Page 1 of Unmistakably Us

One

January made the mistake of walking past his table after her shift. Logan grabbed her wrist and looked up at her with those seduction-colored eyes. “You going home with me tonight?”

His palm seared her wrist, but even worse, everything else about him ignited her thong. January Snow Thorne was born at night, but it wasn’t last night, and she wasn’t about to make that mistake. Even though it looks like one hella delicious mistake.

The air chilled her skin where his hand had been when he let go to lean back in his chair. Still staring at her, he patiently awaited an answer.

Seriously? Feigning confidence, she finally found her voice. “Does that really work for you? Just sit there night after night ogling a girl, then, out of the blue, you ask if she’ll go home with you?”

A raised eyebrow and folded arms were all she got as an answer.

“You’ve never even tipped me. Now you want to have sex with me?” Logan’s silence was really starting to push her buttons; why didn’t he say something? Now that she really thought about it, why didn’t he tip her—ever? He tips the other girls and even the bartenders, why not me? Her boots stuck to the floor as she shifted her feet nervously. Focusing on his outstretched, denim-wrapped legs, she tried that Zen crap her sister always preached about. It didn’t work.

“Why is that, by the way? You never tipping me?” The wooden chair scraped across the beer-stained planks as he rose to his full height and fished out his wallet. Surely, he’s not going to offer me a tip now.

Logan tucked a twenty under his empty amber bottle, and she took a moment to appreciate the way his shoulders moved and bunched under the worn leather of his jacket when he returned his wallet to his pocket. “Because you’re not a whore.” He spoke softly to the tabletop, and January almost missed it.

“You don’t tip me because I’m not a hooker, so you tip other dancers, waitresses, and actual hookers, just not me?”

His chuckle bubbled up from somewhere deep, and it was rich and full. It traveled straight through her ears to her pussy. Damn.

“No, sweetheart, you never, ever tip a hooker,” he managed to say while he continued a softer laugh to himself.

“Well then, um, you’re still weird, and I’m late, so see you around…never.” Before she had a chance to unstick her shoes from the floor and turn to flee, Logan was right in front of her, invading her personal space with only his head as he leaned in to speak into her ear. His lips were a mere breath away from the sensitive skin. If she tilted just a bit, she’d know if his lips were as soft as they looked. Whoa, down girl. This guy is a dog, most certainly not the kind of man who stays around to cuddle after he gets what he wants.

“I don’t tip you because you’re not a whore. When I fuck you, and make no mistake about it, I will fuck you, you’ll know I didn’t pay for the pleasure.” His words just started to register when he nipped her ear lobe then headed out the door. And here she was, stuck to the floor, choking on her tongue, and on the verge of needing a new pair of underwear.

When her shock wore off, she unstuck her boots then stomped them in frustration. “Ugh, men. Stupid, pigheaded…hot men.” January steamed as she headed toward the side door. She didn’t want to run into him in the parking lot if he were still there. Mostly because she wasn’t sure if she would slug him or hop in whatever piece of shit he was driving and blow him all the way to wherever he took her so she could screw his brains out when they got there.

Logan was a distraction she didn’t need but she still wanted. A temptation she cursed but desired. She knew nothing could come of it, but didn’t that make him perfect? He most certainly was not the type who lets you stick around for a bagel and a glass of OJ. He was exactly what she was looking for in a fling, so why was she hesitating?

He was hot as sin, tatted as fuck, and that voice pulled some Criss Angel magic and made her panties disappear when he spoke her name. And those fucking eyes. If seduction were a color, they were it. Whisky and cola. With ice, lots of ice. Brown sounds too pedestrian. I’m sticking with seduction.

Danger. That was why. He was danger-zone personified. All he would have to do was speak it and give her that look, and it would be so. Consequences be damned. While she was brave in many areas of her life, she wasn’t that brave. Not when it came to someone who could make her forget her place, and Logan could certainly do just that.

He’s the type of man girls get stupid for. The kind where strong, beautiful women will let a man cheat or whatever the fuck he wants to do and no one could understand why. Well, the Logan Chapman’s of the world were why.

January wasn’t immune. There was no inoculation, so she would do well to stay away from him. Find another fling. But none will be as exciting, and you know it. “Shut it,” she told her inner voice. But it did make her think. No way would she defy her parents and get involved with someone like him. When no answer popped into her head, she sighed and let all those thoughts fly away. She knew they’d return before long; they always did.

She knew Logan as two completely different people. But so am I. At the club, he was the raunchy as fuck, smoking hot dude who slept with most of the girls here and was always trying to add her to that list.

When he was around the Reids, he was someone else entirely. Still hot as Hell, but he never came on to her, never tried to get in her pants, and always seemed to want to get to know her, not just her pussy. They always gravitated toward each other whenever they were in the same place, except the club. Here, she was Domino, not January…and he was another customer with boundary issues, not Logan.

Maybe if she had met Club Logan before she met Family Friend Logan, she could see him differently, but as it was, he confused and excited the shit out of her. She hated to admit it, but he was kind of her best friend in Florida other than her sister. Their relationship away from the club was easy and natural, but here, it was all chaos and sexual tension.

Cracking the door just enough to scan the area, she saw the taillights of a Harley heading west and a Dodge heading east, but the parking lot was close to deserted. Just Temptra’s POS and Ruger’s 1970 Chevrolet SS Chevelle. It was a cherry, four-hundred-and-fifty horses, five-hundred foot-pound of torque, and it purred like a kitten.

Shit, I could stand here on the verge of an orgasm for the second time tonight just looking at that American muscle.Cars were January’s passion. If her parents knew she spent the first two years of college taking night classes at the vocational school too, they’d shit a brick. They’d shit an entire truckload if they knew I moonlighted as a mechanic the rest of the time.

Her eyes drifted to her baby, parked next to the building. Demon was no muscle car—although, that was certainly going to happen someday—but he was fast as fuck and a hell of a rush to ride. It was that secret mechanic job that paid for him, that, and her boss from Jake’s Automotive knew a guy here who gave her a great deal.

She still had a tidy nest egg left. January had socked away every cent, including the allowance her parents sent her for proper clothing to maintain appearances. Until Demon, she never spent a dime. In the back of her mind, she recognized it for what it was—a safety net, a way out. Although she’d never voice that in a million years. Hell, I’m not even brave enough to use it for its intended purpose.Who am I kidding? I won’t need a safety net because I will never walk away from my parent’s plan.

It was that reality that’d had her splurging on the beautiful piece of machinery before her. She’d leave it with John or one of the Reids who could appreciate it the way she could once she was back with the Thornes, walking down the aisle to a marriage that would be the death to the essence of who she was.

Dead girl walking.

Funny thing was, Gus had yet to chew her out over her unsafe mode of transportation or unsavory current employment. Maybe it was because she was so wrapped up in her new life with John or transitioning the baby to live with her fathers that she had let it slip, but January didn’t think that was the case. It was guilt, plain and simple.

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