conclusion would you come to if the situations were reversed?”

  Silence filled the room as Wren’s mouth formed the perfect little O. God, he wanted to kiss those lips. But first, he needed to get to the bottom of whatever was causing her so much distress.

  Exhaling loudly, she stared straight into the eyes. “You’re right. You play dirty, but you’re right.” She eased back onto the rug, grabbed her beer, and swallowed a couple more times before speaking. “Do you really think I would be part of any of those things you mentioned?”

  “Hell no! I’m a pretty good judge of character, and if I even questioned yours, I would have never pursued you. That said, I need you to talk to me. Unless we’re both being entertained, playing games is not something I want to do.” He leveled her with a stare. “So can that please be the last of them?”