Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Please be Carter. Please? Because so far, Logan is…he’s just so perfect. I want it to stay that way.
But what if it is Logan? Would I really care?
Actually, I fucking would. I don’t think I’d want to share him with anyone. Not even via the internet.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The dinner was better than anything I could’ve imagined. The conversation, the food, the wine. Perfect.
But most of all, I loved the company. Being able to look across the table at a man who is stunningly handsome, plus witty and smart, was like being in a dream. He even used his silverware correctly, something I’m kind of into.
At the end of the meal, he walks me out and waits until my car is brought around. He hands me a card for a guy he knows who owns an autobody shop. “He’ll make sure you have a loaner while yours is being repaired, and he’ll give you an excellent deal.”
“Thanks. Oh, and I almost forgot this.” I dig through my purse and hand him a check for five thousand dollars.
He takes it, folds it up, and shoves it in his pocket. I get the feeling he’s going to tear it up later. “I have a lot going on next week, but I’d like to see you again, Mila.”
My heart flutters. “Sure. I’d like that.”
He takes my hand and kisses the top. “Oh, and by the way, I really like that dress. But don’t feel like you have to wear a thong just to impress me.”
My mouth drops open a little. “How do you know what sort of underwear I’ve got on?”
“You squirmed through the entire meal and got up from the table three times.” He leans in to whisper in my ear, “Next time, better if you just go without.” He pecks my cheek. “See you soon, Mila.”
He goes back inside to talk to Chef Jean, I guess.
I watch him walk away again with that seductive swagger, feeling like I can hardly breathe. The chemistry is just so amazing. He makes me feel light-headed and giddy.
Not once did he bore me or make me feel awkward during dinner. He asked about my job and what I’d like to do next. Then he asked about my childhood and how I ended up in Dallas. I did the same, and he told me that he moved back about five years ago.
Go figure, he grew up just outside Dallas, which makes sense because his mother’s here. So is Bob, their friend. I just wonder why Carter lied about growing up in Indiana. What a freaking liar.
Anyway, the only thing Logan didn’t talk about was work, and I sort of wished he would. I want to know what’s up with this fetish thing. Is he Mr. Sticky Nuts? If yes, how does this exotic oils deal tie in? Does he plan to use them during his livestream?
No. That doesn’t make sense. Why would Chef Jean, a high-end French chef, want to get mixed up with fetish porn? The only conclusion is that Logan isn’t Mr. Sticky Nuts. He’s a businessman.
It has to be crazy Carter. After all, he’s the one who knows about cameras, lighting, and whatnot. Also, he’s got the strange diet. He’s hard up for money, too. It has to be Carter. He does the fetish porn to fund his projects.
Good. Because I really like Logan.
I stop for gas on the drive home. The entire way, I can’t stop thinking about Logan and how well the date went. I literally can’t wait to see him again.
I pull into my driveway to find a man sitting on my front porch. He stands just as the beam of the headlight hits him. He’s wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and those leather flip-flops.
Fuck. It’s Carter. “What is he doing here?”
I shut off the engine and get out. As I approach, I notice his face is swollen and red. Oh boy. Logan really did give him a thumping.
“What do you want?” I ask, my tone making it clear he’s in hostile territory.
“You were with him, weren’t you?” he asks, blocking the front door.
“Excuse me?” I say, stopping just shy of the front steps a few feet away.
“You were with Logan. I know you were.”
“It’s none of your business where I was. And you owe me an apology! You had no right to steal my card, spend my money, take my car and trash it. You didn’t even bother to fill the tank.”
“I can explain, Mila. I was at the store and tried to buy those things with my own money, but my card was declined. Then another card and another. Logan canceled all my accounts, pretending to be me. I saw you left your card in your car—you really shouldn’t do that, by the way, someone could steal it—but I used it and meant to pay you back. That’s partly why I went to meet Bob. He was going to talk to Logan and try to get him to stop.”