Page 39 of The Wanderer

Time enough to kick his ass later.

Chapter Nineteen

Logan had acted like an asshole again. But that fucking watch had been a trigger for a deeply repressed anger, even if Hope didn't know it.

The moment he'd lifted the lid on that box and saw the glittering silver and gold wristband, the mother of pearl face with exquisitely detailed numbers, he'd been catapulted back in time to his fourteenth birthday.

Stephen had actually come home for once, making a special trip for his birthday. Logan had been annoyed and ecstatic simultaneously: annoyed that his mum would spiral yet again when Stephen left and ecstatic because his dad might love him after all. Because his gift proved it, right?

They'd never had a lot of money, so when his dad gave him a shiny new watch that cost more than the family's second-hand car, Logan had been blown away. He'd considered that watch a symbol of hope, that if his dad could afford something so expensive he must be finally succeeding with his career and would be home more often.

His euphoria had lasted a week.

Not only had Stephen left in the middle of the night, he'd taken Logan's prized watch with him.

His note had been brief: he had a golden opportunity to travel to New Zealand to do a stand-up show in Wellington that could propel his career internationally, but he couldn't afford the airfare so needed to pawn the watch, promising to get it back as soon as he had the money.

Logan never saw the watch again.

He didn't want to. He didn't want tangible proof that his father was a shallow, narcissistic bastard who only cared about his needs and didn't give a flying fuck about his son or wife.

That had been the beginning of the end for Logan. On his father's yearly visit home Logan made himself scarce. He couldn't stomach seeing the man who killed his dreams of actually having a dad who cared; and who eventually killed his mum too with his callous disregard.

Seeing Hope's gift brought all the old resentment flooding back.

Was her gift a way to buy his affection too?

It stuck in his craw, the way she tried to suck him into her world. The elegant apartment, the posh restaurant, the exorbitant gift. Not that it was her wealth that bothered him, he had more than enough zeroes in his bank account to match hers, but that whole moneyed scene left him cold.

He didn't need tangible proof to know he'd made it. Give him a night in his humble two-bedroom house in front of the TV watching the footy and nursing an ice-cold beer rather than any of the fancy palaver in Hope's world.

Though he'd reacted badly to the watch, and even now, two hours later, shame made his gut gripe. Or maybe that had more to do with the four beers he'd downed on an empty stomach. He'd tried watching a footy talk show, a replay of last week's game, even the last quarter of the Kangaroos Grand Final win in 1999. Nothing soothed him.

He should apologise to Hope but what was the point? They were over. He'd be moving on to Sydney next week to quote a new job. Better they end it now.

Before…what? Before he felt something more than lust for her? Before he divulged the whole truth behind his moods lately? Before he blurted that she was the only woman he'd ever met who made him contemplate doing the unthinkable: staying in a city for once?

He couldn't say any of that let alone admit it to himself and he lashed out at the nearest inanimate object, an old armchair, giving the rickety leg a resounding kick. The resulting throb in his big toe wasn't worth it. Cursing his stupidity, he crushed the empty beer can in his fist and lobbed it into the trash in the corner as a loud pounding started on his door.

Nobody visited him, ever. In fact, not many knew his address, apart from Rick and the post office, which redirected his mail more often than not. And he certainly didn't receive visitors at ten p.m.

Disgruntled, he trudged to the door and yanked it open, shocked to find Hope glaring at him with open hostility.

"You better let me in." She jabbed a finger in his direction. "Otherwise I'll throw stones at every one of your windows, not caring if they break or not."

Logan bit back a smirk. While he wasn't pleased to see her, was there anything more magnificent than a riled woman in full confrontation mode?

Her eyes flashed fire, her cheeks flushed, and her chest heaved, her breasts straining the silk of her dress. Her rigid nipples stuck out like neons to her passion, even if it was anger in this case, and his dick reacted even while his head insisted ‘down boy’.

"Come in." He opened the door and stepped back, waving her in with an exaggerated flourish. "I don't intend to call out a glazier in the middle of the night."

"Wise choice."

She sailed past him, leaving a cloud of her expensive floral fragrance in her wake. He loved that smell, a heady mix of jasmine, rose, and something deeper, maybe vanilla mixed with musk…whatever it was, whenever he smelled those flowers in the future he'd think of her.

He closed the door and followed her into his humble living room, barely big enough for the both of them. Before she could speak he held up his hand. "Don't waste your breath talking about the watch. It was a nice thought but I can't accept it, end of story."

A frown slashed her elegant brows. "It was nothing more than an expression of gratitude, that's it—"

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