asked him to do, everything had changed. He was going to have to say something about what he’d been hired to do, and why. If Jake didn’t say something by the end of the day, Logan was letting the cat out of the bag.
And he
Chapter Six
The taxi turned off of Ballard Way and pulled into Floral and Fauna’s parking lot. The place was tiny and locally owned, and supplied almost all of the flowers for Veronica Vale Weddings. Veronica found the place through a wonderful recommendation given by a cousin a few years back, and had used Floral and Fauna since. She was probably keeping them in business.
But there was one matter of business to take care of before she entered the shop.
“Stop here,” she told the taxi, and watched as Logan’s truck bumbled around the corner and into the parking lot behind them. “What does he want?”
She paid the cab driver and got out of the car. When Logan spotted her walking up to his truck, he paled, looking as if he’d seen the Ghost of Girlfriends Past.
“Good morning,” he said, stepping out. “What a coincidence, meeting you like this. What are you doing here?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” She tucked her bag under her arm and planted her opposite hand on her hip. She wasn’t budging this time. There was nothing in this neighborhood for him—he was following her. The question was why.
“I’m, uh”—he scanned the buildings lining the lot—“here to go shopping.”
“At Cigars & Stuff?” Veronica rolled her eyes and stared at the obnoxious red-and-black advertisement plastered on the building beside them.
“Why not?”
“It’s, like, nine a.m.”
“I smoke with breakfast.”
He was such a liar. A hot liar, but still.
“Seriously, Logan. I watched you follow me here out the back window. What do you want?”
He paused, his gaze shifting from one of her eyes to the other. “I guess I might as well tell you now. I was going to make Jake tell you by the end of the day anyway.”
She froze. “Tell me what? If you have a disease or something, so help me—”
“No, oh God no.” His hands found her shoulders. “Nothing like that. It’s just…Jake hired me to protect you.”
Veronica felt her eyebrows pinch. “
“He wanted me to keep you safe.” He removed his hands as she gave him a death glare. “He hired me to be your bodyguard while he and Leah are in San Francisco.”
Wonderful. Just wonderful. First her lover, and then her neighbor, and then her bodyguard. What next? Her private waxer?
“Why would Jake worry about my safety? It’s not like I’m incapable of taking care of myself while Leah’s out of town.”
“Then call her,” Logan said, nodding to the bag clutched under her arm. “Maybe Jake’s told her everything by now.”
“Told her what?”
“Everything.”
“But I’m asking you.” She took a slow step forward. Surprisingly, Logan backed away. “Why does my future brother-in-law think I need a bodyguard?”
“Because that secret admirer you think you have isn’t what you think he is.”
The note she’d found in her mailbox this morning burned a hole through her bag and warmed against her side. “They told you about him?”
“Veronica, he’s taken a sharp turn into the stalker zone.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” She turned and headed toward Floral and Fauna. “You’re
Logan followed her around the building. “He sent you more than that, but Jake kept the whole thing quiet. He didn’t want to freak Leah out so she’d cancel her book tour, and if you found out, the first thing you’d do is call her. There’s more to it, but the bottom line is that Jake asked me to take care of things, and I am.”
She whirled around on him. “What did Jake keep quiet? What are you talking about?”
He seemed to pause at her words, as if contemplating whether he should be the one to tell her. But tell her what, exactly?
“I think it’s best if you hear it from him.”
“You know what Jake’s problem is? He’s overprotective and thinks that because he’s marrying my sister, he should have some say over my life. You can tell him he’s wrong.” Without thinking, she jerked the note from her admirer out of her bag and shook it in front of his face. “There’s nothing stalkerish about these notes. There’s nothing wrong with someone being honest about their feelings. In fact, in light of what happened last night, I find it refreshing.”
Logan’s face lost its color. “Is that from him?”
“It must’ve arrived in the mail yesterday. I found it this morning, and it’s lovely.”
“What’s it say?”
She smiled smugly, holding the note against her chest. “That I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He thinks about me constantly, even when we’re not together, and can’t tear his eyes away from me.”
“Does that mean he’s watching you now?”
“The note didn’t say he watches me every minute.” Shivers danced up Veronica’s arms. “The notes aren’t creepy. They’re sweet.”
“They’re only sweet if the guy makes a move. If he sits in the shadows watching you, it’s pervy.” Logan made a move for the note, but she jerked away. “What’s on the back? Is that…blood?”
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a wad.” She frowned, looking at the light-red smudges that marred the back. “The note was written in red ink. It’s not blood. It’s stains from the pen.”
“Unless he wrote the note in blood.”
“Listen to you! You’re crazy!”
He reached for the note again, so Veronica shoved it in her bag and zipped it closed.
God, she didn’t have time to go round and round with Logan, or call her sister to find out what Jake was keeping from her. She was going to be late for her appointment, and she was never late.
“I don’t have time for this,” she said, swinging the door open. “You need to leave.”
The door jingled, signaling their entrance. Logan followed on her heels, holding the door open for her. “Not that simple,” he said. “Jake hired me to do a job and it isn’t finished yet. Now more than ever, you need me.”
“I don’t need anyone. Especially you.” As a round woman wearing a green apron and a wide smile emerged from the back, Veronica laughed. “I’m sure you can leave. It’s not like Patsy is my secret admirer.”
Ignoring Logan’s presence completely, Veronica pulled her iPad out of her bag, set it on a small oval table near the front window, and took a seat. Logan sat beside her, sneezed, then gave his nose a hard rub.
“You okay?” she asked, glaring at him. “Any harder and you’re going to rub your nose off.”
“I’m allergic to flowers.” He sneezed.
“Then leave.”
“I can’t.”
“Then,” she said, channeling her best Donald Trump with an arching brow, “you’re fired. Now go home.”
He smirked. “Cute, but you’re not the one who hired me.”
Why wouldn’t he leave? Every time she looked at him she thought about his body over hers, his muscles
