Page 63 of Under the Mistletoe
“That you really wanted him. Not me. ” The words ripped something from him, putting his greatest insecurity on display.
She stared out the side window for a moment, taking deep, controlled breaths. Then met his eyes again. “I don’t want him. I made that clear the night we put names on the stockings.”
She wanted him. Not Liam. Him. “I know. I’m sorry, but you weren’t yourself the day he showed up. All nervous, excited chatter, not looking me in the eye. The only thing I could think of was that it was Liam.”
“That could have been cleared up with one short conversation if you had given me five minutes before you left.”
“I know.” He closed his eyes. “I told you I’m not good at this. And I should have just found a phone and figured out a way to call you, but I didn’t figure you’d…”
“What? Care? How could Inotcare?” Her voice reached a higher pitch.
He gripped the steering wheel a little harder. “I’m used to disappearing and no one notices.”
“That isn’t possible.”
He released a humorless laugh and propped his elbow on the window. “I left my ninth birthday party and no one even noticed.”
“I doubt no one?—”
“No, really. Liam and I always shared parties, obviously, and everyone kept showing him all the attention. So I decided to go to my room and see how long it took them to come get me. Joke was on me. They only noticed three hours later because they were ready to do the cake and I wasn’t around to blow out the candles.”
“It must have been hard growing up in his shadow.”
“I guess. But I learned to love to read. And when I wrote my first story at age twelve, the family paid attention to me. For the first time, I wasn’t invisible.”
“Then why not publish as Logan Kingsley instead of hiding behind the name Victor Holt?”
His head jerked toward her, and her eyes widened as if she just realized what she’d said. “How long have you known?”
Her teeth pinched her lip, then she returned to staring out the front. “The morning at your house. When I went to the room to shower, the towels weren’t in the closet. Your mom had a lot of Victor Holt books, and I put the pieces together. That and Cal seemed to really like being called Calavar.”
“I think Cal is the closest I’ll ever come to owning a horse. It seemed fitting.” He shifted his position, staring at the sun’s reflection a moment. “Mom stores my books because if I need to send out a copy, the closest post office to my cabin isn’t that close. But I should have told you.”
“You should have.That’swhy I was acting weird. There were plenty of opportunities to tell me while we were working on the stockings. Why didn’t you?”
“I was afraid if I told you, then you’d just see Victor Holt and I’d never know if you liked plain ol’ me. Wait. Why would that make you act weird?”
“I felt embarrassed about how I gushed over Victor Holt on Thanksgiving. Then there are the things I have written on boards. And the current story line and…”
Oh.
His heart sank a little lower at all the comparisons that Luke and Austin had made to his relationship with Devin. He really should have considered the story more carefully. He tapped on the bottom of the steering wheel. “Sorry.”
“Sorry? It’s like reading a love letter. Well, it was, then it was like reading my own personal tragedy.”
He winced but didn’t look at her. He had been a little raw when Rand had left for Anathia.
“What I want to know, Logan, is if Rand is going to go get the girl he loves?”
His head jerked up. “You think he should?”
Her blue eyes lit with amusement and maybe a touch of desire. “He definitely should.”
“Right.” Logan popped open his door.
“Logan?” Devin’s voice sounded uncertain, but he didn’t respond. He circled the front of the Bronco and knocked on her door. She opened her door but didn’t move. “What are you doing?”
He waited for her to climb out. When she leaned her back against the Bronco, he placed a hand on each side of her, sheltering her from the wind. “I think if Rand was finally going to get a chance to kiss Astryn, he wouldn’t want the first kiss to be leaning over a center console. That is”—he brushed a wisp of hair behind her ear, his finger lingering along her jaw—“if Astryn wanted Rand to kiss her.”
