Smoke & Mirrors by Skye Jordan

21

Isabel

Isurprised myself with the number of pieces I have available to sell. I was building stock to put up online when the whole Aiden fiasco went south, then forgot about them in the mess of getting fired and leaving town.

Logan swapped shifts to work the bar during the party along with Tucker and Cole, which only increases my discomfort. I know they’re being supportive, but it’s hard enough to face potential failure as it is. I’d rather the three most important men in my life didn’t witness it.

Only, as it turns out, my fears over tonight went unrealized. The women love my work. So much so that this all feels too good to be true, and I find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop. I keep reminding myself that if I look for bad, I’ll see bad, so I keep pulling my focus back from the fear as I watch a dozen women comb through the racks holding everything I’ve made—tops and yoga pants and sports bras, and tables layered with bags and hair accessories and leather jewelry.

My stomach hasn’t stopped skittering around in a circle since Natalie organized this party. She’s been keeping an eye on everything and helps women when I’m busy with others. Betsy is acting as if she’s my sales rep, Tucker wanders by with sexy compliments for the women trying on my clothes, and Logan and Cole keep everyone’s wineglass filled. Even Lucky makes the rounds, charming buyers.

I feel… I feel…

Loved.

I feel loved.

The realization hits me hard, and tears sting my eyes. I guess after feeling unloved for so long, basically since birth, I didn’t realize how amazing it would feel to have people in my corner for nothing more than support. No ulterior motive. Okay, well, Logan has one.

I glance at the bar—out of fear or the need for reassurance, I’m not sure. But Logan’s gaze is waiting. He smiles and nods, a silent you’ve got this. God, this man… I don’t know what to think. I’ve never had a “normal” relationship. The men I pick all have some major flaw, and I mean major. Doug had a gambling addiction—I should have seen that coming, given I worked in the room where he gambled. Simon and Matthew both cheated on me—as if my self-esteem needed another kick in the ribs. Ty turned out to be married, which still haunts me. And of course, Aiden is a narcissistic prick.

But Logan is the real deal. Tucker and Cole would never have stayed friends with him if he wasn’t. Honestly, I don’t quite know what to do with him, or my feelings for him.

“Isabel, honey?” The question comes from one of the older women who owns a boutique in town. I pry my gaze from Logan’s and smile at Helen. “Would it be possible to put in an order with you? Seems everything here is spoken for.”

I glance at the rolling store displays Natalie borrowed from a local shop for the night, and I’m shocked to see them nearly empty. Women are chatting with garments slung over their arms in ownership.

“Hold on there, Helen.” This comes from Amber, the owner of the only yoga studio in town. “Her pieces are more suited for my studio than your store.”

“I can work with both of you,” I tell them. “And I can tailor the pieces to fit your demographics so you’ll both have exclusive designs.”

“Oh,” Helen says, beaming at me. “That sounds perfect.”

I sit down and take an order from Helen, using my sketch pad to identify which styles she likes and how I might change them slightly to make them unique for her customers.

Once we identify the styles she likes, she puts in an order that staggers me. “You must have one busy shop.”

“This is my slowest shop. I have two in Portland, one in Eugene, and one in Salem.”

I’m taken aback. This is a fantastic turn of events. “Oh, wow.”

She smiles. “I’ve done a lot of buying, been to a lot of merchandizing shows, and I know talent when I see it. You’re gifted, sweetheart. But you already know that. This must be so different for you from New York.”

“It is,” I admit. “But it’s for the better.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. I guess there’s still hope we’ll be able to order from you on a regular basis, then.”

Holy shit. “That would be amazing.”

“It would.” She pushes to her feet. “Now I need to sample some of Natalie’s desserts.”

My phone dings with a message, and I wait for Helen to melt back into the group before I look.

Unisex bathroom, three minutes.

I smile and text back: Make it one.

He’s still serving customers when I head toward the bathroom. Inside, I press cold water to my cheeks and study my reflection. I have color in my face and light in my eyes. Only now, seeing it, do I realize just how wrung out I felt and looked in New York.

Logan slips in the door and leans against it. His gaze travels over me. “You look incredible.”

I pulled out a few of my few-but-coveted designer pieces to wear tonight, trying to give the impression I have more in my wardrobe than torn jeans and hoodies.

“You’re on fire out there. Are you going to have anything left?”

I shake my head and laugh. “It’s not looking like it. I’ve been trying to ballpark it, and I think I’m going to come out of tonight with close to five grand. Some of it I haven’t earned yet, I have to fill some orders, but, God, I never thought that could happen from a small get-together in a small town.”

“I love seeing you in your element. You’re so charismatic. People are drawn to you.”

I close the distance between us and press my body to his. “The only person I care to draw at the moment is you.”

He lowers his head and kisses me.

“This is good, right?” I ask. “You and me?”

“It’s really good.”

I take a deep breath and push out the idea that puts me on the edge of a cliff. “What would you say to the idea of me staying?”

Something shifts in his gaze. Surprise? Wariness? I’m not sure what, but it doesn’t exactly make my heart float.

He slides his arms from around my waist and takes a step back. “What about Los Angeles and San Francisco?”

This isn’t how I thought this talk would go at all. “They’re not going anywhere, and I kind of want to see how this unfolds.”

“Us this or business this?”

“Both.” I reach for his T-shirt and pull him to me, pushing up on my toes to kiss him again.

Only it doesn’t change his serious expression, one that tamps down my mood.

“We need to talk,” he says. “About everything. You can’t keep things from me.”

My heart dips, and annoyance tingles along my nerves. “I’m looking for a fresh start. I’d rather not dredge up the past when it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I need honesty.”

“You say that as if you expect me to lie. Why are you acting like telling the truth is going to be a stretch for me?”

“Because all you’ve given me since you got here are a lot of half-truths. Half-truths got my mom killed.”

“I’m not lying to you, and I’m not in any danger. Why don’t you trust me?”

“I want to trust you.”

“Then do it. I know we both have baggage, but I’m not your mom. For that matter, I’m not Emily either.”

A knock comes at the door, then Tucker’s “Your dog got into the kitchen and dumped over the trash can. Shit’s everywhere. Get out here and deal with him.”

Logan rolls his eyes and slides his thumb across my cheek. “Can we talk more about this tonight?”

I cross my arms, feeling hurt and confused. “Not if this is the way you’re going to act.”

“Come on, you just sprang that on me. We’ve been locked into this is not a thing from day one.”

“I wasn’t even considering staying until today.” God, this really took a wrong turn, and I’m both hurt and a little surprised he’s pulling back. I obviously read him wrong. “Look, if you want to keep this casual, that’s fine. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Going back to being friends is always an option. We know how to do that, so—”

He silences me with a kiss. A kiss that melts my frustration.

When he pulls away, he says, “I’m not saying I want to end this thing that’s not a thing.”

That makes me laugh. He wraps me tight, and I’m filled with the oddest feeling of both loss and love. In a way, I feel bruised inside. After all the bullshit I’ve been through, I guess that shouldn’t be a surprise. I guess I was always too worried about surviving in New York to pay any attention to how I felt.

I press my face to his neck, close my eyes, and breathe him in.

“Tonight?” he says. “After this? We can talk about it?”

I exhale, drop back, and step away. “Yeah, okay.”

But I’m not looking forward to this conversation.