Page 50 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

I knock firmly on the door.

The voices stop. The door swings open. Logan looks down at me, his expression a mix of irritation and surprise even though he knew to expect me.

“Olivia. Oh, um … thanks for stopping by.”

I pivot the box and hold it in front of me like a shield … or maybe an offering.

“All the material for Untethered,” I say, even though we both know what’s in the box.

Jacob stands behind Logan, a carefree smile on his face.

Logan sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks. Do you want to come in?”

Reluctantly, I step inside, carrying the box with me. Normally, I wouldn’t accept Logan’s invitation, but overhearing what I just did, I oblige him.

A small part of me tries to raise a red flag, but I disregard that warning for once. Logan’s not focused on taking me down. At least, not tonight, he’s not. From the way he’s looking at his brother, his chest nearly heaving with emotion, I’d say I’m definitely not the one who ought to be nervous right now. The tension in the room is palpable. Jacob, a scruffier, far less thoughtful version of Logan, walks up to me, a drink in his hand and a smirk on his face.

“Well, well,” Jacob drawls, eyeing me. “Good to see you again, Olivia.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you here for dinner too, Jacob?”

“Nah.” His voice is cavalier. “I’m living here for a bit. Nothing permanent. Just while I work out the kinks on these ventures … er, projects … inventions I’m pulling together.”

I look at Logan. Weariness fills his usually cocky features. His eyes practically plead with me—for what, I’m not sure—rescue? Empathy? A vow of silence? He’s got all that if I can give it.

Outside this room and this moment, we are still deadly rivals. But for now, I can set all that aside. And I will. Logan’s obviously overwhelmed. Possibly angry. Definitely embarrassed. Though, he has nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s not the one loafing at his parents’ home well into his twenties.

“What kind of inventions … or ventures are you talking about, Jacob?”

“It’s top secret. But I can trust you, can’t I, Olivia?”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“Well, the first one is scratch and sniff wallpaper.” Jacob’s face is dead serious. “Think about it. A house that smells good sells better on the market. They’re always telling people to bake bread or burn candles for open houses. So, scratch and sniff. You could hang the paper in the bathroom to act like an air freshener. Things like that.”

“Wow,” I say, glancing at Logan to gauge whether I should be impressed or concerned.

“Yeah,” Jacob’s tone fills with excitement. “I mean, your kids could have chocolate rooms, or cotton candy. Definitely not broccoli, am I right?” He laughs.

Logan’s face takes on the expression he gets when he’s all business.

“This is the first I’m hearing of this, specifically,” Logan says. “Do you have a business plan? Calculations for cost of production? A supplier? Factories? Distributors? Will the smell stay on the paper forever? Will it wear out over time?”

“The logistics of things like this take time,” Jacob says. “We’re still in the theoretical stage.”

“And you’re creating this while living in our parents’ home?”

“Hey, Steve Jobs created Apple while he lived at his parents’ house.”

“So you’re the next Steve Jobs?”

“This is going to be bigger than Apple. You watch and see.”

Logan doesn’t dignify Jacob with an answer.

“That’s not all,” Jacob says. “I’m also working on umbrellas to attach to dogs’ collars for rainy days. They’re called pupbrellas … and I’ve got thoughts about a robot who’ll fetch you drinks when you don’t feel like getting off the couch. That’s called Drink-Bot.”

Logan’s quiet. I can tell he’s trying not to answer.

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