Page 44 of Meet Me in the Valley
A plane roars overhead, loud and low, drawing both of our eyes to the sky. We smile at each other, a quiet moment of peace before goodbye.
“Where are they going?” he calls out to me, walking backwards toward the automatic doors, pointing up at the fading silhouette.
I force a laugh—thin and cracked—but somehow it still escapes from somewhere deep inside me.
“Vegas!” I yell back, voice catching at the end.
His smile hits me like a punch because I know I won’t see it for a while—and because I know it still affects me more than it should. It burns and soothes at the same time.
Lying to Logan hurt. But not nearly as much as lying to myself.
He winks, gives a small wave, and vanishes behind the automatic doors.
I don’t even wait until he’s out of sight. I miss him instantly.
“Lady! You gotta get moving! Can’t park here!” an airport attendant shouts at me, and I give him an apologetic nod before hopping into the driver’s seat.
I adjust my seat to my height, filling my lungs with his lingering scent. The steering wheel is still warm from his hands, and I close my eyes briefly to commit his touch to memory.
Those same hands squeezing into my hips, the warmth of his fingertips on the small of my back. And I wish in that moment—I would’ve told him the fucking truth.
Chapter Thirteen
LOGAN
I stare blankly at my computer screen, reading an email from a client line by line without retaining a single word from it. It’s been three days since I left Oakwood Valley, and it seems each time I leave, the harder it gets. With each passing year, my heart slowly gets pulled out West, and I ache to put down roots where the vineyards are plenty and the valleys are endless.
I’m a mess of emotions lately, unable to shake the woman who has completely thrown my world into another universe. I’ve tried my damn best not to let her ‘we’re just friends’ moment at the airport affect me, but I’m failing miserably. I’m sleeping like shit, I’m confused as fuck, and worst is—I’m disappointed.
Something shifted this past weekend between us, and it’s been moving in a direction I didn’t see coming. I’ve never wanted more than a week at a time with a woman. But the one woman in my life who I can stand to be around almost twenty-four seven is 1,500 miles away and only sees me as a friend.
My heart nearly fell out of my chest when she denied what she said that night of the bonfire. She tells me she loves me as a friend, but her body tells me otherwise. I saw it in her eyes, screaming at me to see her differently.
And I fucking did. I saw her. All of her. And now, I can’t seem to go back to how it was before—it’s driving me insane.
I’ve been at the office all of two hours, and I’m already wishing the clock would strike five so I can get home and crack open a cold one.
I sulk behind the safety of my desk, hiding from my co-workers and Roy.
I catch sight of Krista bending over, perfectly positioned right at the edge of my vision. She moves in slow motion, taking her sweet time deliberately picking up the stylus she conveniently “dropped.”
As she rises up, ass out and back arched, she looks over her shoulder and throws me a tiny wink. I see the faint shadows of the crease where her ass meets her thighs. No panties in sight.
Roy should send her home for wearing that skirt. It violates the dress code that doesn’t even exist anymore, because businesses are so damn progressive these days.
And sure, I’m grateful I don’t have to show up in a suit and tie every day, but God, I wish she’d wear a nun’s habit. Or a trash bag. Anything other than the tight blouses and short-as-fuck skirts she taunts me with.
I look down at the traitor between my legs. He, unfortunately, reacts—twitching beneath my slacks like he doesn’t care how much shame is riding shotgun. Inwardly, I groan, dragging my hands down my face. The guilt hits hard, sharp and familiar.
This—this—is exactly why I’d never be good enough for Tia.
She deserves the best. And the best meansbetter than me.
So much better than me.
I have earbuds in to give the impression I’m not available, but that doesn’t stop Krista from sauntering over, perching herself on the corner of my desk like an offering.
Her skirt rides up mid-thigh as she crosses one leg over the other, my eyes level to her hips. I stare a little too long at her exposed skin before bringing my gaze to hers, feeling like an asshole with every lingering glance. She bites her lip and smiles at me, and if I weren’t in such a shit mood, I’d maybe find it attractive.
