Текст книги "Blow"

Автор книги: Kim Karr

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

LOGAN

“What the fuck?” I barked.

My father kept walking and ignored me.

Furious, I grabbed his arm. “I said, what the fuck was that?”

Of all the things I’d helped him do for the Blue Hill Gang over the years, we’d always steered clear of women and children; they were off limits.

My father turned and glared at me. “Don’t ever challenge my authority in public like that again.”

Remorseful, I dropped my grip. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that in front of them, but you crossed the line.”

He started to pace. “I thought he’d be alone.”

At least he was rattled. “Maybe the next time you go off half-cocked, you’ll make sure you know what you’re walking into.”

The sunlight was fading but I could still see the lines on my father’s face. This kind of shit was wearing him down. He stopped and looked at me. “Look, Logan, I appreciate your help, but I told you on the way over here, I want you to stay out of this.”

The anger I had just managed to suppress flared up. With a step toward him, I pushed my finger into his chest. “You don’t get to decide when I’m in and when I’m out.”

“I saw the way you looked at her,” he said, his voice more even now.

I shoved him, still pissed as fuck that he went in there. As soon as he saw the woman and child, he should have bolted. “I didn’t look at her in any way. You don’t know what you’re talking about. All I want is for you to slow down and think before you involve people who don’t need to be involved.”

Maybe I had looked at that woman in a certain way, but it didn’t mean shit. I might have grown up in two very different worlds—one where wealth bred cordiality and one where violence led the way—but somehow there was a part of me that wasn’t divided, and that part would never fuck another man’s wife.

My father’s laugh was dry. “Slowing down isn’t an option and you know it. Just stay away from her,” he warned.

With an uneasy feeling, I said, “Promise me she will be left out of whatever Patrick has planned.”

He shook his head. “That’s not my call. He already thinks O’Shea needs a little motivation, which is why he sent me. Besides, Logan, chances are good that with what’s on the line, Patrick has already looked at different ways to solve this problem.”

I got right in his face. “I mean it. Make sure she’s not one of them.”

Visions flashed before me. Kidnapping. Rape. Torture.

My father looked around as if someone might be watching. “You know I can’t. That’s not my place. Besides, my visit today was strictly social.”

“Right,” I muttered under my breath.

He pointed his finger at me. “You need to calm down.”

Irate, I balled my fists at my sides. “Don’t tell me what I need.”

If that horrible gut feeling wasn’t worrisome enough, my father looked equally as troubled. “Go cool off. I’m going to see Patrick and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be anywhere even in his vicinity. I’ll catch a cab.”

I didn’t argue. “Fucking best idea you’ve had in a while.”

My cell started to ring and without a second thought, I walked past him and left his ass.

ELLE

“Who was that?”

As the thought escaped my lips, I cringed that I’d spoken it out loud. Michael wasn’t paying attention to me, though; he was already putting his coat on, and his aloof demeanor snapped me out of my daze.

Either he hadn’t heard me or he was ignoring my question. I waited patiently for an explanation but as the moments passed, I knew one wasn’t coming. Especially when he reached over and took Clementine from me.

Once she was fully in his arms, icy blue eyes darted to mine. “You shouldn’t have brought her here early.”

I peered at him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he responded tersely.

“Were you expecting him?”

“No,” he snapped. “He called earlier and told me he’d call me back later, or I would never have had you meet me here.”

I’d bitten back my irritation long enough. “Do you want to tell me what that was about?”

Michael grabbed Clementine’s coat from the hook and put it on her. “You know what that was about.”

His tone told me everything I needed to know.

This was about her.

He sighed and then spoke softly. “The mess she left behind is catching up with me sooner than I anticipated. I thought I had more time.”

“What did he say?”

Michael closed his eyes. “He told me time’s almost up.”

“What are you going to do?”

He stared at me without answering.

“Who is he, anyway?” I asked as a new wave of terror overtook me.

The diaper bag was on the floor and he picked it up. “Someone you don’t want to piss off. It’s best if you pretend you never saw him.”

“What’s his full name?” I pressed as I slipped my trench coat on and then my hat.

Michael opened the front door. “Sean McPherson.”

The cool wind hit my face and it blew my hat off when I stepped outside. “What does he do?”

“He’s an attorney in Dorchester.”

I walked down the steps and waited on the brick sidewalk. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“It doesn’t matter what he does. What matters is that you stay away from him.” He sounded annoyed.

It pissed me off.

“I got that the first time you told me that.”

Without a second glance, he looked away.

I was exasperated but knew he wasn’t going to say anything else. We’d been having the same type of conversation for the past three months.

“Where’d you park?” he asked.

“Around the corner.”

Michael’s Mercedes was sitting right in front of us. He nodded his head. “Get in. I’ll drive you there.”

I shook my head. “No, I think I’ll walk.”

“Are you okay?” he asked as he unlocked the doors.

“Yes, I’m fine. I just need some air.”

Michael bent to buckle Clementine into her car seat and I flashed him a disgusted look. I couldn’t believe he was really going to pull the “it’s for your own benefit” crap.

When Clementine was secure in her seat, he turned toward me with remorse in his eyes. “I’m not purposefully keeping you in the dark.”

With my brows raised, I responded emphatically, “Yes, you are.”

Again, he glanced away. “Okay, you’re right. I just don’t want you involved.”

“But I already am.”

Michael shook his head and took a step toward me. “Stop saying that.”

I sighed in frustration.

Michael gently put his hands on my arms. “Don’t let McPherson rattle you. He went to school with my father; they’re old friends. He’s a hothead, but he wouldn’t hurt me.”

I wasn’t so sure.

Having had enough, I shrugged out of his hold and stepped around him to kiss Clementine. “See you soon, baby girl,” I said to her and nuzzled her nose.

I hated saying goodbye.

Michael opened his door. “You all set for tomorrow?”

“I’ve just got a few more things to do. I’m heading there now to finish up.”

He gave me an encouraging nod. “Let me know what I can do to help.”

I smiled and said, “I think I have it all under control.”

“I know you do. You’ve done a fantastic job.”

Praise wasn’t what I looking for. The wind was cold and I dug into my pockets for my gloves. “Thanks.”

“’Bye, Elle,” he said, staring at me for a beat. When he got in the car and started it, he glanced at me before shutting his door. “I’m sorry I was short with you earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I told him.

Michael closed the door and turned back to check on Clementine.

He was a good father.

I waved goodbye as the tires rolled forward, and then I put my gloves on and shoved my red felt hat farther down on my head.

As I walked up the sidewalk, I occupied my mind by trying to avoid getting my heels stuck in the cracks between the bricks.

It gave me something to do—I was feeling restless. I wasn’t used to staying in one place for so long and it was beginning to catch up to me.

I gave up on not ruining my favorite boots when the late March drizzle began to fall and I had to move briskly to avoid getting too wet. As soon as I turned onto Tremont Street, I immediately saw that my rear tire was flat.

“Crap,” I muttered as I stood there and the rain started falling harder.

I looked around for shelter. The corner bar I must have passed at least a dozen times was only a few feet away. I decided to go in and call AAA from there.

I didn’t want to bother Michael about something I could take care of.

My damp, thin raincoat clung to my body and I reminded myself I should really buy a coat that was functional, not just fashionable. Shaking my head, I hurried toward the door to Molly’s Pub, getting wetter and wetter with each passing moment.

As soon as I entered the vestibule, it was quiet enough for me to make the call. The operator connected me to the nearest station. “The mechanic will be at least thirty minutes,” the attendant told me.

Contemplating what to do, I decided on a drink. “That’s fine. I’ll be at the bar at Molly’s.”

“Wait,” she called. “What number should the mechanic call when he arrives?”

I gave her my cell but doubted I’d hear my phone. The music was already pretty loud from here. “Also, in case he has to come in, I’m wearing black—black raincoat, black pants—oh, and a red hat,” I added.

She huffed and sounded annoyed. “Normally we ask that you wait by your vehicle but since it’s raining, I’ll let him know how to recognize you if he can’t reach you.”

“Thank you,” I told her before hanging up.

Once I’d tucked my phone back inside my purse, I pulled open the interior door to reveal a very crowded bar. Not only was I certain I would never hear my phone, but there was also no way the mechanic was going to be able to spot me in here.

I’d have to keep my eyes peeled for him.

The large room was dimly lit, glowing with soft white light. There was a steady pulse of music. A small dance floor was filled with people. Most were standing close and talking, others were already dancing. The DJ booth was already manned and larger than the dance floor. Still, the bar was the showpiece. Glass lit shelves displayed bottle after bottle of liquor, in addition to glasses in every shape and size.

The space was eclectic. The dark paneling and old-fashioned parquet wood floors flowed into the modern space from the vestibule. I liked it.

The pub, as it was called, was more like a club, and it was jam-packed with the happy hour crowd. I considered leaving but decided against it.

It had been a long week, and one drink was deserved.

As if moving in slow motion, I tried to push through the crowd.

I wasn’t dressed like the other women. Wearing leggings, boots, and a simple long-sleeved cream-colored blouse that buttoned up the front, I was dressed for winter even though it was spring. Most of these women had stripped out of their work jackets and sweaters to reveal sexy camisoles or sheer tops. They had planned for their night out.

The large bar was so crowded that I had to squeeze my way through to it. A shove, a push, another shove, and I’d been turned around. That’s when I saw another room that was also dimly lit, but seemed a lot calmer.

Unbuttoning my coat, I made a beeline for the space, ignoring the men who stared and women who leered. Booths lined the walls and there was a smaller bar with dozens of beer taps behind it. Still crowded, but nothing like the other side; I could at least move without being jostled. Luckily, a space opened up at the bar, and as I walked toward it, the female bartender glanced up from the person she was talking with.

It wasn’t her I was looking at, though; instead my eyes landed on the patron sitting at the bar. I knew who it was immediately. I’d studied his backside no more than thirty minutes ago. It was the younger McPherson. He appeared to be sitting alone, chatting with the bartender.

My heart skipped a beat and I automatically slowed my approach.

Obviously curious, he twisted his head around when the bartender’s eyes lingered on me a little too long. And when he saw me, he gave me a small smile.

That smile.

Wild, gorgeous, sexy.

Heart-stopping.

The current I felt surging between us earlier now reappeared with a jolt. It was unsettling. It made me think I should turn around, but I couldn’t.

The magnetic pull was too strong to ignore. This was a dangerous situation. Uncharted waters. In the past, I’d never felt a strong enough attraction toward anyone to worry what it might mean. There had never been sexual chemistry for me with anyone else.

I never really cared.

It was better that way.

If there had been, I would have fought it.

But, right now, I couldn’t.

Ignoring my intuition, I took off my hat. I immediately regretted it. The bottom half of my hair hung sodden against my partially unbuttoned flimsy raincoat while the top half sprang to life. I was certain my normally ginger-colored locks looked tangerine.

The younger McPherson didn’t seem to care. He stood and pulled out the empty bar stool next to his, motioning me toward him.

While my body urged me forward, my mind fought it every step of the way.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, and the sound of his voice made my spine tingle.

I wanted to be offended, but his tone wasn’t in the least bit harsh. “Following you.” I tried to sound nonchalant but I think my voice was more raspy than matter-of-fact, and I let out a slight laugh.

He didn’t seem to notice that I was joking and I saw his jaw tense.

I sat down. “Relax. I’m kidding, just kidding.”

Relief softened his features and he offered me his hand. “We haven’t officially met. I’m Logan.”

Logan. The young McPherson had a nice name. It suited him. He seemed formal in his choice of words but informal in his dress. And the hard lines of his body contradicted the softness of his voice.

I shook his hand. “Elle.”

“So, Elle, where are O’Shea and the baby?”

Odd question, I thought, but answered anyway. “They went home.”

With a raised brow, he asked, “What brings you into Molly’s?” He paused for a second and the corners of his mouth quirked. “Besides following me,” he said with a slight laugh of his own.

I withheld my laughter and frowned instead. “Flat tire.” I pointed out the wall of glass to the pretentious white Mercedes SUV parked out front that I had yet to get used to and noticed a second door. Interesting—what I’d thought was a remodel might actually have been an addition.

Logan looked out the window and then glanced around. When he noticed I was watching him he said, “That really sucks.”

“Yes, it does.”

“I can change it for you,” he offered.

I looked at him. His face was as breathtaking as he was charming. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I already called Triple-A.”

Logan glanced around again and finally leaned against the bar. “Then I’ll buy you a drink while you wait.”

His confidence turned me on.

My eyes slid down his body. I shivered—cold to the bone and more aware of his movements than I should have been.

In what seemed like a lifetime ago, when the rare urge for male companionship would strike, I’d simply go into a bar and pick up a man. It was easy. An art learned over years—lipstick bold, skirt short, heels high. Men liked women who looked sexy. They flirted with me. Bought me a drink. Complimented me on my eyes, my hair, my body. They didn’t know they didn’t have to—that was why I was there, after all. To have sex. No questions. No repeats. And even better, on my terms, which meant little conversation and no phone numbers. Relationships just weren’t in the cards for me.

I wasn’t certain Logan McPherson met those no-strings-attached criteria, but then again, my life was different now. And that’s why I needed to leave. My resolve wasn’t as strong as it had once been. My emotional blockade had been slowly crumbling since Clementine entered my life. I had to leave. Yet, I didn’t.

He continued to gaze at me, waiting for me to respond to his offer.

I knew I shouldn’t give in, but I didn’t have the willpower to turn him down. Words eased out of my mouth that shouldn’t have. “Sure. Something to warm me up,” I answered, rubbing my hands together.

With a single nod of his chin, he looked down at me for a beat or maybe two. Then he scanned the bar again. Even distracted, he was mesmerizing. After a few moments, he turned around and motioned for the female bartender he had been chatting with when I first arrived.

Although the other side of the bar was packed, this side wasn’t quite so crazy. However, the tables were completely occupied. As soon as she slid two plates of burgers and fries to a waitress, she hurried toward him. “What can I get you?”

I swiveled around in my seat and noticed a cup of coffee in front of him and another in front of me with a red lipstick stain on it. I wondered if that was why he was searching the bar.

Was the person who had been sitting here returning?

A girlfriend perhaps?

“Two shots of Jameson,” he said.

“Coming up.” The bartender’s smile was wide when she looked at Logan, like she thought she might just hit the jackpot later. It irritated me. She stretched and her flat belly visibly reflected in the mirror in front of her. I caught Logan’s gaze tracing the lines of her body as she reached higher, exposing more skin, and that irritated me more. But then I realized it was my gaze he was watching.

Our connection wasn’t broken as the bartender set two shot glasses between us and slowly began to pour the amber-colored liquid.

When she finished, I broke our gaze with a laugh. “You’re staring.”

He didn’t seem to mind that he’d gotten caught. “How about you take your coat off.”

Again, not a question.

“No, I’m fine. I won’t be staying long.”

The music seemed to be getting louder and he edged a little closer. “Uh-huh. The garage told you they’d be here in about thirty minutes, didn’t they?”

“They tell everyone that,” the bartender blurted out.

My eyes darted to her in annoyance and then back to him. The young McPherson didn’t find her intrusive behavior funny either. Then again, other than the cute wave he gave Clementine earlier, he seemed so serious. “Thanks for the drinks,” he said dismissively.

She took the hint and returned to the other end of the bar.

His gaze traced the lines on my face and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was trying to guess how old I was. “She was right—all the garages around here tell you it will take much less time than it actually does.”

“Why would they do that?”

He raised a brow. “Why does anyone do anything—for money. The economy is suffering in South Boston. All the small businesses are hurting for cash and want to make sure they secure your business.”

“Well, I guess I’d better take my coat off, then.”

The raincoat had soaked through, so ridding myself of it would be a relief.

Someone pushed toward the bar behind me just as I stood, nudging me forward an inch or two. Logan reached to grab my arm so I wouldn’t stumble.

His touch made me gasp. Concentrating on calming my nerves, I didn’t notice that my blouse was wet, and most likely see-through, until my coat was off.

His eyes darted to my chest.

Yep, definitely see-through.

Without taking his eyes off me, he took my coat and shoved it beside his. We were both still standing, facing each other, very, very close. People on either side of us pushed us even closer as they wormed their way toward the bar. His eyes looked darker than I remembered, and his chest seemed to rise and fall more quickly than it did before.

“Aren’t you going to drink that?” He nodded toward the shot.

My knees felt a little wobbly and I quickly sat down before they gave out. “Yes, I think I will.”

Logan handed me one of the shots. “Irish whiskey. If it doesn’t warm you up, it will definitely put hair on your chest.”

With a small laugh, I took the glass and his fingertips grazed mine. My body tingled, but I ignored the feeling and with a tsk I said, “I hope not.”

He blatantly eyed the front of my blouse.

The heat of his stare was just too much and I found myself uncharacteristically downing the shot without a second thought. The liquid burned my throat, but it was worth it because my body began to warm instantly. Whether it was from the liquor or him standing so close, though, I wasn’t sure. When I was done, I slammed the glass down.

His slow grin caused a sweet ache right between my thighs. As if he knew it, he inched even closer. Leaning forward, he whispered, “No hair, I hope.”

Again, I sputtered out a laugh. “No, I think I’m safe,” I managed around my giggle.

His eyes now on my face, he passed me the other shot.

I held my hand up. “No, that’s yours.”

Finally, he sat down, which put some distance between us. Not much, but some. “Two shots are guaranteed to light a fire inside you.”

I was already heating up.

For a moment, we seemed to be trying to get a read on each other. After a beat, I shoved the glass back toward him and said, “Thank you, but I’ve had my limit.”

Bemused, he asked, “Only one? That’s your limit?”

The deep tenor of his voice caused my heart to pound, and I couldn’t help but notice how his eyes gleamed bright when the words escaped his throat. I played along and raised a brow. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

His low chuckle ticked my eardrum. He pushed the shot away. “Absolutely not. I wasn’t going to let you drink it anyway. You’re driving.” He winked.

“Oh, you’re an alpha male, are you,” I teased.

Logan’s laugh rasped. “Absolutely not.”

I tilted my head sideways in doubt.

There was a twinkle in his eyes. “You don’t believe me. I’m wounded.”

I found myself giggling.

“O’Shea,” the bartender called from behind the bar.

The name didn’t register.

“White Mercedes SUV. Flat tire,” she called out louder.

Finally, it did and I raised my hand and shouted, “That’s me!”

She leered at me and pointed to the door.

I turned to see a man in a blue quilted jacket. I’d completely forgotten about him. Guess with my hat off, I was lost in the crowd and he couldn’t find me either. “Looks like they arrived quickly,” I quipped, the corners of my mouth turning up slightly.

Logan glanced at his watch, which looked extremely expensive. “Twenty minutes—that has to be record timing,” he commented, the inflection of his voice much flatter than it had been.

Rushing, I hopped off the stool a little too fast and the room started to spin, causing me to lose my balance.

Logan jumped up and grabbed me. Our bodies were aligned in such a way that we were thigh-to-thigh, belly-to-belly. It was then that I noticed just how tall he was. Six foot one was my guess. While he steadied me, he spoke and his warm breath caressed my neck. “Whoa, I see why you’ve got a one-drink minimum.”

“I’m fine,” I said, trying to find my balance.

“Where are your keys?” he asked.

I stared at him.

I didn’t know him.

I shouldn’t trust him.

I didn’t trust anyone.

“Where are your keys?”

A command, this time voiced as a request.

Something in his eyes made it seem okay, and with a little hesitation, I pulled the ring from my small black bag but held on to them.

With his finger pointed at me, his tone quieted. “Sit back down. I’ll take care of this.”

Concerned, I found myself hopelessly trying to excuse my behavior. “No, really, I’m fine. I skipped lunch and got dizzy for a second. That’s all.”

That stare scorched me again and for a moment I think he considered leaving me my keys.

But then I went to take a step forward and felt my equilibrium spin off kilter again.

Wow, that shot really went to my head.

Logan grabbed them and with almost a triumphant smirk, he was twirling the key ring around his finger before I even realized it. “Let me be the alpha male you think I am and take care of this.”

Even though I laughed, I thought that was probably a good idea. Still, I was anything but a damsel in distress and didn’t want to appear that way. I blinked a few times before conceding. “Thank you.”

That smirk remained as he slid his coffee cup my way. “Here, drink this. I haven’t touched it yet.”

I gave in much too easily as I reached for the cup of black java. “Okay. I’ve already given them all my info.”

The mechanic gestured toward the door and as Logan followed him outside, I watched his swagger. Concern poured through my veins. Sure, he was handsome, charming, maybe a bit brooding in the sexiest way. Still, I’d gone without physical attraction my whole life. Never really wanted to feel it. Only rarely went looking for it. Most of the time I didn’t need it. But the way my body reacted to his terrified me. I couldn’t fight it even if I wanted to.

Not even when I’d met my very first boyfriend right out of college had I experienced such a lustful reaction. Then again, that’s what had made Charlie so right for me. We were both looking for companionship and the sex was secondary. In hindsight, look at how badly that ended. Sadness swept through me as the memory of him seeped from the place I’d stored it long ago.

“Hey love,” he said the first time he laid eyes on me.

His charm got me right away.

He looked like a Charlie. Dark hair, big build, medium height, beautiful eyes. Charlie was a businessman from London with the sexiest English accent I’d ever heard. We were both working for the International Trade Center in Paris when we met. He worked in finance and had been transferred just weeks before I’d arrived. This was my first job after college and I was so nervous. It couldn’t have been more perfect that I’d found him. During the day we both worked. He went to the office while I visited local exporters, purchasing the finest merchandise to sell in the States. At night and on the weekends, we explored the city together. We became best friends and since I’d never had one, I treasured him.

Over the course of my four-month stay, we did what I never thought I would do: fell in love. Unable to stand the idea of not having him to talk to every day, I made Paris my home base. ITC didn’t care where I conducted business, so for the next year, I traveled to international markets, always returning to find Charlie anxiously waiting for me.

When the day came that he began to talk about marriage, I was forced to tell him what I had yet to confess. Charlie did his best to accept that hard truth but in the end, I knew he wouldn’t be able to. As the weeks passed he started to pull away. I even thought about ending things before he eventually would, but I just couldn’t.

He was my first love, my only love. I was young and naïve, and I mistakenly thought love conquered all.

I learned the hard way that it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“I wouldn’t bother.” The bartender’s voice brought me back from the darkness of my past.

I swirled around on my stool to face her. “I think you have the wrong idea about us”—I paused to read her name tag—“Molly.”

She dumped both of the cold coffees down the sink in front of her. “I saw the way you were looking at him and I just thought you should know he never gets attached.”

If only she knew that made him all the more perfect.

“I appreciate your warning, but like I said, it’s not what you think.”

A hand touched my back and I felt a spark as Logan leaned forward. “What’s not what you think?”

Feeling oddly shy, I barely glanced at him. “You and me. I was just telling Molly that she had the wrong idea about us.”

He sat down and I felt those hazel eyes zero in on me.

Shedding the shyness that a woman my age had no business feeling, I met his gaze. I must have been crazy, seeing in expression that he hoped she didn’t have the wrong idea about us. I blinked, knowing my interpretation couldn’t have been right.

Logan tapped the bar with his fingers. “Don’t listen to anything Molly has to say. She grew up next door to my grandfather and thinks she knows me.”

Molly hit him with the towel she had slung over her shoulder. “I do. We’ve known each other practically our whole lives.”

He threw her a warning look I didn’t understand and then shrugged. “True, but after I was fifteen, I only visited once a year at Christmas and one month every summer. So you tell me, how well can you know me?”

She frowned; obviously she didn’t agree with him. “Better than most people.”

He tossed her another warning look.

“Molly,” an older man bellowed from a doorway behind the bar.

She rolled her eyes. “Coming, Dad.”

The man lifted his chin. “Logan.”

“Frank,” Logan replied flatly.

“I’ll see you around. I have to get back to my club. My father prefers to be over here,” Molly said with a glimmer in her eye.

“Yeah, sure.” Logan’s tone didn’t give anything away.

“Molly,” the man said sternly. “The DJ is having some technical difficulty.”

With another roll of her eyes, she replied, “Coming, coming,” then she turned back. “You’d think my father would know what to do when the breaker blows.” With that, she hurried toward the older man and followed him through the door, which must have connected to the club-like side.

Logan swiveled on the stool and his knees touched mine. More sparks shot through me. I wondered if he felt them too. If he did, they must not have bothered him because he didn’t move away. “So I’ve got some bad news.”

I tilted my head. “Oh, no, what is it?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger, but there’s no spare tire and the vehicle is going to have to be towed to the station.”

“Can’t he just patch it?”

He shook his head. “No way. I saw it and it’s beyond repair.”

I looked at my watch and sighed. Michael probably already had Clementine home by now. Distressed, I said, “Are you sure there’s nothing they can do? I need to get to work tonight and it’s a little far to walk.”

Logan became very serious. “The tire isn’t repairable. He has to order a new one. Unfortunately the station doesn’t stock the one that fits your SUV. He says it will be ready tomorrow afternoon. It’s doubtful any garage around here stocks an expensive tire like that, but do you want to call your husband and see if he knows of someplace else you might want to try? Because there is no way you should walk anywhere this late.”

“My husband?” I laughed out loud.

Logan furrowed his brows. “Yeah, O’Shea.”

I laughed again. “Michael isn’t my husband.”

His eyes flickered in surprise. “Sorry, I just assumed.”

I swore I saw a shadow of doubt so I held my left hand out. “See, I’m not married. No ring.”

Strangely, relief seemed to cross his features.

I’d already checked out Logan’s hand back at Michael’s office and I hadn’t seen a ring, or a tan mark, or an indentation, so my assumption was the young McPherson wasn’t married either. But the lipstick-stained cup meant he might have a girlfriend.