Page 35 of One Night in Paris

Two things caught my eye and piqued my interest. One was a corkboard over by his desk with lots of different photographs and mementos tacked to it. I couldn’t see what any of them were here for, but it told me a lot about who Logan was. He kept things that were important to him, and he kept them on display.

The other was a photograph of the Eiffel Tower. Large enough to take up a good section of wall across from the bed, it was a beautiful photo. Whoever had taken it had quite the eye. Though it was done in black and white, the detail was exquisite, and it was clear the picture had been taken at night with the iconic lights on.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Logan muttered, clearly seeing where my gaze had landed.

“Yes. I’ve always loved the tower, but that photo? It’s almost as powerful as seeing it in real life.”

“I took it when I visited Paris for the first time. Every time I look at it, I feel like I’m right back there, standing up, looking at the masterpiece for the first time.”

Pulling my gaze away from the picture to look at Logan, I saw the passion in his eyes he held for his art of architecture reflected in the way he looked at one of the most famous buildings in the world. It was so moving, it almost brought a tear to my eye.

When his eyes landed on my face, I mumbled, “Mom wants to see it someday.”

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion at first. I hadn’t told him enough for him to realize why that wouldn’t be possible for the foreseeable future, but then he worked it out. Reaching over, he ran his thumb along my cheek. “She will, Harper. I believe it. She will.”

Logan’s kindness had me welling up again. “Thank you.” My voice was just a whisper. Pulling me toward him, Logan situated me so that my head was on his shoulder. It felt nice, but it couldn’t last.

I wasn’t planning on staying the night with him because I needed to get home to Mom. Since I’d quit the diner, I’d been able to go home every night, which we both loved. She’d be worried if I didn’t make it back soon, despite my text that I was going out to dinner.

After several minutes passed, I found myself saying, “You’re my boss, Logan.”

“Yes, yes I am.” His tone was much more confident than mine. Assertive even.

“But… we just had sex. Again. That’s not appropriate, right?” I turned my head to gaze up at him.

The cocky grin on his face might’ve made anyone else look like a jerk, but Logan just appeared sure. “It’ll be fine, Harper.Don’t even worry about it. This week, we’ve proven that we can handle a working relationship and a more intimate one outside of work.”

Continuing to hold his gaze, I contemplated that. Maybe he was right. Or maybe he wasn’t, but for now, what was done was done.

“Do you have plans tomorrow?”

His question threw me off. Shaking my head, I said, “No, not really. First Saturday I’ve had off in a long time.”

“Wanna go to Coney Island with me? My friend Trevor and I are going tomorrow. You should totally come.”

Something about his tone suddenly made him sound like a kid, which had me giggling. I hadn’t been to an amusement park in ages.

But I didn’t want to be a third wheel either. “Uhm, sure, I’ll come. On one condition.”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“Kylee gets to come, too.”

“Kylee your friend from Paris who asked us to dance?” He smirked at me, and I nodded. “Okay. Sure. I bet she and Trevor will get along just great.”

With a grin on my face, I said, “Then it’s a date.”

19

LOGAN

The sound of someone knocking on my door woke me early the next morning. At first, I had no idea what was happening, having been lost in a dream—of Harper. But then, I remembered she’d left the night before, saying she needed to go check on her mom. She’d promised she’d be back, though, for our trip to Coney Island.

Groggily, I stumbled through my apartment, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. My head was still foggy and my eyes struggled to adjust to the dim morning light as I made my way to the door. Finally reaching it, I fumbled with the lock before managing to open it.

Harper was standing on the other side of the threshold, her bright eyes telling me she’d been awake for a while. That other girl, whatever her name was, stood behind her. Confused, I ran a hand through my hair. What time was it?

“Good morning, Logan.” Harper smiled up at me. “I hope we didn’t wake you, did we?”

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