The Billionaire's Practice Kiss - Tamie Dearen Page 0,17

I brought it up.” Nancy opened a nearby cabinet and took out three plates. “Do you mind setting the table for me?”

Knowing Nancy had read her discomfort and shifted the attention, Ellery tried to express her gratitude in her wobbly smile. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that she’d made enough noise to wake them. She might as well accept the fact that she was going to be single all her life. What guy would want to marry someone so scarred, both inside and out?

She caught Logan’s gaze, only for a brief moment, but long enough to see his fretful expression. She couldn’t quite put a finger on the intense emotion behind those compelling green eyes, but it had to be some form of pity. Ugh! Pity was what she hated most in the world, and what was dished out for her every time she turned around, like living on a steady diet of soggy boiled asparagus.

Though she wanted to skip breakfast and hide in her room, her stomach protested the idea with a gurgle that echoed across the tiled kitchen, bringing a smile to Nancy’s face and making Logan’s shoulders shake with laughter.

“Good thing breakfast is almost ready,” Nancy said as she piled napkins and stainless ware on top of the stack of plates in Ellery’s hands.

In the end, Ellery was glad she’d stayed to eat, marveling at herself for downing three entire blueberry pancakes with maple syrup in addition to strawberries, pineapple, and four slices of bacon. No other mention had been made of her nightmares, though Logan’s nervous glances confirmed that he’d heard her as well.

“That was delicious,” Ellery said, pushing up from the table and gathering the other plates, now empty like her own. “What time do we need to leave for the wedding?”

“It starts at six thirty.” Logan glanced up at the clock on the wall. “I assume we’ll leave here about six o’clock.”

“Five thirty,” Nancy corrected. “It’s polite to arrive about thirty minutes early.

“It’s an outdoor wedding,” Logan said. “I’d rather not be there early so we can sweat for an extra thirty minutes.”

“Five thirty,” Nancy repeated in a firm tone. “I may not be a part of the social circle anymore, but I know their expectations. Breaking the rules will only give them an excuse to criticize.”

“Fine. Five thirty.” Logan showed his mom the whites of his eyes as he rolled them toward the ceiling. “I’m going to take Ellery to get her nails done. Where should we go?”

Ellery set the plates in the sink. “That’s okay, Logan. No one’s going to be looking at my fingernails.”

“You should do it.” Nancy held out her hands for Ellery’s inspection. “Thanks to Logan, I get mine done every week.”

“They’re beautiful,” Ellery admitted. The idea was enticing. She hadn’t taken time for herself since…ever!

“It’s so relaxing. They massage your hands and rub lotion in.” Nancy’s eyes closed as if she were reliving the experience.

“Okay. I’m game.” Ellery smiled at Logan, and he looked inordinately proud of himself.

“I’ll make a call,” Nancy said. “And Logan, you could get a haircut and let them shave that beard off your face.”

“Don’t hold your breath, Mom.”

Ellery laughed, secretly glad he wasn’t going to shave off the scruffy, masculine beard that emphasized the square set of his jaw.

Thirty minutes later, they were in the SUV on the way to the salon, a fifteen-minute drive from the house. He cleared his throat a few times, and she waited for him to say whatever was on his mind. He was obviously uncomfortable starting the conversation.

Not as uncomfortable as I am waiting for it.

“All right…spill it,” she said. “What happened last night? I must’ve been really loud if I woke both of you up.”

He took one hand off the steering wheel and wiped the palm on his shorts. “You don’t remember any of it?”

“I kind of remember having a bad dream, but not any worse than usual,” she said, feeling more apprehensive by the second. What had she done during the night? Had she been sleep-walking?

“You have them all the time?”

“Not all the time. Lately, they only happen when I see something that triggers me. Like, I can’t watch those action flicks anymore—the ones with car-chase scenes and crashes. I used to love them.”

“That’s understandable.” His hands gripped the wheel, his knuckles whitening. “I’m sure it was pretty terrible when it happened…the accident…”

“Listen, Logan. I really don’t want you feeling sorry for me. I hate that. It makes me feel…My counselor said