The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2) - Jamie Beck Page 0,39
bathroom renovation might be one of Claire’s favorite projects to date. Its massive glass shower stall, complete with a built-in bench seat and ledges for soap and shampoo, could easily fit two people. His-and-her vanities flanked opposite walls. And the giant white soaker tub situated in an alcove beneath a large arched window added a romantic old-world touch to the renovated room.
There it was again. Romance on the brain.
Spending the past hour in this intimate space with Logan had produced many fantasies. Heart-pounding, hot flash kinds of daydreams that forced her to fan herself whenever he wasn’t looking. Not that she would’ve traded this afternoon for anything. Time alone with Logan would quickly become addictive if she didn’t keep reminding herself that he had his own agenda and, soon enough, he’d be gone. Still, while he was here, she couldn’t quite bring herself to push him away.
He snapped the bag shut and started to remove the scrim he’d put in the windows to diffuse the sunlight reflecting off the marble surfaces and mirrors. “Too bad we didn’t have real movement in these frames, but without a human element, there wasn’t much I could do about that.”
The tension of stifled creativity rolled off him.
“Thank you for doing this for us, Logan. I’m grateful.” More than grateful. After years of picturing him at work, her now bearing witness to him pacing the floor, considering angles, and setting up shots added new data to her mental dossier. Images she’d be able to revisit once she reached the safe space of her bedroom.
Before today, she’d always envisioned him working with more swagger, his formerly long hair falling across his brow, a half smirk of a smile as he chose his shots, flirty banter with anyone on the set. In reality, he’d focused on the task to the point where she’d felt invisible except for when he’d asked her if she had a preference for what to feature, or if she could move something from one place to another.
He snapped his fingers. “Earth to Claire.”
“Oh, sorry!” She jerked to attention. “Just thinking about what to do with these.”
She lifted the square vase off the vanity and dashed into the master bedroom, putting much-needed distance between herself and Logan before he caught on to her thoughts. She eyed the long dresser but then set the vase on the mirrored nightstand next to a romance novel. Perfect.
“Are you leaving those here?” Logan stood in the doorway between the bedroom and bathroom with his camera bag slung over his shoulder, the tripod case in his other hand, and a gentle smile on his face.
Another rush of warmth flooded her while she stared at him from beside the large bed, with its sumptuous silk bedding and thick down pillows, and tried not to imagine him standing there in nothing but a towel. “It’s a little thank-you for letting us invade their home again.”
His expression turned cocky. “I told you people would be happy to let me shoot their space.” When he winked, she swallowed hard. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about our bet.”
She cleared her throat. “I haven’t heard back from the Wagners yet.”
“I’m not worried.”
“You should be. Mary isn’t a big fan of having ‘strangers’ in her house.”
“Still not worried.” He strolled into the bedroom. “You can’t deny that we make a great team. And seeing this space only makes me happier that I’ve hired you to redo my place. How ’bout we go grab lunch to reward ourselves for a job well done?”
Yes.
“No, thanks.” When he winced, she elaborated. “I’m meeting my mother to make homemade mac and cheese and a cake for my gram. It’s her birthday. She’s eighty-eight.”
“Mac and cheese?” He grinned.
Mac and cheese was no laughing matter in the McKenna house. “With ham and peas. Her favorite.”
“Eighty-eight.” He whistled. “That’s some longevity.”
“A by-product of close family ties,” Claire blurted, a saying her mom repeated often.
In all the years she’d been friendly with Peyton and Logan, she’d never met their grandparents. The Prescott side had died before she moved to town, and their maternal grandparents had lived in California. “Do you miss your grandparents?”
“We saw my mom’s parents only at the holidays, but they never stayed long. And it’s no secret that my dad didn’t respect his father. They couldn’t even get along, so that was always uncomfortable.”
“That’s a shame, especially when there was so much to be thankful for and enjoy.”
“Well, I don’t miss what I never had. Prescott parent-child bonds aren’t as tight as