Three Hard Lessons (Blindfold Club 2)

“Good,” I snapped. “Me, too.”

Logan’s face softened. “Look, I’ve been where he is. I kept secrets from Evie and it was the dumbest thing I ever did. I almost lost her.”

“I remember.” In fact, I’d been one of the people pushing her to forgive him.

He put his hands on his hips. “It was . . . really hard when she asked for space, but it helped her find a way to forgive me.” Logan’s stare bore down. “So I told Dominic to give you space. And I know it’s none of my business, but do you think you might be able to, with some time?”

“Forgive him?” There was the $100,000 question, wasn’t it? “I don’t know.”

Logan pressed his lips together and nodded. Then he pulled a set of keys from h

is pocket and set them on the counter. “I got your car up into the triple digits on the Stevenson.”

My jaw fell. “You better be fucking joking.” It was impossible to tell with him sometimes.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk and his joke helped ease some of the tension from my weary body.

He glanced at his phone. “I should probably head back to work. Evie said we’re meeting for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah.” I took the keys and put them in my purse. “Thanks for your help.”

“Hey, anytime you want me to drive your car, I’m available.”

I followed him to the door, and as he stepped through it, the words tumbled from my mouth. “I want to.”

He paused. “What?”

“I want to forgive him. I just don’t know if I can.”

He looked startled, but it shifted to a pleased smile. “It always seemed to me that you, Payton, can get whatever you want.”

On Thursday I met Joseph for lunch. He had something he wanted to discuss, but didn’t want to do it over the phone. Maybe he wanted to apologize in person, but it wasn’t necessary. I knew it wasn’t personal.

“Where do you want to eat?” he’d asked.

“Anywhere that’s not Asian.”

So we picked a Mexican place near my apartment where the décor was a bit over the top, but the food was great. When I came in, Joseph was already seated at a table, wearing a sweater over a tie and dress shirt. He always looked professional, but today he looked . . . odd. Academic.

His dark eyes went large as he evaluated me. “You look different.”

I sat at the table. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been out of town for a while, and the earliest appointment I could get at the salon is tomorrow.” My hair color needed some serious help. But Joseph continued to look at me, confused. It was kind of annoying. “What?”

“You look older. And, honey, I don’t mean it in a bad way.”

Now I was really annoyed. “It’s been two months, not two years.”

Joseph’s eyes warmed. “I’m sorry about how I handled that night. I didn’t want to lose you, and lost control myself.”

I let out a breath. “You didn’t make him pay. I mean, more than the club’s cut. Why?”

There was surprise in his eyes. “You said what it would do to you, how it would make you feel. Payton, I’ve always given you what you needed, when I could.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I like doing it. You and I are a lot alike.”

It was at this moment I realized he looked different too. Not just the clothes, but faint, dark circles hung under his eyes. He looked . . . exhausted.