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MARTI
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“FANCY MEETING YOU HERE.” Logan set his coffee down and took a seat across from her.
“Your stalker tendencies are a bit worrisome.”
“What? You practically invited me.” He slouched down into his seat—all long legs and hulking biceps—sprawled out like he owned the place.
“Shouldn’t you be working?” she admonished. “Don’t you have babies to deliver? Foundations to run?” Marti shot him a dirty look as she took a sip of her latte.
“Don’t you have some mind-numbing, banal topic to write about? Like Who Wore It Best or Celebrities are Just Like Us?”
“Hilarious. But you know as well as I do that if what I’m writing about is boring these days, it’s partly your fault.”
“Touché.”
Marti went back to her book. If he wanted to interrupt her peace and solitude to annoy her, she’d just ignore him. Pretend he wasn’t even there. Just a girl, her coffee, and a book.
He drummed his fingers over the table in a grating rhythm.
She set her jaw. She could do this.
When she turned the page, he cleared his throat—an over-exaggerated phlegmy sound she knew was artificial. She took a sip of her latte, and he mimicked her movement. His shadow was on a two-second delay.
Her gaze flicked to him. “What are you doing?”
“Why? Is it bothering you?” He leaned farther across the table and nearly pushed her book off in the process. His stupid arms were so big, they ate up the entire thing.
“Do you mind?” She nudged his arms back, making room for her book.
“Not in the slightest.” He flashed her a grin. “What are you reading anyway?” he asked as he snatched the book away.
She jumped from her chair, trying to reach it but the man had the arms of an Amazon. “Hey!”
“The Seven Pillars of a Successful Woman.” He shot her a wry smile and tossed it back. “How riveting.”
“It’s self-improvement. You should try it.”
“What would be more useful to you is something like The Five Love Languages or maybe even something more old school like How to Find a Man and Keep Him.”
Marti rolled her eyes. “Gag me.”
Sliding her book off the table, she slipped it into her messenger bag. Clearly, she wasn’t getting any reading done today. Truth be told, the book was a bit dry. But there was no way she would tell him that.
She clasped both hands around her latte, enjoying the warmth of it against her palms as she gave him the once-over. He wore a charcoal crewneck sweater with jeans, and his hair was slightly messier than usual, but the casual look suited him.
He was handsome, maybe the most attractive guy she’d ever seen in real life. Not just hot or cute, but masculine in an unbelievably sexy way.
Clearing her throat, she took a bite of her coffee cake, avoiding his eye.
“Thanksgiving’s coming up,” he said, breaking the silence.
“Yes,” she said, hoping he wasn’t about to suggest they should see each other over the holiday weekend. Best to steer clear of that road. “What does a holiday with your family look like?” she asked. In other words, What does it look like, since I won’t be there to see it?
Grinning, he stole a chunk of her cake and popped it in his mouth. She was so used to him annoying her, she didn’t even bother protesting.
“I have a decently large extended family, but they live all over. Since we’re spread out, it’s usually just me, my dad, and sister. But it’s pretty fun. I cook and—”
“Hold up.” Marti gawked at him. “You cook?”
Logan shrugged. “My dad was left with a newborn and a nine-year-old boy at home. He kind of had to learn how to get around a kitchen, and I grew up watching him cook, so it was normal that I learned. I was the older one, and as my dad increased his work hours as my sister got older, I was in charge of dinner most days.”
“Makes sense.” Why was the image of a teenage Logan cooking his family dinner ridiculously appealing?
Logan wiggled his brows, and she wiped the image from her mind. “Does that turn you on? A guy that can cook?”
“It’s certainly a mark in your favor. Though you don’t have many, so . . .” She grinned and ate a chunk of cake.
“Liar.” Logan winked, causing the butterflies in her stomach to riot. “I knew my culinary skills would make you swoon.”
“Uh, don’t get too cocky over there, Bobby Flay.”
“You should see the things I can do with a grill,” he said with a sly smile, then slowly lifted his coffee cup to his lips, and Marti chided herself for staring.
What was with her today?
Clearing her throat, she willed herself to stop acting like an idiot and took a sip of her own drink, buying some time to scold her body back into an acceptable level of indifference. “So, you cook. What else?” she asked.
“It’s all pretty normal. I cook, and my sister helps but mostly gets in the way. We eat, have a few drinks, and watch football. Nothing too crazy. What about you?”
“Ah, a football family. We’re kind of the same. My mother cooks, while I assist. But instead of football, we watch cheesy Hallmark movies.” She placed a finger over his lips before he could say anything. “And before you laugh, I’ll have you know that my mother makes me watch those movies. I hate them with the passion of a thousand fiery suns.”
“Sure ya do,” he said, but the words came out garbled around her finger.
“I hate them.”
He nipped playfully at her finger, and she yanked it back, feeling the shock waves of it clear to her toes.
“Or, you’re a Hallmark-holiday-romance-movie-closet-watcher.”
Marti laughed. “I am not.”
“Whatever you say.” He raised his hands in surrender, then leaned against the table, causing his sweater to tighten around his biceps.
Annoyed, Marti glanced away from his arms and back to the safe confines of her coffee cake. Look at all this beautiful cinnamon crumble.
She picked at it and sighed, feeling restless. “You’re impossible.”
“It’s part of my charm.”
“If you say so.” She took a small bite of cake, more for something to do than out of hunger. With the way her stomach twisted in knots, she’d lost her appetite. “The worst part of Thanksgiving is Black Friday. My mother makes me go out with her every year.”
Logan winced.
“Exactly,” she said. “I’d rather walk over a bed of hot coals than go shopping in those crowds.”
“Then why go?”
Marti sighed. “I have trouble saying no to stuff like that with her. When my dad left, it was just us, and she was dealing with a lot. It always felt easier to do whatever she wanted because I liked seeing her happy. I guess it kind of stuck. After I left for college, she was alone. I don’t know, it’s the least I can do.”
Logan’s gaze softened. “What about your dad? Will you see him?”
Marti glanced away, uncomfortable, her throat inexplicably tight. She never talked about him. Not with anyone. Even with Caroline and Mel, she avoided diving in too deep. “Probably not.”
“Because . . .?”
When she didn’t answer, Logan spread his arms out. “Marti, come on. Give me something here. It’s been three weeks since we’ve been together; I think you can do better than two-word answers.
Not really together, Marti wanted to tell him. “We don’t have a very good relationship. I guess you could say it’s strained. When he tried to come back into my life after high school, I didn’t even want to talk to him. I ignored him mostly. But after a while, I gave in. My mother convinced me to at least talk with him, so eventually, we established what I’d consider a cordial relationship. We talk.” Rarely. “And see each other for big events. Birthdays and Christmas, but Thanksgiving is spent with my mom, always my mom.”
Because her mother was the one person she could always rely on, the one in her life she was most grateful for. Spending even part of it with him would feel like a lie.
“Do you think it’s expected that you and I spend it together?” he asked, gesturing between them.
He brought up a good point. If they were truly serious about each other in real life, they would certainly see each other over the holiday. Wouldn’t they? For the sake of her column, she should, but she was starting to rethink whether this was a good idea. Maybe the whole fake-relationship thing had gone on long enough. More and more, she found herself thinking about Logan throughout the day when her mind should be elsewhere. And since the day in Central Park, she found his company to be less grating, welcome even. And those kinds of feelings were bound to lead to trouble.
But she wasn’t the one calling the shots. Blue was. And before she could change course, she needed her approval.
“I think it’s fine if we spend it apart,” she said, screwing up her face and shrugging off his suggestion.
Logan nodded as if he expected this answer, which annoyed her. “Well, just try not to miss me too much McBride.” He smiled. “But if you do, just picture me as one of those guys in those movies you love so much, preferably a tall, dark, and handsome one with swagger.”
Marti snorted and threw a chunk of cake at him. “With swagger? You’re such a dork,” she said, but she appreciated the levity, and it wasn’t lost on her that Logan always seemed to know how to open her up just enough without her shutting down.
#
MARTI FINISHED TYPING her latest article and sent it off for approval. With a sigh of relief, she packed her messenger bag with her favorite mug, her keys, and wallet, then turned to leave.
A scream ripped through her lungs. Laying her palm against her chest, she sucked in a breath and looked up into Blue’s scrutinizing gaze. “Crap. You scared me.”
“Congratulations.” Blue’s red lips cracked, forming a small smile and allowing Marti some relief. “You did it.”
“I did it?” A spike of adrenaline ramped up her spine.
“These last few weeks, especially, your ratings have soared. Your following has increased, your page reads have gone up, and even more people are following you on social media. Readers can’t get enough of Logarti.”
“Logarti?” Marti’s face twisted in confusion.
Blue sighed. “Logan and Marti, Logarti. It’s your ship name.
“Oh.” Well, that’s . . . Horrifying.
“I’m glad it worked,” Marti said. Though, a part of her hated that it had. Because it meant Blue was right. People had grown tired of her and her solo-act. Marti wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It was a little depressing and a lot disconcerting. What did that mean for the future of her column?
“I have to tell you; I wasn’t sure you had it in you. But you proved me wrong.”
“About that,” Marti said. “I’ve been thinking . . . maybe it’s time to call it quits, you know, now that we’ve got everyone’s attention, go back to the kind of content the Queen of Single is most famous for.”
Blue’s mouth parted and she leaned back from Marti like she had the plague, looking horrified. “Are you daft? It’s barely been a month. You can’t just end it now. You need to see this through.”
“Through to what?” she asked, trying to smother her panic.
“Well, I don’t know, but you need to let things run their course. It’s too soon to call it quits now. We’ve got new endorsements, thanks to you. We have jewelers beating down our door with requests for ring ads and—”
“Ring ads?” Marti’s stomach sank like a giant rollercoaster plunge.
“Engagement rings,” Blue said with a sweep of her hand. “And there are others. New opportunities are opening up, so as long as it benefits us, this remains. Logarti stays.”
“But—”
“Oh, don’t tell me you screwed it up already? You screwed it up, didn’t you?” Blue asked, her dark eyes glinting angrily under the fluorescent light.
Marti swallowed. “No. I just don’t want his feelings to get further involved,” she said, telling a partial lie, because as far as she knew, Logan was happy with the status quo. He didn’t seem to have a problem with their fake relationship. She did for reasons she couldn’t analyze at the moment.
Blue scoffed. “He’s a man. He’ll be fine.”
Marti started to protest, then stopped herself. What was she arguing for? Logan wanted this fake relationship just as much as Blue did.
“So keep up the good work,” Blue said. “A lot of people are expecting you to screw up. So don’t.”
And with that harsh reminder, she turned on her heel and left.