I need a real Mulligan.
“Almost there.” Logan glanced over his shoulder and grabbed my hand as we continued up the stairs. “You better not read ahead and spoil this book.”
“I promise. I won’t this time. It’s Kingmaker. I wouldn’t ruin this series.”
“You would.” He pointed at me. “If you spoil this book, you owe me.”
“Owe you what?”
“Everything.”
“Oh my God. Whatever.”
We hit our favorite level. A punk rock band rocked on the stage, playing their unique rendition of The Kingmaker TV theme song. The drums collided with the guitar’s rugged melody. I bobbed my head, unable to help myself.
Logan laughed and pumped those big shoulders.
It was a sad fact among us that no matter how hot Logan was, his dancing could have anyone laughing on the floor. The best part was that he didn’t give a damn if he looked bad or not. He loved music and moving with the rhythm.
He bumped my hip with his. It would have been cute, if not for my inability to take in that muscled ass in his jeans and that nice hump in the front. He may have used socks to give his crotch definition as a kid. Now, he no longer needed it.
In horrible rhythm, he clapped and pumped his fists some more.
“Oh God.” I laughed.
“We’re going on the dance floor after we grab our books.”
“It’s not a dance floor.”
“It is today.” He gestured to the area in front of the stage where tons of cosplayers held their bags of new Kingmaker novels and jammed.
The series fanbase had thrown publishers and America for a loop. The group of dancers were a great representation of that fact. In front of the stage, adult geeks high-fived little kids with crowns. There was every ethnicity one could think of and probably every religion. An old graying couple swayed and laughed with two tattooed faced guys dressed in tight leather. On the side, a mom had sat next to her sleeping baby in a stroller and started reading the new novel.
Waiting in another long line, it took us about twenty minutes before we could get the books. Logan paid for both of them no matter how much I tried to give him my money. Once we had the books in our bags, Logan held them like they were the most expensive items on earth.
Logan grinned at the pop-up bar over by the fantasy book section. Like in the Kingmaker series, wizards donned midnight blue velvet robes. Long gray beards hung from their faces down to their knees. White smoke rose from the pots in front of them as they poured violet and green liquid into vials.
Holding our books, Logan gestured at the bar. “Do you want to get an Oxi Potion?”
“Do you really have to ask?” I rushed before him and went into my pocket. “This round is on me.”
“No, it isn’t!” he called after me.
This was a small competition we’d started. Logan was old-fashioned about some things. Even though we were friends, he was adamant about paying for everything. It got to the point where I had to race ahead and order before him. Sometimes I had to rush my credit card out, quickly hand it to waitress, and tell her to run off with it.
I reached the bar before him. “Two Oxis please.”
The bartender nodded.
Logan reached my side. “Really?”
“You bought the books.”
“I owe you.”
“For what?” I smirked at him.
“I always tell my sisters that men always pay.”
“We’re not on a date, Logan.”
“Not the point.”
“It totally is.” I ignored his frown, turned around, and clapped with the music.
The band had shifted into one of their songs. Some of the crowd continued to dance in front of the stage. Others rushed off with their books as more people stumbled in.
I checked my watch.
8:00am and this place is packed through the roof.
The bartender returned.
Logan handed her a twenty and grabbed the vials.
I shook my head at him. “Really? I was paying.”
“What?”
“You’re such a gentleman.”
“This is the bare minimum of what you should expect from a man.”
I widened my eyes.
He continued, “It’s not about the amount of money or what he’s buying, it’s about the willingness to take care of you, whenever he can. The dedication.”
I tried not to blush again. Instead, I took the vial and cheered, “To Beautiful Gentlemen that take care of their women.”
He tapped his vial against mine. “And to the wonderful women who deserve it.”
There was something about the way he gazed at me that made me want to dance in his eyes for eternity.
Why couldn’t I have talked to Logan first? It should’ve been Logan, not Tyson.
Logan gestured around The Yellow Brick Road. “This is what I want to do with my bookstore. This is what bookstores are about. Exciting places where you can commune with others who love books and reading.”
“I can’t wait for Patricia and you to open yours. I’ll be there every day.”