Inevitable (23 page)

“Good evening, Cassandra.” Logan smiled, turning away from the stove to greet me.

His simple white tee clung sinfully to his sculptured chest capturing my attention. My gaze wandered down to his light jeans, worn through in the knees and hung low on his waist. I dropped my head, embarrassed to look back up knowing he was watching me gawk at him. I closed my eyes for the briefest moment to get my wits back in check, and willed the blood pooled in my cheeks to disperse. As I opened my eyes once again, I noticed his bare feet. The man made something as simple as cooking the sexiest thing I’d ever witnessed.

I looked back up and grinned. “Wow, you’re actually cooking?” I teased, laughing once, hoping he wouldn’t mention my prior blatant staring. The image of Logan holding a giant wooden spoon, standing over a steaming pot at the stove, was one I wanted to store away for as long as I lived.

“There is a lot about me you don’t know, sweetheart.” He winked.

I opened my mouth to give a snappy come back, but was interrupted.

“Yeah, like how big of an ass he can be!”

I turned to gaze at the man standing in the doorway. He appeared about my age, maybe a bit younger, and judging by the charming smirk dancing across his lips, I knew he was definitely related to Logan.

“Hi.” I stepped closer to him, smiling. “I’m Cassandra.”

“Jax, a pleasure,” he replied smoothly. He took my hand and placed a lingering kiss upon my knuckles causing me to flush, my stance uncomfortably rigid.

Hesitantly, I smiled as his gaze locked with mine, and he released my hand. I was pulled from the moment when I could have sworn I heard a low throaty growl slip from Logan. With a subtle shake of my head, I stepped back into the room toward Oliver.

“Well, Cassandra, you not only have my nephew running around yelling at me to put on a clean shirt, but it seems you’ve inspired my brother to cook again. You must be quite the lady.”

He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes raking down my body then back up, where he flashed a sinful smirk.

My head shot down, staring at the rustic tile floor, embarrassed. I felt the blush creeping over my cheeks once again. I could not imagine making Logan do anything he didn’t want to.

“They’re good guys.” I smiled softly, thankful my voice came out smooth and strong. I looked up and over at Oliver who was impatiently waiting for me to follow him.

“Come on, Cassandra, we can go sit down. Daddy will bring us our plates when he’s done.” Oliver took my hand.

“Yes, please make yourself at home,” Logan said, a soft smile on his lips before returning his attention to the stovetop.

Oliver led the way to the formal dining room.

“You can sit next to me,” Oliver puffed out, exerting all his strength to pull out the antique upholstered chair from the table.

 “Thanks.” I sat in the chair and watched him repeat his actions on the seat beside me. “You know, Oliver, you can call me Cassie, if you like.”

“Is that your name? I thought it was Cassandra.” His forehead marred with confusion when he was finally up in his chair, his head barely able to see above the enormous table.

“It is, but my family and close friends call me Cassie. You call me whichever you prefer.”

“Cassandra is pretty,” he looked at me, titling his head, “but I want to be your friend so…I’ll call you Cassie.”

I smiled at his thought process. “Great.”

My eyes took in the room, roaming over the fine cabinet in the corner and up above the table where my mouth fell open. I gasped when they landed on the dazzling crystal chandelier above me. The light beamed in through the window, glittering off hundreds of different shaped and cut crystals. Dropping my head back farther, I was drawn up to the breathtaking mural on the ceiling.

“This is a beautiful room,” I breathed, enchanted. My gaze held firm, absorbing every detail the extremely talented painter used.

“We don’t eat in here very much. Daddy says it’s only for our special guests.”

I relaxed back in my chair, unable to peel my eyes away from the painting above. A pale-blue sky with beautiful smoky clouds parted to reveal what looked like the heavens above. A magical kingdom, carved from gold, peeked down. It was breathtaking.

“My daddy painted that! I helped too. I handed him the brushes, and I even painted that over there.” I glanced in the direction of his finger, where a young but talented child obviously painted a small yellow sun in the far right corner.

“Wow, you did a wonderful job!” I smiled, sincerely. The entire work of art was a masterpiece.

“Yeah, he takes after his old man.” Jax spoke, entering the room followed by Logan who was juggling two wine glasses and a small tumbler. Jax took the seat across from me while Logan placed the tumbler of water in front of Oliver and then proceeded to sit on my other side, at the head of the table.

He handed me a glass, and looked down sheepishly when he noticed my eyes flickering back down from his mural.

“I didn’t know you painted,” I said, softly, surprised to see him shift in his seat. “It’s beautiful.” I took a small sip of water as Logan smiled softly in return.

He was an artist, and a damn good one. And even more surprising was the fact that he was shy about it. I couldn’t believe this was the same Logan that had flirted endlessly and tried to seduce me into bed. My inner self laughed as I realized just how complicated this man was.

Logan gave a subtle, crooked smile. “Like I said, there is a lot you don’t know about me.”

He then stood and left the room, returning minutes later with our meal. It looked amazing and I still couldn’t believe he had cooked it.

“How long have you painted?” I asked. I found myself eager to learn more about this side of him.

“Yeah, yeah, Logan can paint. But tell me more about you, Cassandra. Do you happen to have any single friends you’d like to bring by sometime?” Jax said.

“He’s kidding of course,” Logan said, shooting a threatening glare to his kid brother. “He’s young and full of raging hormones”

I laughed but covered my hand over my mouth, aware I was sitting beside a four-year-old.

“Why don’t you go wash up for dinner, Oliver,” Logan said, catching my uncomfortable glance at his son.

Oliver sighed, looking down at his plate of food, but did as he was told. He hopped down from the chair and sulked out of the room.

“You’re one to talk, brother,” Jax went on when Oliver disappeared around the corner. “I’ve seen all the girls hanging around your bachelor pad in the city. I’m sure living in the country hasn’t changed that. Am I right, Cassandra?” Jax eyes were solely on me now. “Living right next door, I’m sure you see a string of scantily clad vixens coming and going all hours of the night when Oliver visits Lawrence.”

“Enough, Jackson!” Logan sneered, his hands balled into fist on the table.

I took a bite of the most amazing mushroom risotto I’d ever tasted, and smiled across the table. “So, what do you do, Jax?” I asked, trying to diffuse the tension building between them. With another bite, a small moan slip passed my lips. Logan could really cook.

“I travel. I enjoy meeting new people, new women, and showing them a good time.”
Definitely related to Logan.
I nodded, unimpressed and placed the fork full of risotto back in my mouth, savoring the taste.

He continued. “There’s not much else at the moment to do with my time.”

“You could try finding a job,” Logan said, irritated. “Or perhaps join our sister in college.”

Jax took a swig of the soda in front of him and grinned wickedly in my direction. My mind was still too wrapped up in the delightfulness in my mouth to care much about his smoldering expressions.

“College is no place for me, unless it’s at the co-ed parties. As for a job, I’m planning on talking my big brother here into employing me at his little paper in town.”

I raised my eyebrows, mouth stuffed with food.

“Lawrence and Father both turned you down at the head office, I take it?” Logan grumbled.

“No, I just thought I might want to see what this small town has to offer for a while.” He looked me up and down in my chair, and gave me an approving smirk. “Judging by the gorgeous woman sitting across from me, there seems to be a lot to be offered here.”

And like earlier, I heard the faint growl coming from Logan, but I simply ignored both men, losing myself in the meal Logan had so wonderfully prepared.

Oliver rejoined us and the table talk turned to tree houses, movies, and books. Turns out Logan not only cooked like a chef and painted like a master, but he also enjoyed reading classic literature. Today was full of one surprise after another.

We finished our meal and I stood to help clear the table but Logan’s hand covered mine, removing the plate from my grasp.

“I have someone to take care of those, sweetheart. Oliver, what do you say we show Cassandra the library?”

I couldn’t help the smile that grew on my face at the idea of a library. Just the word made me feel giddy.

“And on that note, I’m out.” Jax stood up and slipped around the table, stopping behind me. I turned to face him while Logan stood watching warily. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Cassandra. Piece of advice,” he leaned in closer to my ear, “keep those panties of yours on if you ever want another invite to dinner around here.”

With that, he shot Logan a smug grin, and said a quick good-bye to Oliver. I stood there, stunned and slightly embarrassed. Logan had one hell of a reputation among his siblings.

“What did he say?” Logan asked as we walked out of the room following behind Oliver.

“Nothing important.” I shrugged, offering a half smile but his expression was clear, he didn’t believe me.

Entering the room behind Oliver I was left flabbergasted. The man had an actual library in his home. No wonder he had so many moving trucks here that first week.

“This is…wow!” I giggled, grabbing a book sitting on a small round table by one of the four armchairs in the room. A large upholstered coffee table rested in the middle and Oliver climbed up, lying on his stomach. He rested his chin in his hands, and stared up at me.

“Daddy makes me read a lot.” He sighed, his feet swinging in the air.

I smiled, looking up from the book,
Treasure Island
, in my hand. “How horrible of him!” I scrunched up my nose.

He chuckled. Logan sat across from him in a chair, watching me.

“We just started that one the other night. We take turns reading a page,” Logan explained, smiling proudly at his son. “His reading is on a third grade level.”

I smiled back, and placed the book down, impressed. Perusing the shelves a yawn spilled from my lips, and I looked over at the clock on the table, it read eight fifteen.

“I should get going.” I turned to face Logan.

He stood, as did Oliver, and walked me to the door.

“Thanks for dinner,” I said. I ran my hand over Oliver’s mop of dirty-blond waves.

“You can come every night,” Oliver replied with his bright smile, lighting his sleepy eyes.

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“He’s a bit forward, but I happen to agree. Any time you want some company, let me know,” Logan said.

I wasn’t sure if I should read into the double meaning, so I simply nodded, and walked out the front door feeling great about our new friendship.

It was later that week when I went outside to watch the sunset that I heard Oliver singing and knew exactly where he was at. I smiled, walking to the tree house and climbing the freshly repaired ladder. With each step up, I was grateful the repairmen only fixed it up and didn’t replace it. There were too many memories attached to it.

When my hands rested on the floor of the tree house, I looked up, preparing to say hello and froze. Oliver wasn’t alone.

“Hello, sweetheart.” Logan smiled. “I have to tell you, this is exactly as I imagined it in here.”

He looked enormous in the cramped space, but in the center of the room—where the roof peaked—he could almost stand up straight.

“Thanks,” I said when Logan reached down and held out his hand and pulled me up.

There wasn’t a lot of room, which left me nearly on top of his feet as we stood staring at Oliver. My breath caught when his hand brushed against my bare knee. My cutoff shorts rested mid-thigh. I backed up a step, narrowing my eyes down at his hand.

He chuckled, knowing what I was thinking.

“Look what Daddy made!” Oliver held out a wood frame and I took it, sucking in a deep breath when I saw the sketch inside.

It was of Oliver and me in my backyard. I was standing over him while he squatted down with a box in his hand at the edge of the tree line. My gaze shot up at Logan.

“You saw us?” I said, surprised.

He nodded, carefully watching me. The sketch was from the first day I met Oliver—when he released the little critter.

“Daddy said it was a good thing you were there to help me save the mouse. He’s with his family now.”

I looked over at Oliver who had taken a seat at the small table. He snatched a piece of construction paper and the tin of crayons. I smiled. He was at home here.

“This is…amazing. I should go get a hammer and nail.”