Who was she kidding? More than a little hot. He was sexy as hell, both for his looks and just who he was. He was smart and strong, and that drew her to him. Spending Labor Day weekend in bed with Anton had only proved, once and for all, that a pretty face and body on their own just didn't cut it for her; she needed a man of real substance to hold her interest. And Logan had it in spades. Talk to the man for two minutes, and you could see his still waters ran deep. He enticed her, no doubt about it.
She squeezed her eyes shut. It was clear that despite their easier vibe that morning, for the most part, Logan barely tolerated her. They weren't friends. He thought she was some stuck-up princess. If he knew she was having dirty thoughts about him . . . about what his sensual mouth would feel like to kiss, or what his strong, calloused hands would feel like against her skin, or what his beard would feel like against her thighs . . . he'd probably grimace so hard at her that his ruggedly handsome face would crack.
With a heavy sigh, she took a few more deep breaths. It was only a quarter to ten, but going to sleep early seemed like a wonderful idea.
Her cell phone on the nightstand buzzed with a text message. Already sleepy, she debated whether to look at it or not. Curiosity got the best of her and she reached for it.
Hi Tess, it's Terrence, read the text. I'm okay. Still in the hospital, staying overnight for observation. Because unfortunately, you were right, I have a concussion. You missed your calling, you should have been a doctor. Haha.
She smiled and typed back quickly, Hi there! I hate that I was right. But you're a lucky man-you hit that floor hard! Very glad to hear from you, and that you're okay.
Hi! Yes, I'm okay. Just will be slow going for the next few weeks, I guess.
Do whatever they tell you and you'll be fine sooner than later.
I will, Terrence answered. Thank you again for hanging out with me on the floor. Really was nice of you. I'll admit now, when I woke up, I was dizzy as hell and that scared me. Your being there kept me calm. I won't forget that.
"Awww," she said aloud, then wrote, I'm glad I helped. Sincerely. Stay in touch, please let me know when they release you from the hospital.
Okay. Probably tomorrow. Will rest at hotel for a day or two, then head home. Hell of a Happy New Year plan, huh?
She chuckled wryly and wrote, Yeah, sounds like your New Year's Eve will be a rocking party.
Not anymore, I'm afraid, he texted. Hope you have good plans tomorrow night? Do something fun for both of us.
She sighed at that. She had no plans. Allie had invited her over to their house for a small party, but she'd declined. She'd stopped drinking at Christmas to start cleansing her body, and the noise of strangers held no appeal this time around. A quiet New Year's Eve was what I had in mind, she wrote. Sorry to disappoint you, but I'll be home alone with my dog. My choice.
Guess we'll both ring in the new year quietly, then, Terrence wrote. Okay, going to sleep now. Just wanted to let you know I am alive and okay.
Thank you for doing so, she responded. If I hadn't heard by tomorrow morning, I was going to call the hospital and try to find out how you were.
You're very thoughtful. Thank you again, Tess. Happy New Year to you.
You're very welcome. Happy New Year to you too.
She put her phone back on the nightstand and snuggled up under the covers again. As she stared serenely into the flames and drifted off to sleep, she wondered what various people in her life would be doing the next night for New Year's Eve. Her brothers . . . her closest friends . . . even Logan Carter.
* * *
Logan helped his mother from the front seat of his truck, then carefully wrapped her arm through his as they walked across the parking lot to the hospital.
"I'm not made of glass, you know," she reminded him, but patted his arm as they walked.
"I do know," he said, but slowed his stride to match hers. She was weaker and slower, that was clear. "Why'd they have to schedule your radiation session on New Year's Eve, for Pete's sake? That's just gloomy."
"Well," she started, but shook her head and swallowed the words.
"No, what?" he nudged.
But she didn't answer. Instead, she said, "So what are we having for dinner tonight?"
"You're avoiding," he said flatly. "What were you going to say?"
"Shut up and tell me what we're having for dinner."
He chuckled wryly. When Annmarie Carter didn't want to talk about something, nothing would pry it out of her. He knew that all too well, because he was just like her. "I was thinking I'd make you a nice juicy steak. Get some iron in you."
"That sounds nice." The wind blew harder, icy and crystalline. She huddled closer to him and continued, "Any chance of some broccoli rabe sautéed in garlic and oil to go with it? You make it the best. And mashed potatoes?"
"Whatever you want," he said. The thought struck him that it could be her last New Year's meal, and a lump formed in his throat. He withdrew her arm from the crook of his elbow and slipped his arm around her waist to hold her closer as they walked against the wind. "Whatever you want, Mom, I'll be happy to make it for you."
"Thanks. You're a better cook than you own up to," she said.
"Don't tell people. They'll want me to do it for them too."
"How about finding a nice girl to cook for?"
Logan rolled his eyes. "Don't you ever get tired of that, lady?"
"What, hoping you find someone special?" Annmarie huffed out a breath. "No chance. It's what I want for you more than anything."
"I know, Mom," he murmured. He hated to disappoint her, but having been married once, brief as it'd been, was all the evidence he needed that he wasn't cut out for it.
They reached the front doors of the hospital, and the wide panes of glass parted with a swooshing sound. God, Logan hated the smell of hospitals. That piercingly antiseptic scent always brought back so many bad memories, and bringing his mom in for chemo and radiation had only added to them. He unzipped his jacket as Annmarie slowly pulled off her soft green hat. Making their way across the lobby to the elevators, his attention was so focused on her that he didn't hear the voice calling him at first.
"Logan," his mother said, "I think that man is trying to get your attention."
Logan turned to see a man in a wheelchair being pushed toward the doors. "Hey, you!" he was saying loudly. "Tess's friend! Tall blond guy!"
It took Logan a few seconds before he realized it was the man from the hotel floor the day before. "Hey, Terrence! How're you doing? You look okay to me."
"Eh, I'm fine," Terrence said. "I didn't catch your name yesterday, I'm sorry. Tall blond guy-how rude." He laughed at himself.
"Logan," he said, reaching out to shake the man's hand. "So they're springing you? You're okay, then?"
"Well, Tess was right, I do have a concussion," Terrence said. "They kept me overnight but they're releasing me now."
"If they're releasing you, you must be all right." Logan looked him over. Terrence had color in his cheeks, and seemed okay. "Is someone coming to get you?"
"I called a car service. I'm waiting," Terrence said. "Going back to the hotel to take it easy for a few days, then I'll go home. Why are you here? You okay?"
"I'm fine," Logan said as his mother joined them. "This is my mother, Annmarie Carter. Mom, this is Terrence. Met him yesterday."
They exchanged pleasantries, then Terrence asked, "So how do you know Tess?"
"I'm a house manager," Logan said. "Her house-or her family, rather-is one of my clients. She had a mishap the night before, so she had to stay at the hotel. I was there to give her a ride home."
"She's an extraordinary woman," Terrence declared. "And oh boy, is she nice to look at."
Logan had to chuckle as he admitted, "Yeah, she is."
"You have a girlfriend, Logan?" Terrence asked.
Logan blinked at the forward question as his mother quipped, "I wish."
Terrence laughed, then said, "I talked to her briefly last night. You know she's staying home by herself tonight? A woman that beautiful should be taken out on New Year's Eve. I'd ask her myself, but I know I'm too out of it to even make it through dinner. You should take her out."
"You don't say," Logan muttered.
"Who's Tess?" Annmarie asked her son.
Oh great, here we go. Inside, Logan stifled a groan. "One of my Red Mountain clients, Mom. Stress on the word client."