The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2) - Jamie Beck Page 0,24
offered her the chance to redecorate my apartment in Chelsea, and after some thought, she said yes. Not that she had much choice, given the current financial state of her and Steffi’s business.”
“I’m happy for Steffi’s sake, but don’t use this job to pressure Claire.” Peyton pointed her index finger at him. “Do not fight my battle for me. That’ll only make it worse.”
He slung an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this under control.”
Logan lifted the thick manila envelope off the passenger seat and exited his car. From the sidewalk, he studied Claire’s Craftsman-style home, with its wide front porch, complete with a swing. He envisioned it in spring, imagining what flowers would pop up after the snow melted. What types of plants and grasses—in shades from green to yellow to blue—might frame the home? Would a pitcher of lemonade sit beside that swing, with Claire lying there reading a book while jazz played through an open window? The daydream filled him with nostalgia, like the whole world would slow down when you crossed the threshold.
His family’s life had always been hectic and big. In his youth, he’d wander the streets of town, hopping from one friend’s home to another, aware of the easy vibe and closer spaces within their four walls. Families who played board games while mothers cooked meatloaf. In those hours, he’d get to try on a lifestyle he’d never known, seeking answers the way a young girl dresses up in her mother’s pearls to learn how it feels to be a woman.
An unexpected bout of flutters arose as Logan trotted up the porch stairs and knocked on the door. For most of his life, Claire had been an adorable sweetheart of a girl who made him feel good about himself. But she’d changed.
Thinking back, he’d first noticed it when he’d run into her in town this past fall. He’d kept thinking about her after that brusque encounter on the street. Kept looking for her in town and checking his phone for messages, and not only because he wanted to help his sister. His heart had practically come to a standstill when he’d seen her name on his screen earlier.
The door opened. Claire looked prim as ever. Dark jeans. An extra-long powder-blue sweater with two box pockets on its front, pulled over a cream-colored turtleneck. Tasseled suede loafers. A single pearl in each ear. And Rosie in her left hand. That’s what everyone else would see, anyway.
He noted the catch in her breath. The curve of her heart-shaped face and the bow of her upper lip. The sprinkling of freckles across her nose and the tops of her cheeks. And those eyes. Always those guileless eyes.
“Punctual. That’s a nice surprise.” Her cheeks flushed by the time she finished speaking, and her gaze wandered away until it landed near her feet.
Oddly, this aroused him. Good God, would he start blushing next?
Chapter Five
Focus, Claire. For Pete’s sake, get it together.
But this was new territory. Logan had never been to her home—not as an adult. He’d been to her parents’ house back in the days when she and the Lockwoods and Prescotts had all run around together. It didn’t help to admit that she hadn’t gained much confidence around him since then, or that she couldn’t speak at the moment because her mouth felt like she’d just devoured a box of saltines.
Black jeans hugged his thighs, while a purple dress shirt spruced up the gray T-shirt underneath. The thick tread of his funky black ankle boots squeaked against the porch planks as he tried to knock the snow free. He looked exactly how she’d picture him dressed for a date, so he had to have plans after their meeting. A pinprick of jealousy pierced her stomach, spoiling the moment.
This girlish infatuation should fade now that they were both adults and working together. In no time at all, he’d go from being that unattainable boy of her childhood fantasies to a regular guy—one with flaws, like all the rest. “Come on in.”
“Thanks.” He wedged himself between her and the doorframe, brushing against her on his way inside, then patted her shoulder like she was some preppy elfin bouncer. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” Miraculously, she hadn’t melted into a puddle even though her insides turned to liquid in his presence. The brief contact made her body hum, raising another threat to keeping upright.
She leaned on Rosie and fought the urge to tug at her sweater, which she’d worn to appear nonchalant.