Logan

171. He Makes Me Feel Safe

Thankfully it was up to 20 degrees tonight, the air felt cool still, but it didn't take as long for the truck to heat up.

The interview with Mr. Bradley went well, he had offered me more for a few songs than I'd ever been offered. I think part of it was the guilt, he looked at me as if I was some widowed housewife, when he brought up Logan I was quiet.

I thought I'd be okay with other people talking about him.

After I put myself back together I ordered some fries, and a coke. It wasn't worth it to drink here, I was going to be driving and I was not that kind of person. I even brought extra cash and some clothes with me just in case I had to get a hotel tonight.

I sat, watching the tv above the bar and ate my fries. A gust of cold air came in through the door and then I saw him.

Total city slicker, fancy shoes and the attitude to match. His skin was a dusky tan, as if kissed by the sunset. His eyes were a dark brown, only a few wrinkle lines on his forehead, and his eyes. He squinted and looked like he concentrated a lot. Accountant? Engineer? Writer, maybe l, but I couldn't see a glasses tan line.

I saw a flash of chest hair and a gold necklace underneath his black shirt. The gold chain told me he was a confident man, god and that hair. A curly mess of brown and a bit of salt and pepper peaking through, and the chin. Sculpted and chiseled, he for sure was some kind of inquisitive person.

He certainly looked classy, his nose was distinctive and strong. Oh shit, he saw me.

"Hello to you too," he says, sitting a seat away from me.

I smirk, "Please, you can sit beside me, I don't bite."

"No?" He smiles, getting up and placing his coat carefully on the back of the seat.

"Only if you ask," I blurt, and before I can recover myself he laughs, and I can see the way his eyes linger on my knee. The lace of my garter is visible.

I can't fucking control myself, my fingers reach out and I tilt his chin up to me, and our eyes meld in a gaze.

"Eyes up here, City."

"City? Like City boy?"

"City Slicker," I say.

"What makes you think that?" he laughs, fuck I love his laugh. He laughs with his whole chest, and he has dimples, goddamnit.

I slide the fries between us, "Here, have a bite." He takes one and I give him another look.

"You strike me as a city slicker, you look like you flew in from somewhere. I'm guessing warm climate considering your jacket doesn't have an inseam built for the cold, it's not mesh, it's like a windbreaker. Which means you're probably cold as hell right now. You're wearing loafers with fancy tassels, no doubt some kind of designer. I'm surprised you didn't slip and fall out there. You're not wearing any kind of hat, so you either think you're a cool guy who doesn't need a stocking cap, or you didn't expect it to be this cold."

"Wow," he nods, taking another fry, "Good catch." I'm hearing an accent, but I can't quite place it.

"How about me?" I ask. He looks at me and then his fingers ever so gently tap my knee.

"May I?" he asks and I nod. He only slightly lifts my knee and looks at my shoes, then I can smell his sweet but woodsy cologne as he tucks some hair behind my ear.

"You are a beautiful woman either coming from a date, or you're on one right now."

I shake my head, "An interview for a gig, hence the fries and free drinks."