The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2) - Jamie Beck Page 0,23
His story—the one he had yet to figure out—to tell. He couldn’t stop seeking it even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. And yet . . .
“When can you get those to me?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“Are you sure you don’t want to take a trip to the city? I’ll even throw in a great lunch.” He held his breath. Claire had a well-established sweet tooth. He knew a French bistro in his neighborhood that had amazing desserts.
“No. I can’t do that. I understand if that’s a problem, and like I said before, there are plenty of fantastic designers in New York.” Those blunt words left no wiggle room. He backed away from that fight and tried a different tack, enjoying the tug-of-war, picturing her squaring her shoulders while biting her lip.
“But I want you.” He grinned at the effect those words might have on her. He’d bet she was blushing. “You’ve known me forever, so you’re uniquely positioned to transform my place into a home.”
“I’m not a magician,” came her droll reply. She then cleared her throat. “Kidding.”
Nicely played, Claire. “So you are a magician?”
He could hear her smile through the phone. That warmed him despite another gust of late-winter wind.
“Pretty close. So when will you be able to get me the pictures and dimensions?”
He’d need to move fast so she couldn’t rethink her decision. “How about tonight. Dinner?”
Water splattered beside him as icicles melted from the eaves of the house. He squinted in the sunlight reflecting off the snow. There were no buildings or people as far as the eye could see—a change of pace from his hurried life. Things looked and sounded so different when surrounded by so much quiet space.
“That’s not necessary.”
“No, but it might be nice. Friendly. We can be friendly, can’t we?”
He waited, his eyes taking note of the interesting shapes of blue shadows cast onto the snow-covered lawn by the house behind him. Shadows intrigued him. Always had. Like how they become blurrier the wider the light source.
After a brief sigh, she said, “I suppose.”
“Don’t overwhelm me with your enthusiasm.” He chuckled.
“It’s just . . . I don’t want to be the subject of gossip, Logan.”
“Is this town so dull that us sharing a pizza stirs up gossip?”
“Everyone who knows me will ask what’s going on with us and your sister, and . . . I would rather not have to fend off those questions. Can we please keep things professional for now?”
For now. He couldn’t deny such an honest plea.
Small-town life seemed such a strange world to him after living in Manhattan for the past decade. A city where he could be anonymous in his own building, let alone neighborhood. Where he could share his pizza naked with a harem and not raise an eyebrow.
“Fine. I’ll see you at seven at your house.” He hung up before she could refuse the offer, and smiled, knowing he’d probably just pushed a few of her buttons.
He liked playing with Claire. She looked cute when she turned pink and her eyes lit up with challenge. Then again, that call must’ve been hard for her to make. His offer had put her in a difficult spot, as he’d known it would. She’d done the right thing even though it had to hurt, just like she always did. He admired the hell out of her for that while choosing to ignore what his behavior said about him.
His hands and nose were frozen, so he ducked back inside to find Peyton. If Claire could muster courage over and again, surely his sister could this once, too.
When he returned to the living room, she had stacked some rejects in one pile and was stuffing the keepers into the portfolio they were using to keep organized.
He clapped his hands together. “You’ve decided?”
“We’ll keep going forward. I’ll work from my journal today and see how far I can get.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “If I were less ambivalent, it would improve the tone of the writing. I haven’t found my voice for this project.”
He got that. Some projects flowed like a good dream, while others required a lot more plotting, planning, and pep talks to mine the passion. “You will.”
She shrugged. “Who called?”
Long ago, he and Peyton had made a pact with each other that included a promise never to lie. Even though he was sure a white lie might be the better call at the moment, he kept his word. “Claire.”