I started loading the plates into the dishwasher now. “Does she know that?”
“She’s here on a six-month visa. We both knew it was temporary. Would you turn around? I hate talking to your back.”
I braced myself and spun around, leaning against the counter for support. “Unless she’s dreaming of the rough-around-the-edges Scotsman popping the question.”
Logan stared at me like I was nuts.
I gave a huff of unamused laughter. “What? You don’t think women think like that? Many women have romantic fantasies and notions, and as much as we understand the reality of a situation, there’s always these little things called imagination and hope, and they make us think crazy things such as wanting a manwhore nightclub manager to marry us and give us a permanent visa.”
Logan processed this. “No?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, well, it’s definitely finished, then.”
“The horror. However will you find your next booty call?”
Logan burst into laughter and got up off the stool. Still laughing, he took his empty plate and put it in the dishwasher. When he stood up, we were way too close for my liking. He grinned. “Thanks for dinner.”
I watched him walk away, thinking perhaps I hated him a little, and I hated myself for hating him when it wasn’t his fault I had feelings for him.
“Oh and, Grace.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t ever say ‘booty call’ again.”
CHAPTER 12
“Do I know you?” Chloe dragged her gaze down the length of me and back up again with exaggerated attitude.
“Don’t.” I sighed and slipped onto the stool next to her at the bar. After Logan had left, I’d called Chloe to arrange an emergency night out. I needed a drink and I needed my friend. I did not, however, need her to be snarky. “I know I’ve been preoccupied lately and I’m sorry, but…” I trailed off. The truth was, I really hadn’t been the greatest friend. “Actually, I’m just sorry.”
Chloe made a face. “You got yourself a life, Grace. There’s nothing to be sorry for. I was just teasing.”
The bartender interrupted. “What can I get you?”
I slumped, leaning my elbow on the bar and my chin in the palm of my hand. “Talisker and ginger ale, please.”
Chloe sucked in her breath beside me. “You’re on the whisky? Okay, whose head do I need to be cracking?”
“Mine.” I groaned and squeezed my eyes closed. “Shit, Chloe. I’m letting myself fall for Logan MacLeod and I need you to help me stop.”
“I knew it!”
My eyes popped open to glare at her. “No gloating.”
She hid her smile behind her glass and took a sip of the fruity-looking cocktail she was drinking.
“Stop smiling.”
She huffed. “Right, you grumpy cow. Tell me why I’m stopping you from falling for Mr. MacLeod. I saw a picture of him on Facebook. Can I just say… wow.”
My brows puckered. “Facebook?” How on earth did she find him on Facebook? Logan had a Facebook account? That didn’t sound right.
“I friended Maia after we talked on the phone the other day and —”
“You talked to Maia?”
“Yes. When I called you, she picked up. We had a wee chat. She’s a cutie.”
Trust Chloe to make friends with Maia after one conversation. “So you added her to your Facebook? You do know you’re thirteen years older than her?”