Chapter Twenty-Six

Angela

The buzzing of my alarm jars me from sleep. I groan, turn it off, and roll toward the window. Still in a sleepy haze, I’m surprised to find Logan awake and watching me. A sliver of sunlight peeking through the curtains slices across our bodies, tying us together. He gives me a smile as his fingers trace the curve of my hip.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” he says.

I stretch my hands over my head, loving the pull in my muscles and the ache in my center from last night. Logan slides the sheets from our naked bodies and covers me in sweet kisses. His lips are soft, his breath is warm, and it all sends me to a place of pure bliss. He takes his time exploring every inch of my body with torturous attention.

“I love these two little dimples just above your ass,” he says, placing a kiss on each one.

When I’ve had enough of teasing, I beg him for more. Logan hits me with that crooked grin, enjoying the way he drives me wild. He only makes me beg a few more times before pinning my hands down and weaving our fingers together. When he slides inside me, it is intentionally slow and reverent.

Afterwards, when my body is spent and my legs feel like jelly, I force myself up and into the shower. I’m already late for work and that never happens. As I brush my teeth and check my reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror, I can’t help but smile. I want to pinch myself to make sure this isn’t a dream that I’ll wake up from.

Wrapping a towel around myself, I step into my bedroom to find Logan still in bed. The sheet lies across his hips, framing that amazing body, and all I want to do is crawl in there with him.

“So, why the towel?” he asks, grinning. “Surely, I’ve seen everything there is to see.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Being naked during sexy times is way different than being naked while doing regular things.”

Logan chuckles and sits up, propping himself on a few pillows. “How’s it different?”

“It just is.” I wave my hands around, knowing I’ve made nothing clear. “Things just look different when your brain isn’t in sex mode.”

He climbs out of bed, letting that sheet slip away. He stands before me completely naked and confident. He’s got every reason to be. The arms, the chest, the abs, the cut of that V leading down to his cock—it’s all magnificent. I pull my towel closed tighter.

“Angela,” he says, reaching for me. He nudges my hands away from their grip on the towel. He pulls it from my body and drops it on the floor. His eyes travel over me slowly, and my cheeks start to burn. “When I’m around you, naked or otherwise, I’m in sex mode.”

The intensity of his gaze makes me look away. There’s still so much we need to talk about, so much more to say. While I’m amazed at his attraction to me, I can’t help but wonder where this leaves us.

Logan’s fingers nudge my chin, bringing me back to his face. “It kills me that you don’t know how beautiful you are, how effortlessly sexy. And you make me want to be better. Hell, you make me want things I haven’t wanted in a long time. Somehow, I’ll convince you that you can trust me and that I can be worthy of you.” He places a little kiss on my cheek and moves past me, swatting my bare ass. I let out a yelp and rub the spot.

“Face it,” he says, “I like seeing my girlfriend naked. Any time and all the time.”

All the breath leaves my body. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin to find Logan walking into the bathroom, like we’re just having any kind of conversation.

“Where are you going?” I almost shriek.

He looks at me over his shoulder. “I need a shower. I smell like sex.”

“But don’t you think we need to talk about that bomb you just dropped?”

He turns to face me now and I admit it’s hard to concentrate when everything is on display so freely. His brows dip low over his eyes and he searches my face. “Bomb?”

“Logan, you called me your girlfriend.” I prop my hands on my hips and immediately wonder what that looks like with no clothes on.

A megawatt smile spreads across his face. He walks back to me, grabbing my hands and holding them between us. “So I did,” he says. “Sorry. I don’t want to assume. I just figured, since I made you come so many times, it was like a rule or something.” He gives me that mischievous crooked grin. “Are you okay with that?”

“I…I mean…” I stutter. His smile disappears and my stupidity has made him think that I don’t want this. “I think I’m okay with that.”

“Good,” Logan says, then knocks me a kiss on the cheek and heads back toward the bathroom. “Because I like the sound of Angela Louise, Queen of the Dorks, Artist Extraordinaire, Server of Cheeseburgers and Fries, being my girlfriend.”

I stand motionless, letting all that sink in, wearing a big goofy grin. When the bathroom door closes, it snaps me out of my daze. I spin in circles until I’m dizzy.

“Girlfriend,” I say in a whisper. “Hi. I’m Angela, Logan Sawyer’s girlfriend.” Both hands cover my mouth to contain the squeal, as I bounce up and down on my toes. “Fucking girlfriend,” I repeat.

“Hey, fucking girlfriend,” Logan says.

I freeze and turn toward the bathroom, where he is leaning against the open door with a smile. My cheeks ignite.

“Aren’t you late for work already?”

…

“You’ve never been late in the four years you’ve been working here.” I was surprised to find Millie here this morning, since she rarely stops by the diner these days. Apparently, she only came by to check inventory, saw that I wasn’t here, and helped Audrey out as best she could. “I’ve been out of practice, so I’m not sure I even helped poor Audrey this morning.” She laughs. “Anyway, you’re here now, so I’ll let you get to it.”

“It won’t happen again. I promise.”

She pats me on the shoulder. “I believe you. We’re all human, kid. We all make mistakes. You’ve been nothing but an excellent employee. I’ll be sad to see you go when you graduate from school next year.”

As soon as Millie is gone, I tie on my apron and hustle into the diner. I find Audrey handling it all by herself and feel like an asshole. This morning, waking up to Logan Sawyer in my bed was surreal.

“I’m so sorry, Audrey,” I say as she passes me a tray full of dirty dishes.

“It’s okay, kid. Table three needs a wipe down, table eight needs refills, and the counter is all yours.”

“Got it.”

I get to work and stay busy for the next couple of hours. I’m cleaning the last table after the breakfast rush when I spill an entire cup of coffee down the front of my apron. I curse and try to clean it off the best I can. The stain is still very visible, but my extra apron is at home. It’ll just have to do for the rest of the day.

Logan walks into the diner. Even in his T-shirt and jeans, all I can think about is how hot he is. Sweet words replay through my mind and I’m thankful that I decided to give him another chance. He takes a seat at the counter and eyes my apron.

“Yikes,” he says, pointing to the stain.

“After that kind of morning, this is a small casualty. What are you doing here on your day off?”

“Just needed some coffee,” he answers with a crooked grin.

“Just coffee, huh?”

“Just coffee,” he says. “No other reason to be here. Nope.”

I laugh and grab the coffee pot before pouring him a cup.

“Whew,” Audrey says, plopping down onto one of the counter stools. “That was intense. The only time I’ve ever serviced more people was when I went to a swingers party with my first husband.”

I let out a laugh and lean against the counter. “Save that story for another day. Again, I’m sorry, Audrey. I suck.”

“Cool it, Al. I know you have a lot going on right now.” Her eyes slide down to Logan and back to me. “You okay?”

I pour myself a cup of coffee and give Audrey a wide smile. “Fantastic, actually. I’ll have to give you a full report later. How are you on this fine day?”

“I’m good. Not as good as you, though. You seem to be walking on sunshine. This,” she says waving a hand up and down toward me, “is not the Monday morning Angela I’m used to.”

I pat her shoulder before heading down the counter to top off Logan’s coffee. He gives me a smile and ducks his head again, staring at something on his phone.

“It’s a good day. And a girl can change, right?”

Audrey glares at me, as if trying to solve a puzzle. I clear an abandoned table and wipe down the top for the next customers. She is right, though. I am lighter today. There’s a buzzing kind of energy flowing through me and I feel like I could conquer the world.

It’s odd when a dream I’ve had for so long actually comes true. It stirs all these emotions in me and I’m not sure how to process them. I try to stay positive and not let my usual self-doubt creep in. Forcing myself to focus on the here and now, I think about all the sweet words Logan whispered to me. I think about how his body molded to mine and how he made me feel things I’ve never felt before.

“You’re thinking about sex,” Audrey sings, passing me with a tray of dishes. I chuckle and wipe the grin off my face, trying to not give her any more ammunition.

“Am not.” My argument is weak and she knows it.

A few minutes later, she returns with her empty tray. She slides an order slip to KC and props a hand on her hip. I try to ignore her staring as much as I try to ignore Logan and his perma-grin at the end of my counter. I actually recognize the moment when she makes the connection.

Audrey stands up tall and she raises both hands in the air. “Holy hell, you guys totally got it on.” Her voice is so loud in the quiet diner that my cheeks burn from embarrassment.

“Do you even have an inside voice?” I ask, turning away from her, only to find Logan laughing from his place at the counter.

“Oh. My. God. I can’t believe it happened. You guys made up,” she says, leaning into me in an effort to whisper. “Was it good? Did he treat your kitty right? Are you sore?”

“Audrey!” I busy myself wiping down the counter in front of me while she takes off. When she passes Logan, she doesn’t say a word, just holds up a hand. He slaps her a high five and she cackles her way to her next customer.

I make my way over to Logan. “With friends like you guys, who needs enemies?”

His smiling lips form a curved line and he looks up at me with those eyes I love. “I think we’re a little more than friends now, don’t you?”

Audrey returns. She laughs when she sees my face. “Your cheeks are pinker than—”

I clamp a hand over her mouth. “Please don’t finish that sentence. It’s too early for genital references.”

She shrugs and heads into the back room.

“Do you want to come over tonight?” I ask Logan.

“Don’t you have class?” he asks.

I nod. “I do, but it’s just to drop off my final project and essay. I should be back by around eight o’clock. Does Smith know anything yet?”

Logan shakes his head. “Clueless as always. But he’ll find out tomorrow. You really saved my ass, you know?”

“Well, let’s just say you owe me.”

“And I’ll be happy to repay you in so many ways,” Logan says, his eyes smoldering.

I laugh, amazed at this moment of easiness with him. For so long, Logan was an unattainable dream, something I knew I’d never have. And here he is, looking at me like I’m the only person on the planet. I wish my dad were here to see this, to see me happy with a boy who loves comic books too.

“I’ll be there,” he says. “Can I get this to go?”

I transfer his coffee to a Styrofoam cup, top it off and put the lid on. “Be careful. It’s super hot.”

“No worries,” Logan replies. “I know how to handle hot things.”

“Oh my god. Who knew you were such a cheese ball?”

…

I stand in my studio after work, studying my half-finished canvas when inspiration strikes again. Jumping into action, I am set up in a few minutes and know exactly how I want to finish my final project.

This painting is so different than the others. Usually, I let the art speak through me and give myself over to the creative monster inside. But this, this piece makes me think, makes me feel. Every stroke of my brush is intentional and fuels my passion to continue. This is for every victim who’s been blamed for her own abuse. This is for every woman who hid bruises or made excuses. This is for every person who finally found the courage to fight back, only to be neglected by the legal system. I stand and kick my stool away, reaching the top of my canvas and dragging my brush across. This is for everyone who didn’t survive the waiting game.

Hours later, when I am satisfied with my progress, I wash out my brushes and leave them to dry along with the finished painting. I grin at my easel, knowing that my daddy and Professor Truman will be proud of my work. The pride that swells in me sends me off to shower satisfied and excited for class tonight.

…

The classroom door swings open and Professor Truman walks in. He drops his briefcase onto his desk and turns to address the class.

“Well, you’ve all survived another summer semester and, more importantly, a semester with me. Give yourselves a round of applause.”

It starts somewhere in the back of the room with a single clap and builds until everyone is clapping and cheering, the professor even joining in.

“Okay, okay,” he says. “Settle down. While it’s sad that this is our last class together, I’ll see you all again at the gallery premiere where your work will be showcased for the evening. I can’t wait to see what you’ve come up with.” His eyes land on me with that last sentence and suddenly I doubt the painting I’ve turned in. I give him a smile anyway.

“So, let’s begin.”

He calls each student up to turn in their essay and final project one by one, dismissing them once they’re finished. Of course, he saves me for last.

“Miss Lavelle,” he says, motioning me to come forward in the empty room.

I grab my canvas and my essay folder, placing both on his desk.

“Well, I have to say, this is quite impressive. It’s emotional. It’s raw—so inspired.”

“Thank you,” I tell him.

Professor Truman looks up at me over his glasses. “I hope it doesn’t come from personal experience.” He pauses. “But that’s none of my business.”

“It was inspired by a friend and her mother, sir.”

He nods, his eyes studying my painting. “Good, good. It has been a pleasure having you in my class, young lady. You truly inherited your father’s talent and even parts of his personality. It’s been like a blast from the past. Nicky would be so proud of you.”

I give him a strange look. “Nicky?”

He chuckles and removes his glasses. “That’s what we called your dad back in the day. He hated it. Forgot all about that.” A hint of sadness sneaks into his last words and I feel them, too. “Well,” Professor Truman says, giving his shoulders a shake as if to remove the memories lingering. “I’ll see you at the gallery showing, right?”

“I’ll be there.” I grab my bag from my desk and make my way toward the door.

Back in my car and on the way to Crowley, the dark, empty road is a welcoming old friend. With school finished, that stress is lifted from my shoulders, only to be replaced by worry about Logan’s run-in with Smith tomorrow.

I stare out at the empty fields around me and wonder how everything will go down and what it could mean for our new relationship, what it could mean for me. Will it feel like a huge relief or will it leave me with more guilt? As the miles fly by, I know that I’ll soon find out.