Page 73 of Wild Catch
“Well, neither am I, Logan.” I give him a pointed stare, just in case he has forgotten that this is all pretend.
He takes a deep breath and expels it before saying, “I know.” I try not to frown. He doesn’t have to agree to it quite so quick. But then he adds, “Which is why I freaked out whentheyinsisted on meeting you. I think they know it’s not real and want to confirm it.”
“Hmm.” I fold my arms loosely as I ponder. “Maybe they’re worried that I’m a gold digger or something.”
“Or they want to use this against me somehow.”
I lift my eyes up sharply. “Would they?”
“Absolutely,” he responds with certainty in a sinister voice.
Then their door opens and out they come, and the only change is that Freja has discarded her silver sneakers for heels that would max out my credit card.
“Shall we?” TJ asks, placing his hand at the small of his wife’s back. She leans into his side and looks up at him adoringly.
So far, all I’ve found to fault them with his how saccharine they are. But Logan’s shoulders are still as tense as the wires that hold up the Golden Gate.
He leads the way for us out of the apartment and into the elevator, still not saying a word even though his parents engage in small talk. I try my best to follow the advice of not talking about myself—and definitely not about Logan—and turn into a veritable acrobat as I dodge their questions and turn them around.
I ask about their journey, which I discover was via private jet, and whether they were comfortable. I ask how long they’re staying and whether they have plans in town, and they surprise me by saying they intend to visit the parks the next few days. I’d have thought that would be beneath a supermodel who has traveled all over the world, and also beneath a man whose country is way more modern than anything we have to offer around here.
Logan is happy to fall back and just casually chime with directions whenever we have to turn or keep heading straight, and as his parents shift their conversation between them, I slow down to match my steps with my alleged boyfriend.
“You doing okay?” I whisper.
He blinks slowly and admits, “No. Waiting for the explosion any second.”
It can’t be that bad, I think glancing at his parents.
Or can it?
“So…” I trail off, trying to think of anything to distract him with. Something comes to mind as I watch them. “I think we need to make a bit more of an effort to look like a couple.”
Logan angles his face to look at me. “What do you mean?”
“Look at them.” I point at his parents with my lips. “They’re all handsy with each other. Won’t they think something’s up if we keep a six foot distance from each other all the time?”
His eyes narrow on his dad’s hand still at the small of his mom’s back. “They’re just putting on a show. That’s not real.”
“Neither are we.” I smile, nudging his ribs with my elbow.
Logan turns back to the front, and for a long moment I’m sure he’s going to ignore me. But then he mutters, “I told you, you’re the one making the calls here. Do what you want.”
That shouldn’t make me excited. My pulse shouldn’t spike this much—but it sure as hell does. If this whole Logan having a girlfriend thing is a big deal, I’m going to play the part of the most in love girlfriend there ever was.
We reach the restaurant, one of those fancy ones that are tucked away from the main roads downtown, and that I could never in a million years consider eating at. A host leads us to a table somewhere in the middle, and enough people to turn to watch our party that I realize this is when we need to start putting a show.
I sidle up to Logan’s side, molding myself with surprising ease to his hard body. He stops in mid step, glancing down at me with some surprise. I hold his eyes in mine as I circle my arm around his waist, and he inhales sharply.
“Now you do the same,” I command in a volume only for his ears.
He frowns. “But your damn back is basically naked.”
“Does a little skin intimidate the great Logan Kim?”
He rolls those clever eyes of his and next thing I know, his hand is on the small of my back and I’m the one who’s dying.
Maybe I shouldn’t have teased him. I certainly wasn’t prepared for the torrent of sensation expanding like wildfire through my skin, all the way down to my toes and up to my cheeks.
