Pistol Whipped - Ashley Bostock Page 0,9
it now was just as silly as feeling the way she had that day. Pointless. She knew Logan hadn’t been looking at her the way she perceived but it made her feel like a wanted woman none-the-less.
Her phone pinged with an incoming text. Logan. Come have a drink with me? I leave tomorrow. That’s right. She had forgotten he was going back to New York for a while to scope out the lay of the land at his father’s law firm. She wished she could. She sent him a message back happily informing him she was finally seeing the chef tonight. As happy as she was, she felt disappointed that she couldn’t see Logan, too. About time, I suppose. Tell him I said hello. She laughed out loud at his sarcasm, being sure to say in her message back that she would let Cody know how much Logan missed him. Another incoming message, this time from the man himself. Sorry it’s last minute. Something came up, can’t meet.
Seriously? Her hopes dwindled. She had been so excited all afternoon and now this?
Sorry. Can’t be helped. Rain check?
She wanted to say no thanks, but this was how their lives were—unpredictable. She was okay with that.
Yes, a rain check it is.
Gabbie quickly texted Logan back. The chef bailed. Still up for a drink?
Almost immediately she got Logan’s text. Come over.
Well alrighty then. Logan’s it was. She did a quick walk-through once more, as was always her habit, and turned the lights off, locked up and headed to Logan’s.
Chapter Six
Logan drained the last of his beer. He tossed it into the trash and grabbed another out of the fridge. He hated feeling like this. He felt like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and it didn’t change the fact that he didn’t know exactly what he wanted to do.
He’d been practicing law for only a few years, so it wasn’t like his clientele was huge by any means. He formed LLC’s and did a variety of work for the local banks and credit union. Nothing fancy in Manhattan terms. Nothing keeping him here, as Jack would say. Which was mostly true. Logan had his mom and stepfather, his older brother, Luke, and of course, a handful of friends. Then there was Gabriella. He was no longer sure which category to put her in, friend or family.
Aside from what he would be leaving, he didn’t know exactly how he felt about getting everything handed to him. He knew it happened all the time. The parents would be successful in their business and the children would get everything handed to them on a silver platter. He watched enough reality shows about celebrities to know that it happened exactly that way. Born to succeed. The problem was, Logan wasn’t sure if he was above or below that line of thinking. Was it wrong that parents were successful and only wanted their hard work to live on and be appreciated by their offspring? Was is wrong for children to accept their parents hard work and take over it as if it were their own? Eventually it would be, but all the groundwork had been laid out for them ahead of time.
The fact of the matter was money.
Did Logan have so much pride to say no to potential millions? Did he think he had enough worth to make these clients happy? Was that the real problem? Logan not believing in himself? He was saved from further thoughts when Gabriella barged through his front door.
She was wearing a short red dress that cinched at her hips and pulled down into a deep vee across her chest. She looked…angry. Beautiful, but angry.
“I am so annoyed I could spit!” She spewed. In her hands, she held her favorite adult beverage—wine coolers. Wimpy as ever. She was also cute when she was mad, and she looked cute as ever holding the tiny four-pack. He wanted to laugh. But the evilness in her eyes forced him not to.
“Spit then, Senorita.” Logan walked over withdrawing Gabriella’s beverage of choice from her hands. “I can’t believe you still drink this crap. It’s so…newbie, if you know what I mean.”
“Well, beer,” she gestured to his bottle, “will put unwanted weight on my hips and everything else gets me crazy drunk. Remember? One tequila, two tequila—”
“—Yeah, yeah, I remember. So why are you so mad? Because of the chef?”
She blew out a deep breath, her nose crinkling. “Yes! Which I shouldn’t care about because