Chapter 156

Having made his calls and purchases, Logan was about to leave for the day when Cameron burst unannounced into his office. By now, he’d been so caught up in his gift buying that he had forgotten he’d invited Cameron for a quick meeting.

It should be the shortest meeting of his life. He only had one thing to say to her.

“Did you get my money?” she asked.

“No,” Logan replied. “And you will not be receiving any from me either.”

“I have the video –”

“A doctored video will not change my mind.”

Cameron’s face turned a bright shade of red. “It’s not doctored!”

“I have many expensive lawyers,” Logan said. “Perhaps you’d like to speak with them? But I have no more time for you.”

Logan already had a date lined up with Tina for the end of the week, thanks to Hazel. He wasn’t going to play this game in the interim.

“You are making a big mistake,” Cameron threatened. “When the journalists hear about this…”

“What journalists? The tabloids?” Logan laughed. “I’m already in their headlines three days a week. You think your little game frightens me?”

Cameron fumed, her mouth became a hard line, her lips thin.

“Your grandfather will believe me,” she said.

“No, that won’t work either,” Logan said. “Grandfather knows that I am looking for a high society girlfriend. In fact, I have a date with Miss St. Louis at the end of the week.”

That left Cameron speechless.

Before she could recover, Logan’s phone began to ring.

“You can show yourself out now, please, Cameron. I have actual work to do.”

Lifting the phone receiver, Logan gestured for Cameron to leave. Blackmail or no, Cameron was still his employee. If she gave him a legitimate reason to fire her, he would.

She must have known that, because she slowly backed up to the door, then disappeared out of it.

Logan moved his focus onto the phone call. “Forgive me. Who did you say this was again?”

The man on the other line introduced himself once more. “Mr. Higgins, sir. From the jewelry store. We spoke earlier this afternoon regarding a rush order delivered to Miss Whitaker.”

“Yes? Is there some problem?”

“I’m afraid there is, Sir,” Mr. Higgins said. “Miss Whitaker is asking to return the items.”

Logan’s brow drew together in confusion. “Is she asking for the money instead?” Hazel didn’t seem the type…

“No, Sir. She wants the refund to be returned to your account. She simply does not want the items.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, caught off guard. Even when he pulled himself together, he was still struck with confusion.

“Do whatever she asks,” Logan said. “But be certain to keep the commission for yourself, Mr. Higgins. For your trouble.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Logan hung up the phone. A few moments later, he received similar calls from the clothing and shoe stores.

The florist had a similar but different story. “Miss Whitaker wishes to pay for the flowers herself, and for your card to be refunded.”

“Absolutely not,” Logan said.

Did she truly hate his gifts so badly? Or…

Was he going about this the wrong way?

With the other women he’d dated, gifts aplenty healed every wound. Hazel had always been special, though. He knew that. Falling back on his old playbook wasn’t going to work with her.

He had to try something else.

I go into the office the next morning with a heavy sense of trepidation on my shoulders. After Logan’s wealth display the night before, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to seeing him again. I thought of just calling out sick, but I imagined Logan wouldn’t fall for that. I also wasn’t that big of a coward.

Logan was the one who had messed this up by trying to buy my forgiveness. I wasn’t going to hide away because his efforts missed the mark in a big, insulting way. I was the wronged party here and had nothing to be ashamed of.

Yet, even with that confidence, I still wasn’t sure what to expect. Would Logan be angry? Would he even understand what he did wrong?

I had just settled and sat down on my chair when a message from Logan popped up on my computer.

My office. Now.

With a sigh, I mentally prepared myself as I stood from the chair. Well, at least, maybe we could get this out of the way early. If we fought now, the rest of the day might have a chance of being salvaged.

Or I’d be upset all day.

Guess we’d see.

I grabbed my notepad and pen and entered Logan’s office.

He sat behind his desk as usual, but he wasn’t looking at any particular work. Instead, he was anxiously weaving his fingers together on his desktop.

He looked at me and I braced myself for whatever was about to come out of his mouth. His eyes were earnest, but I had to be strong. I couldn’t cave just because I liked him and he was handsome.

“Hazel,” he said.

I closed my eyes, gathering all of my willpower. I wanted him so badly, that he made me weak.

“Will you come over to my place this evening for dinner?” Logan asked.

At first, I couldn’t believe my ears. “Dinner?”

Logan said, almost shyly, “I want to cook for you.”

I blinked my eyes open. I definitely didn’t believe my ears now. I needed to see to believe. “You… want to… cook?”

“For you,” Logan said.

Surely he meant that a chef would prepare something and he’d reheat it? Still, it was a nice gesture. A much better one than buying me a bunch of stuff. For one thing, this sounded more like he wanted to spend time with me, which was all that I really wanted from him.

Not money. Not things. Time.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay,” he replied and smiled wide in relief. “Great. Any allergies?”

“No.”

“Great. Give me a head start tonight. Come over around 8?”

The rest of the day flew by in a blur. All I could really think about was this upcoming dinner and what it could possibly be like.

At quarter to eight, I made my way over to Logan’s He buzzed me through the gate and I parked in front of his mansion. The front door was open.

Logan called me from another room. “Over here, Hazel!”

I followed the sound of his voice into a kitchen. It was a disaster area, flour everywhere – on all the counters, on the floors, on Logan himself – somehow in his hair?

He turned to smile at me, and my heart skipped a beat. He even had flour on his nose.

I sniffed. “Is something… burning?”

His smile dropped. “Oh, shit. The chicken.”

Quickly, he grabbed a pair of oven mitts and then opened the oven door. A poof of smoke escaped. Logan reached into the chaos and retrieved some kind of charred meat burnt onto a pan.

“I presume that… is the chicken?” I asked.

Logan sighed. “I’ve never really cooked before. Well, at least nothing this complicated.”

Logan was an extremely talented man. He was handsome, well-spoken, and calculating when it came to business. But the man, apparently, could not cook.

It wasn’t terribly surprising. When would he ever have had the need?

But here he was, trying. For me.

“I’m messing this up,” he said, frustrated. He lowered the pan onto some potholders on the counter. Then took off an oven mitt and ran a hand through his hair.

“No, actually,” I said and stepped into the room.

He glanced at me.

“This is kind of perfect,” I explained.

“Everything is ruined,” Logan said. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

He was so smart in every other way. How could he be so foolish in love?

I walked closer still, right up into his space. I placed my hand on his chest, uncaring if it was now coated in flour.

“This is all I ever wanted,” I said.

“Charred chicken and overcooked peas?”

“You. Me. Spending time together. Whatever else doesn’t matter.”

Slowly, understanding began to flicker behind his eyes.

“Hazel…”

He leaned down and kissed me.

And all was forgiven.

For now.