Page 59 of What Matters Most

“I know. I will. But I…was expecting someone else and…” Her words drifted off.

Smiling, he offered her his hand. “Tate Harding,” he said.

A tingling sensation slipped up her arm at his touch.

Tate’s hand was callused and rough from work. She successfully restrained her desire to turn it over and examine the palm. His handsome face was tanned from exposure to the elements. Tate was handsome, compellingly so.

“It looks as if I came at an inconvenient time.”

“Oh no,” she hurried to assure him. She noticed that he’d released his grip, although she continued to hold her hand in midair. Self-consciously, she lowered it to her side. “Sit down,” she said, motioning toward her favorite chair. The hot color in her face threatened to suffocate her with its intensity.

Tate sat and lazily crossed his legs, apparently unaware of the effect he had on her.

Abby was shocked by her own reaction. She’d dated a number of men. She was neither naïve nor stupid. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked as she hastily retreated to the kitchen, not waiting for his answer. Pausing, she frantically prayed that for once, just once, Logan would be late. No sooner had the thought formed than she heard the apartment buzzer again. This time she listened to her speaker.

“Abby?”

Logan. Abby hesitated, but let him in.

Tate had stood and opened the door by the time she turned around. Logan had arrived. When he stepped inside, the two men eyed each other skeptically. A slight scowl drew Logan’s brows together.

“Logan, this is Tate Harding. Tate, Logan Fletcher.” Abby flushed uncomfortably and darted an apologetic look at them both.

“I thought we had a class tonight.” Logan spoke somewhat defensively.

“This is my fault,” Tate said, his gaze resting on Abby’s face and for one heart-stopping moment on her softly parted lips. “I dropped by unexpectedly.”

Logan’s mouth thinned with displeasure and Abby pulled her eyes from Tate’s. Logan had never been the jealous type, but then he’d never had reason or opportunity to reveal that side of his nature. Still, it surprised her. Abby hadn’t considered this a serious relationship. It was more of a companionable one. Logan had understood and accepted that, or so she’d thought.

“I’ll come back another time,” Tate suggested. “You’ve obviously got plans with Logan.”

“We’re taking classes together,” Abby rushed to explain. “I’m taking painting and Logan’s studying chess. We drive there together, that’s all.”

Tate’s smile was understanding. “I won’t keep you, then.”

“Nice to have met you,” Logan stated, sounding as if he meant exactly the opposite.

Tate turned back and nodded. “Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

Logan nodded briskly. “Perhaps.”

The minute Tate left, Abby whirled around to face Logan. “That was so rude,” she whispered fiercely. “For heaven’s sake—you were acting like you owned me…like I was your property.”

“Think about it, Abby,” Logan said just as forcefully, also in a heated whisper. His dark eyes narrowed as he stalked to the other side of the room. “We’ve been dating exclusively for almost a year. I assumed that you would’ve developed some loyalty. I guess I was mistaken.”

“Loyalty? Is that all our relationship means to you?” she demanded.

Logan didn’t answer her. He walked to the door and held it open, indicating that if she was coming she needed to do it now. Silently, Abby followed him through the lobby and into the parking lot.

The entire way to the community center they sat without speaking. The hard set of Logan’s mouth indicated the tight rein he had on his temper. Abby forced her expression to remain haughtily cold.

They parted in the hallway, Logan taking the first left while Abby continued down the hall. A couple of the women she’d become friends with greeted her, but Abby had difficulty responding. She took twice as long as normal setting up her supplies.

The class, which was on perspective, didn’t go well, since Abby’s attention kept returning to the scene with Logan and Tate. Logan was obviously jealous. He’d revealed more emotion in those few minutes with Tate than he had in the past twelve months. Logan tended to be serious and reserved, while she was more emotional and adventurous. They were simply mismatched. Like her socks—one red, one blue. Logan had become too comfortable in their relationship these last months, taking too much for granted. The time had come for a change, and after tonight he had to recognize that.

After class they usually met in the coffee shop beside the center. Logan was already in a booth when she arrived there.

Wordlessly, Abby slipped into the seat across from him. Folding her hands on the table, she pretended to study her nails, wondering if Logan was ever going to speak.

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