Chapter 9
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One week later
I’m still in New York, and now more than ever, I’m itching to get back to Gold Haven. Sorting out Myrna’s estate has taken multiple meetings with lawyers followed by meetings with financial advisers, and then there was the never-ending packing up of her apartment and my own business to run while I did it all.
My phone rings as I flop onto the bed in my hotel room after a long freaking day finishing up with the designer who is redecorating Myrna’s apartment. I don’t recognize the number, but I answer it anyway because the area code is Gold Haven’s.
“Hello?”
“Damn, girl. You ever planning on coming back?”
The voice is familiar, but it takes me a few seconds to place it. “Julianne?”
“Who the hell else would it be? Did you suddenly make a bunch of friends in town that I don’t know about?”
“Not exactly. But I’m coming back. Hopefully really soon.”
“You might want to speed up your plans because the vultures are circling over your man. I don’t know if it’s because they sense he’s a wounded animal, ready to be taken down, or if they’re just desperate to get their last shot in before you show up again.”
I stiffen. “Excuse me?”
“Gold Haven’s finest are cornering him in the grocery store, and tromping in and out of his shop so often, it’s a wonder the man has gotten a damn thing done.”
With Julianne’s vantage point from her salon across the street, I have to believe she’s telling the truth.
“Bitches,” I mumble under my breath.
“Definitely bitches. So I figured I’d give you the heads-up, because you know Logan, he’s too damn nice to tell them to leave him the hell alone in a way they’re going to take to heart.”
“What do you mean?”
“The only thing Emmy Harris has ever set her sights on that she hasn’t locked down is the new-and-improved Logan Brantley, and she’s not backin’ off without a fight. I’m pretty sure she built that house hoping he’d be moving into it with her someday soon.”
Red rage fills my vision. “What the hell doesn’t she understand about the word taken?”
“Girl, you’re out of sight and out of mind for her, so you better believe she doesn’t see it that way. I wanted you to know that it might be in your best interest to get your ass back here so you can stake your claim before she finds some way to snake him out from under you without him realizing it.”
Even though Julianne can’t see it, I prop a hand on my hip, my pose screaming WARNING: ATTITUDE AHEAD. “Logan doesn’t want her. He wants me.”
“But that didn’t stop her from faking a pregnancy and getting a ring from the homecoming king three weeks after graduation.”
“What?” Shock slams into me.
“She’s a slippery bitch, and even though that didn’t work out the way she planned, I wouldn’t put anything past her when it comes to Logan.”
“I’ll be back by the end of the week.”
“I wouldn’t wait too long. See you soon, Banner. Oh, and can you bring me back one of those New York Fire Department T-shirts? And maybe one of those shirtless firemen too? The ones in the calendars. Wait, never mind. Firemen are assholes. Bring me an NYPD shirt and a sexy cop.”
I laugh, but it sounds forced. Probably because I want to accidentally knock Emmy Harris into a ditch. With my car.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
After I hang up with Julianne, I tell myself I have nothing to worry about when it comes to Emmy Harris. Logan is mine. End of story.
Then why did you ask him about her bringing him dinner?
A few weeks away after even less time than that together isn’t exactly the best recipe for a relationship.
And if you’re not worried about Emmy Harris, why did you pay the hotel chef so much money to give you cooking classes at night?
Dammit, that little voice in my head really needs to shut up before I actually start to worry.
I know exactly what will quell it, though—I call Logan.
“Hey, Bruce. Perfect timing, I just got out of the shower.”
The vision in my head is delicious. “Are you naked or wearing a towel?”
His voice deepens. “A towel, but that can change.”
We’ve had phone sex more times than I should probably admit to over the last three weeks, and then that one hilarious attempt at Skype sex. But come on, a girl has needs, and Logan’s husky drawl gets me to the finish line faster than anything else.
“Mmm, is that so? I could probably get rid of a few layers myself,” I tell him.
Instead of responding with something equally sexy, Logan says, “Shit. My doorbell.”
“What?”
“Someone’s here.”
“Should I let you go?”
I can hear his footsteps over the phone like he’s headed to the door to check.
“Fuck, it’s Emmy. I’ll call you back, babe.”
Before I can reply, Logan ends the call.
No. Fucking. Way.
Logan just answered the door to that bitch wearing only a towel?
Everything Julianne said comes back in a rush, and I bolt off the bed to grab my laptop.
It’s time for me to get back to Gold Haven and my man.