I tried not to gape at his words. He seemed so certain. As if our future together was a guarantee. I felt as if I should say something, remind him that the future was never secure. It could change in a heartbeat. Except, somehow, I knew he would simply smile and tell me that was what had already happened.
So instead, I agreed. “Okay.”We walked for hours, talking about nothing and everything. I discovered he was my age and his birthday was a month after mine. Logan informed me today was favorite day, so we shared all our favorites. Colors. Ice cream. Movies. Songs. He peppered me with questions, and I volleyed right back. We stopped in a park and got hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and whipped cream, because Logan insisted that was the only way to drink it.
We sat on a bench, sipping the warm treat, watching people, enjoying the cold and each other’s company.
“What is your favorite day?” he asked, looking sideways as he sipped his hot chocolate.
Without thinking, I replied, “Today.”
He turned on the bench and kissed me. He tasted like chocolate, snow, happiness, and Logan. He commanded my mouth effortlessly, his tongue sliding along mine in sensuous passes, his lips firm. He cupped my cheek with his large hand, his fingers stroking and warming my cheek as he caressed me. He broke away, his breathing fast. “Good answer.”
“Good kiss.”
He nudged the end of my nose. “Lots more of those for you if you want them, Lottie.”
Then he pressed his forehead to mine. “Now, today aside, what is your favorite kind of day? Tell me what you would do if you woke up and had an entire day of nothing planned.”
“Make a pot of coffee, curl up in my chair, and read until I didn’t want to read anymore. Have a long, leisurely bath and read some more. Order noodles and dumplings and eat them with my fingers. Have a nap. Watch the snow. Keep my mind empty. No work, no clients, nothing but the music I would have playing, the scent of the candles I would burn, and my comfiest pj’s and fuzzy socks on my feet. Bake something.”
“You like to bake?”
“I love baking. It’s my favorite thing to do. Always has been.” I felt shy as I continued. “I wanted to be a pastry chef when I grew up.”
He frowned but didn’t react to that statement. Instead, he tapped his chin.
“What if it was the summer?”
“Hmm. I’m not big on the sun, but a shaded tree beside the water, my book, and lots of iced tea to drink, and I’d be happy.”
“Would you swim?”
“Yes, to cool off. Maybe float a bit.”
“No pj’s, I assume.” He grinned.
“No, shorts and a tank top I can let dry between my swims.”
“Sounds good.”
“What about you?” I asked. “What would your favorite day be?”
He lifted my hand and kissed the palm. “Being with you and enjoying your day. My head on your lap as you read. Scrubbing your back in the tub. Feeding you the noodles. Holding you in the water. Singing for you. Watching the candlelight flicker on your face. Any of it, as long as it was doing nothing—with you.”
My breath caught.
It was too soon for him to say that. It was just too much.
And yet, I couldn’t stop smiling.Chapter 6LottieMy phone began to ring nonstop around two. I set it to silent, but even Logan felt the constant vibration.
“Why don’t you answer it?”
I knew he was right. My father would keep calling until I answered, and the longer I stalled, the worse it would be.
I stopped and pulled out my phone. “Hello, Charles.”
Logan raised his eyebrow, and I shrugged. My father liked it professional during business hours.
My father didn’t bother with a greeting—his voice frosty and curt. “I told you to come in for the meeting. Not only did you not show up, you didn’t have the courtesy to call. All because you had a few cramps? And I’ve been calling for over twenty minutes. You don’t have enough respect to pick up the phone when your boss calls?”
I turned from Logan, not wanting him to see my embarrassment. I was sure he could hear my father’s words and the tone he was using.
“I told you this morning I wouldn’t be in. Everything I had for the meeting was on my desk.”
“Luckily, Steve found it.”
I rolled my eyes. My file wasn’t hard to find and virtually empty. It was yet another meeting I was made to attend that really didn’t impact me, but my father insisted. “I don’t understand. I took a sick day—the first one in three years—and I still made sure my work was covered. Was there a problem at the meeting?”
“Not the point,” my father stated. “Why weren’t you answering the phone?”
“I went for a walk to get some fresh air and pick up a couple of things. I forgot my phone.”