“Maybe.” She smiled sweetly.
“I’m not saying that women can’t be single and happy. I think lots of people are single and happy. But there’s an expiration date on it. I know people. And people are intrinsically happier when they’re in love or when they have someone to share things with. If you look at life, love is at the root of everything we do.” He shrugged. “It is the basis for ninety-nine percent of the songs on the radio. It’s at the heart of more than sixty-percent of movies and television. The clock on your happiness is ticking. Sooner or later, you’re going to want someone to love. You just don’t know it yet.”
Marti snorted. “That’s total BS.”
Logan’s eyes hardened on hers and his lips curved. She was jaded. Why on earth did it bug him so much?
“Maybe. Maybe not. But in my field of work, I’m around people all day, particularly women. Sometimes I get to know them quite well, and I know enough to see you have a barrier up the size of Texas. That’s why you don’t want someone in your life. Not some feminist agenda to live the single life. None of this Sex and the City crap. And once your friends all get hitched or find serious partners, they
’ll be so busy with their new lives that you will come second. It’s only natural. After a while, you’re going to want to be number one in someone’s life too. That’s not a negative thing. It’s just the way it is.”
“That’s absurd. Women don’t just ditch their friends once they get married. And for the record, the show Sex and the City was so popular because women want the single life—they dream about it—the life I have, the one I’m going to continue to build.”
He grunted. “That show is the worst thing that ever happened to women. It’s a fraud, just like your column, by the way.”
Her face tightened. The heat of her anger turned the tips of her ears red. How cute.
Better plow on while he had the chance. “The producers put the word single in the title and think everyone’s going to buy into this feminist ideology of what the single life is like and how great it is, when in fact, those women did nothing but look for men. They were never happy single. The entire show was about them dating, hooking-up, and falling in and out of love. Kind of like I imagine the content of your column, minus the love part.”
She sucked in a breath. The hollows of her cheeks deepened, razor sharp.
He knew he had her, but she’d never admit it. If he had learned anything about this woman in the last twenty minutes, it was about her pride. She had a lot of it, and he was guessing she didn’t admit defeat easily.
Her nostrils flared. “And what field, exactly, do you work in?” she snapped. “Are you a hair dresser or something? Do you work at a salon, coaxing women into spilling their life stories to you while massaging fifty-dollar shampoo into their scalps?”
He stifled a chuckle. If she only knew. . .
“Something like that. Maybe a bit less glamorous.”
“I guess you’re so great, then? Mr. Perfect. You’re not like 90% of men and a relationship-phobe? Just looking to get a woman in bed?”
“That’s a rather stereotypical view of men, don’t you think? One that is unfair and inaccurate. Men get a bad rap, in part fueled by ridiculous television like the show you mentioned.”
“Oh, okay.” She snickered. “So, you want all those generic things? I bet a woman barefoot and pregnant is your dream. I can just see you now, sipping your beer while she shines your shoes.”
“Oh, come on.”
Her mouth thinned and she lifted her chin in challenge.
“Fine.” He waved a hand in front of him. “If you’re asking if I want to get married and have a family of my own, I guess I do. I want it all. The relationship, commitment, kids.” He shrugged, unapologetic. She’d probably keel over from the shock of his words. “I guess I’m just that guy. The kind you, apparently, loathe.”
She turned and took a sip of her seltzer water, then stared across the bar, avoiding his gaze. “First of all, I don’t loathe men that want relationships. I just think they’re like unicorns, mythical at best. And secondly, is that why you’re at a bar on a Saturday night? Because this is the prime place to find the mother of your future children?”
Her words stabbed, hitting their mark, and his smile faded. “No, that wouldn’t be why I’m here. I had a long day, and like a lot of guys, I find a little relief in a good beer and friendly conversation.”
“Funny. I hadn’t realized this conversation was friendly,” she quipped.
He shook his head. “This isn’t my usual scene.”
“Oh, really? What is?”
“Just about anywhere else is classier. Usually, women in places like these are a little wanting.” His gaze slid down her body before meeting her eye again.
“Nothing but easy targets or walls up around here, is that right?” She raised a brow, her face a careful mask, but he knew better. She was two seconds away from snapping. Her defenses were so high he was surprised she could see over them.
He lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug and let it fall, trying to school his expression into one that said he didn’t care, while admittedly his insides clenched with regret. This was the most interesting conversation he’d had with a woman in a long time. It figured. He finally found a woman who valued honesty and kept him on his toes, and it was her—the ultimate commitment-phobe. With Allison, she was always saying the right thing and pretending to be something she wasn’t—placating him. Their whole relationship was a lie.
He thought about his next words. They would determine the tone for the rest of their conversation. He could play nice. Or he could say what he really wanted to say.