Ulterior Designs (House of Evans Book 1) (27 page)

Chloe narrowed her eyes at her mom. “I already told you, there’s nothing going on with him.”

“That’s not exactly what you said,” she countered with a shake of her head. “But it’s fine. You’ve always been a private person and I won’t make you admit to something you’re not ready to.”

Giving in, Chloe let out a deep sigh. “Look, Ma, I’d love to admit there’s something going on with him, but he has …
issues.
Not to mention peculiar tastes.”

Her mom’s look of calm changed instantly to worry. “What kind of
issues
?”

“He’s not a psycho or anything. He just doesn’t want to be tied down. I mean, he hasn’t said that in so many words, but …”

She let out another deep breath. There was no way to explain how frustrating Logan was without making him sound like a complete dick.

“Chloe,
all
men have issues, and most of them have peculiar tastes. But to each their own. So long as he makes you happy, then I say go for it. Just be careful. As for not wanting to be tied down, well, you find those kinds of people every now and then, and there’s not much you can do about it,” she said with a sudden look of embarrassment. “You can’t hold it against him. Maybe he has his reasons. Either he’ll come around, or he won’t. I just hope that heart of yours is ready for it to go either way.”

The expression on her mom’s face prompted a question. “Did dad have commitment issues?”

“Ay, no!” her mother squealed as she tossed her head back and laughed. “I couldn’t get that man to leave me alone.
Era como un perro en celo!
He wanted to marry me from the first time we …,” she halted her statement and grinned.

Again, Chloe’s mouth parted in shock. This whole being-seen-as-an-adult-thing in her mother’s eyes had been thrust upon her too quickly. And to say that her father had been like a dog in heat? That was
too much.

Chloe put a hand up to stop her mother from saying anymore. “You’re definitely not my mom.”

“Oh, I’m your mom. I still have the C-section scars to prove it. Don’t make me whip ‘em out.”

Chloe cringed. One unprompted visit followed by several unsolicited admissions was already more than enough.
That,
would truly be too much.

L
ogan’s patience was nearing its end. He’d been sitting on that damned toilet stool for nearly twenty minutes while fiddling on his phone and trying to not to think of what was facing him in that garage—
Chloe’s family.

If only he had turned and left before Chloe had seen him he wouldn’t be getting ready to offer up fake sincerity and niceties. But she had looked so damned good in her cream-colored sweatshirt and worn denim that he’d simply stood there in the rain fixated on her like some kind of crazed lover. He had intended on just dropping in for a quick hello, but the sudden appearance of her mother and brother had halted him like a deer caught in a hunter’s snare.

And now here he sat in without pants and a shirt, and in damp over-priced boxers waiting for a twenty-two-year-old to bring him his clothing. When Chloe peeked through the bathroom curtain to hand him his dry garments, he snatched them with such ferocity, he became the victim of said twenty-two-year-old’s cold glare.

“You’re welcome,” she mumbled before slamming the drape shut as if it was a door.

Re-dressed and his hair made to look as good as possible, he ventured out into the living room only to find it empty. Each step down to the first level was taken slowly as he formulated his thoughts. He could just sneak out the front, and as tempting as that was, he’d rather face Chloe’s family than be called a chicken shit.

The moment he entered the garage, four sets of eyes converged on him, making him rethink whether or not he should bolt in the other direction, chicken-shit title or not.

Chloe’s mouth parted but her mother was too quick. In an instant, all five feet and a few inches of Mexican-American middle-aged womanhood was standing before him, pushing her small hand in his direction.

“Logan, right? I’m Antonia, but you can call me Toni. Chloe has spoken very highly of you as an employer. Her father and I can’t thank you enough for treating her so well. Her last boss was a real
cabron
and …”

“Mom!” Chloe cut in, followed by light laughter from the youngest of the Stephens clan.

Logan only knew a handful of Spanish words,
cabron
being one of them. And Toni was spot on—D. Mo. was a real bastard.

Laughter of his own threatened to rumble out of him at the serious look on Toni’s face and the nod of approval her father was throwing his way. Although, Logan wasn’t sure what Chloe’s father was nodding for—in agreement of Toni’s statement, or that he knew his wife so well that a statement like that coming from her wasn’t anything new. Perhaps it was both.

“Apparently I’ve said enough, so I’ll let Chloe make the rest of the introductions,” she said as she stepped back.

Chloe promptly took over, but not before offering him what looked to be an apologetic smile. What she was apologizing for, though, he had no idea. Toni’s unpretentious candidness had immediately put him at ease. As did her scent. It reminded him vaguely of Chloe, but not quite—as did her smile.

“This is my dad, Dalton, and my brother, Tyson.”

“Who else would I be?” Tyson chimed in, his voice and expression screaming sarcastic-teenage-condescension.

Chloe quickly shot him a look that could kill. “Another
cabron
?”

Tyson’s face reddened and his lips parted with his rebuttal, but Dalton intervened.

“Lock it up, Tyson,” he growled, before offering Logan the same apologetic smile his daughter had just given him. “It’s nice to meet you.” He thrust his hand in Logan’s direction. “Chloe took us to the marina last night to show us a bit of your work. If that’s any indication of what your home looks like, I’m sure it’s magnificent. Toni and I are beyond ecstatic that you’ve taken a chance on Chloe. I’m biased, of course, but I have no doubt that she’ll come through for you.”

Dalton’s deep, commanding voice, solid body and posture resonated with Logan. He had feared Chloe’s father would remind him of his own, but he’d been mistaken. The man standing before Logan wasn’t anything how he remembered his father to be. Not just in looks, but in demeanor. Direct eye contact and straight-forward communication left him slightly stunned. He shouldn’t have been seeing as Dalton was Chloe’s father, yet a rapid influx of guilt sent a new wave of apprehension through him.

When Logan’s eye contact wavered and he stammered a
thank you
before his gaze shifted to Chloe, something flared in Dalton’s irises.

Logan knew better than to break eye contact. He knew better than to offer up fake sincerity too, because that’s exactly how it came off—
phony.
And Logan wasn’t phony.
Or, was he?
He was staring back at a man whose height nearly matched his own and whose intensity probably elicited fear and/or respect from all those around him in most situations. He was standing toe-to-toe with a man whose eye color and shape was nearly identical to the very woman he was only interested in having a sexual relationship with—a woman whom Logan had no doubt this man would fight for with his last dying breath.
How did he know?
Because he would do the same for his own daughter. And most especially if she was anything close to being as special as Chloe was.

Maybe he’d been had. Perhaps Dalton had picked up on his intentions. He hoped not, because if he had, he was screwed—and not just by the stunning brunette watching their interaction with worry shining in her eyes. But that look of unease was unsettling and if there was one thing he never wanted to be the cause for in Chloe, it was
that look.

*

Chloe had never felt the strange sensation prickling low in her gut. Then again, she had also never had a boyfriend before, and even though Logan was far from that, her father had never met any man she had ever been with. But what she was dealing with went beyond nervousness, and she had no idea why. She could only guess it was because of the way Logan and her father were staring at each other as if they would either collapse into an embrace of camaraderie, or tear each other new assholes. When she glanced back at her mom for some kind of support, her mother only stared on as if watching a thriller.

As though he’d accepted some unspoken challenge, Logan straightened up, and the awkwardness that he had exuded before disappeared.

“What line of work are you in?” Logan asked, his voice deepening to its normal state of sexiness.

“I’m a project manager for a construction company. It’s not nearly as illustrious as your line of work, but it pays the bills. And hell, without us, your work would go unfinished,” her dad answered.

“Illustrious?” Logan seemed taken aback. “There’s nothing illustrious about sitting behind a computer screen all day long trying to figure out where the hell the toilet should be put.”

Her dad’s eyes widened before he belted out a laugh. “Right. Well, I guess that just goes to prove that we all have to deal with the shits in one way or another.”

A short silence from Logan was followed by a burst of genuine laughter.

When Logan’s eyes darted toward the chandelier lying on one of the work tables, she quickly darted in front of it.

“Logan Evans, don’t you dare peek! It’s a surprise.” He tried to juke and jive around her but she pressed her hands against his chest. “I mean it. I want there to be some element of surprise in what I design.”

“I hate surprises,” he grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Christ, me too,” her dad added. “I hate not being in the know. I want details—
all of the details
. I want a plan of action and a solid follow-through.”

While Chloe rolled her eyes at the speech she had heard too many times to count, a crooked smile crept onto Logan’s face.

“Right?” Logan said with a nod.

His affirmation of her dad’s statement was followed by an ornery look as if to remind her of his own little speech before their piano-top encounter. But there was no need for a reminder. Chloe remembered. Hell, she’d never forget.

“Speaking of surprises,” Logan said with one brow lifted. “Some of my furniture arrived today. I don’t recall that
Barbarella
chair being on my list.”

Chloe’s face burned with mortification, and was only made worse by her brother butting into the conversation.

“What is that?”

Logan’s other brow lifted as if daring her to answer the question.

“It’s a fancy chair with a pretty name and a big price tag.
If
you ever get a job, maybe you can afford one,” she shot back.

“Whatever. I’m bored. We’ve been cooped up here all day. I thought I’d get to see some hot Cali girls, and I’m stuck here,” he whined. “Where do all the hot women hang out, Logan?”

Logan’s eyes darted toward Tyson and a look of amused nervousness flashed over his face. Chloe tried to butt in, but Tyson was relentless.

“Come on, a good-looking, rich guy like you has to know where the girls hang out,” Tyson continued.

Logan’s mouth snapped shut, and his questioning gaze darted toward Chloe, eliciting yet another question from Tyson.

“Oh, crap. Are you two dating?”

Chloe’s mouth hung open, prompting her mom to chime in.

“Ay, Ty. Stop it. He didn’t come here to get harassed by some horny teenager.”

“God, Mom! Don’t talk like that!” Tyson bellowed. “Well, are you?” His gaze shifted back to Logan.

Logan’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “No,” he said as he let out a breathy, discomfited laugh. “We just, you know, work together.” His eyes darted to her again, before offering her a weak smile.

God, Chloe really hated her brother sometimes.
Leave it to him to make everyone in the room uncomfortable. With her tail tucked firmly between her legs, Chloe went back to her father’s side, thankful he’d been too busy working on the chandelier to have noticed the conversation.

When Tyson’s incessant droning continued, Logan cut in.

“How about we all go to the Golden Gate Bridge? The rain has let up and it’s gorgeous right after a heavy downpour.”

An invitation for her family to go sightseeing with a man who had could barely say the word
commitment
left Chloe stunned.

“Will there be hotties there?”

“Seriously, Ty, shut up about that,” Chloe barked.

****

With everyone loaded into the rental car, Logan took the wheel. But not before she pulled up a song. The wheels had no sooner begun to tread the wet pavement when the lyrics to
I Think I Like You
hit Logan’s ears. She hoped it would make up for her brother putting him on the spot.

When a slow smile formed on his lips, her insides warmed.

In between answering Tyson’s rapid fire questions about everything he was seeing, Logan gave her sideways glances. When he reached a hand up to tap at the screen of the stereo while they sat at a red light, Chloe edged forward in her seat to listen intently to the lyrics.

With
Every Little Thing
filling her ears, she leaned back into the seat and closed her eyes. Moments like these were to be cherished, even if they were only fleeting. But, God, she hoped they weren’t.

*

Awkward introductions aside, it was easy for Logan to allow his romantic side to take over with Chloe. It had taken him minimal effort to put a look of pure elation on her face after refusing to admit his physical connection with her. With that kind of response, he didn’t even know why he tried to resist it.

Her brother’s voice was like a scratchy record, droning on about nonsense, but he took his
Minou
’s lead and blocked it out while enjoying the few minutes he had stolen with Chloe.

When they arrived at a section of the bridge designated for sightseeing, he climbed out of the vehicle with the Stephens’ family in tow. The air was damp with moisture and a thick fog hung all around the bridge, giving it an ethereal quality. A glance in Toni and Dalton’s direction found them snapping pictures on a cell phone and posing for selfies, as was Tyson.

When Chloe’s father reached a hand out, snatched Chloe’s wrist and tugged her into the shot, that same twinge of jealousy Logan had felt before punched him in the gut. But it he wasn’t green with envy—he was blue with a longing to experience the kind of relationship with a father that Chloe had. It was sadness that he would
never
experience that sort of paternal affection or admiration.

Turning away from the touching scene before him, he gazed out at the white mist while listening to the light-hearted banter and joking that seemed to flow easily within Chloe’s family. Even Tyson sounded happy. When he felt a tap on his shoulder, he expected to turn and see Chloe, but instead, Toni was staring up at him.

“You’re right. It’s gorgeous here. I can only imagine what it’s like on a clear day. Thank you for suggesting this and getting Tyson off our backs.”