Another slap. His hair flew the other way.
“Okay...that sounds like Lexi.” His eyes watered involuntarily as Logan stepped back with a self-satisfied grin. A second later, Dylan was grinning as well. “That was it?”
“Well, there was a nicer part to it,” Logan said dryly, “but we don’t really know each other well enough for all that. Maybe on our next visit.”
Dylan chuckled under his breath, wincing again as he looked his brother up and down with an appraising smile. “You hit pretty fucking hard for a suit. You feel better?”
Logan stuck his hands in his pockets, grinning all the while. The crazy thing was, he actually did. He felt a lot better. The night air had cleared away some of his drunken stupor, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he felt very much alive. His skin was flushed, his heart was racing, and he was able to see the humor in things. Able to see the fun.
“Much. In fact, I think I could get used to being you.” He flashed his brother a mischievous grin. “At any rate, I’d come back with a few stories...”
He expected Dylan to laugh. Expected him to at least smile. But Dylan was doing none of those things. Quite the contrary, he was looking at Logan like he’d never quite seen him before.
“Yeah. You would.” His head tilted ever so slightly to the side, as an indecipherable expression flitted across his handsome face. “So would I.”
A little light started twinkling in his eyes. Growing
brighter by the moment.
“Logan...how would you feel about going on a little vacation?”
Chapter 9
“Switch places? Are you serious? You actually want to switch places?!”
Logan and Dylan sat in an all-night coffee house across the street. Trying to sober up in the bright, caffeinated fluorescence. The espresso was doing wonders for one of them. The other had yet to touch his cup.
“Just for two weeks,” Dylan answered quickly, nudging Logan’s mug coaxingly into his hands. “Two weeks, then we go back to our old lives. No one will be the wiser.” His brother flashed a doubtful look, that he returned with a persuasive smile. “Oh, come on—it’ll be perfect. You want to know what it’s like to live the regular nine-to-five domestic, I want to know what it’s like to play on a five-million-dollar yacht. Win-win! What do you think?”
“I think you read too much Mark Twain as a child.”
Dylan paused a moment, then his face lightened with a look of sunny understanding.
“The Prince and Pauper. Solid reference.” His smile dimmed a bit. “Although I’m not wild about the ‘pauper’ comparison. It’s construction, Logan. Not ditch-digging.”
Logan ignored this, focusing on the bigger problem. “We can’t just switch lives, Dylan. It’s not like swapping cars. People are going to notice.”
“Like who?” Dylan leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t have a steady girlfriend, no one regular who might check up on me. And from the sounds of it, you don’t either. We’ll both take a two-week hiatus from our jobs—because there’s no way in hell you could handle mine—and you’ll send your staff on an all-expense paid cruise. It’s perfect. And I’m going to teach you how to be fun again.”
Logan opened his mouth for an automatic retort, then stopped suddenly—circling back.
“Wait a second—you think I couldn’t handle your job?” He stared across the table with a reluctant grin, blown away by his brother’s brazen arrogance. “You think you could handle the day to day operations of an international corporation, but I’d have trouble swinging a hammer?”
Dylan stared back with brotherly patience. “I think you’ve knocked over the salt shaker three times since we sat down. Yeah—little brother. I think you’re a klutz.”
“I am not—”
“But our jobs aren’t going to be a factor—this isn’t about that,” Dylan continued. “It’s about everything else. It’s about what happens the second we’re off the clock.”
Off the clock. Logan was sure he had heard that phrase somewhere before, he just couldn’t quite remember where. Wherever it was, he was pretty certain it didn’t exist down in Florida.
“Think about it...” Dylan’s eyes twinkled as his brother began to waver, reaching out to grab him by the wrists. “When was the last time you took a late-night stroll? Went on a casual date, saw a random movie? Hell—when’s the last time you slept in past seven am?”
Logan stared down at the table, unable to believe he was actually listening to what the man was proposing. Unable to believe it was actually starting to make sense.
“You need a break from your life. Come enjoy life in my shoes. You want to cut back on that hundred-hour work week and smell the roses? I have a nest of them in my backyard.” Dylan’s face tightened thoughtfully. “On that note, you’ll have to water them. Oh—and my dog. You’ll have to take care of my dog.”
Logan glanced up warily. He didn’t do well with animals.