Page 21 of Mine to Love

Enough with the hooker analogies!

I thumb through the hangers in my closet and pick a crimson-colored scoop neck blouse that accentuates my breasts and make my eyes sultry and sexy. At least, that’s what Emerson had said when she popped in the credit union with lunch a few months ago and I was wearing it.

It’s been a few days since I shaved my legs, but I don’t expect anyone to get close enough to notice. I run my hand up and down my calf and kick my foot up on the bathroom counter for closer inspection.

“Not too bad.” I apply a layer of lotion, and while it dries, I take extra care with my hair and makeup. I don’t want to go over the top and make it noticeable that I’m dressing a little more...aggressively than usual, so I stick with clothing, make up, and a hairstyle I’ve worn before.

Besides, it isn’t likely that Logan will even stop into the bank today. Or tomorrow. Or ever. I may never have to see his pretty boy eyes and dominant jawline again.

Well, other than at Emerson and Holden’s wedding next month. There will be an open bar and a dance floor, which will keep me occupied. No way will strait-laced Logan Pierce get down and dirty on a dance floor.

In the front seat of his car...

“Enough,” I warn myself in my bathroom mirror and apply a final coat of mascara. There are times when being vain and materialistic are acceptable. Now is not that time.

I fill my travel mug with coffee, make sure my father has everything he needs until Mariah comes over for speech therapy—which I don’t think he needs anymore, but he seems to look forward to it—and head to work.

The workday goes by quickly yet drags at the same time. I’m busy behind the counter, missing being at my desk and talking to families about loans, but I can’t help watching the clock and the door. Every time a customer comes through the door, my heart picks up its pace.

I’m not excited to see Logan. I’m not scared to see him either. What bothers me the most is that I have no idea what will happen when I do see him again. Will my temper flair? Will I apologize for slapping him? Will my eyes betray me and fill with lust?

Ten minutes before closing, he crosses the lobby, his black tailored pants, bright blue shirt, and dark tie making him stand out against the casually dressed customers. It isn’t like businessmen in slacks and ties don’t come to the credit union. They do. But their clothes don’t fit them the way Logan’s do.

They don’t have an air of confidence and wealth surrounding them like an aura ring. And they don’t turn heads the way Logan’s presence does. Maybe it’s because he’s the new president. Or maybe it’s because he’s a beautiful man.

I pretend not to notice his arrival—especially since he was supposed to go back to Texas last night—and turn my back on him and stare out the drive-thru window. The lobby is closing soon, but the drive thru will stay open for an additional thirty minutes. Amanda and I are locking up tonight, and Brandi and the other teller start to close out their drawers.

“Hi, Mr. Pierce,” I hear Brandi coo from over my shoulder. “Oh, my. That looks like it hurts. Are you okay?”

“Good evening... Brandi. I hope your day went well,” Logan says, ignoring Brandi’s comment.

I bite my bottom lip to keep from smiling. I left a mark. Good. He deserves it. I hope everyone asks how it happened. Granted, I’m sure he’ll say the same thing he told his family Saturday night.

It’s just a scratch from my cufflink.

“It did. Can I help you with anything?”

I can picture Brandi sticking out her voluptuous chest and twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

“Not tonight, thank you.”

Brandi’s quite audible sigh tells me Logan is gone. Still, I’m not ready to turn around. A few minutes later, the other tellers say goodbye, leaving Amanda and me alone.

“Are you okay? I mean, about coming back behind the counter? I know how much you loved doing the loan stuff,” Amanda says as we do our paperwork for the night.

“I’m not going to lie. I’d much rather be in that office,” I tip my chin over my shoulder, “than here. No offense. I love working with you guys.”

“I would too if Mr. Bossman was in there.”

I still and listen to a faint noise from across the lobby. The light in my old office is still on, and Naomi left twenty minutes ago. Why would Logan stick around? To make sure I’m not a second-rate hooker who siphons from the cash drawer, no doubt.

Again with the hooker references. What is it about Logan that makes me feel like a cheap whore? Maybe because he’s rolling in the money and the only thing I rolled in was him. Well, over him. On him.

I clench my thighs together and push the memory of frantic, great sex out of my mind.

“Oh, hi, Mr. Pierce.”

“You all can call me Logan.” He doesn’t have a thick southern tang, but he says it just fast enough to almost sound like y’all. Logan is too formal to have a thick accent, although I bet a slow Texan drawl would sound incredibly sexy coming from his lips.

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