“He actually messed with Ashley.” I tried to grab the notebook again.
He raised it in the air and kept it from me. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I need to know everything.”
“You already know you’re ending it with him...and the truth regarding Ashley—”
“I want to know. What other bullshit has he done?” My stomach twisted. “And he’s just so proud of himself, writing it all down. What’s wrong with him?”
“The disrespect.” Logan’s face held no humor. “I’m going to break his nose and probably other things.”
A woman tapped my back. “Excuse me. Could you two move up?”
Logan and I looked forward.
The people ahead of us were several feet away.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
We hurried to our new spot in line.
Logan rolled the notebook in his huge hand like he was about to swat someone. “I’m going to beat his ass.”
“If I don’t get to him first. He might not be alive by the time I’m done with him.” I reached my hand out to his. “Give me the notebook back.”
“Not happening.”
“Excuse me?” I frowned.
“I’ll give it back to you, after we enjoy our day.”
“What?”
“We’re getting the Kingmaker, then we’re going to our spot and eating. Tyson’s bullshit is ruining the morning.”
“It isn’t.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m having a fabulous day.”
“You’re not. Let’s get the books, go to our eating spot, and then we can read more.”
“You’re so bossy.”
“I’m not.”
“The twins tell me all the time, but I’d never experienced it firsthand.”
He smirked. “The twins would never say that about me. I’m their favorite person in the world.”
I snorted.
The bookstore opened.
I pushed the disgustingness of Tyson out of my mind and moved forward.
The Yellow Brick Road bookstore was the perfect place to get lost in. It wasn’t just a store, it was more a book castle or palace. It had been a church fifty years ago. I could still see the property’s history in the neo-Gothic architecture—opulent carved wood, gilded pillars, ornamented ceilings, and a gorgeous red staircase lit by a stained-glass atrium.
There must’ve been over 100,000 titles. There were four levels to the book palace, offering different literary related items on each level—magazines, CDs, and antique books.
It was even so grand, the first floor had a cozy living room vibe—rugs, crackling fireplaces in the winter, and a massive model railway connected between the book columns, the walls, and comfy seats.
In the attic, there were expensive secondhand books on a variety of subjects, leather-bound and reeking of history and money. Sometimes I went upstairs just to touch them.
Usually, when Logan and I came, we hung out on the third level. With amphitheater-style seating in the center and sleek designing, it was the most modern space on the whole property. This was where the bookstore hosted their events—readings, signings, book launch parties, and pop-up art exhibits.
The best part was that they always had live music on that level, no matter what time of day. And today was no exception. They were holding the Kingmaker release up there, probably so the first floor wouldn’t be packed with crazy fans.
“No more Tyson for now.” Logan put his big pinky in front of me. “Promise.”
I rolled my eyes. “Promise.”
“If our pinkies don’t touch, then it doesn’t count.”
I quirked my brows. “Is that how this works?”
“Exactly.”
I slipped my pinky along his big one. We held our fingers there. Our gazes met. An intensity spread between us. At least, I felt the warmth of it for sure, the comfort and sensation of being next to someone who really cared about me. Or maybe it was how low I was feeling, after hearing Tyson’s words from his notebook. Perhaps the shock of the news made me vulnerable. But in that moment, touching Logan’s finger, brough some peace to me.
“No more Tyson, until after the books,” I whispered to him.
He curved those sexy lips into a delicious smile. “Only Logan and Mia.”
He triggered another damn blush. Whenever I was around him, I became a nervously giggling school girl.
A few people hurried by us, heading towards the third level.
“Oh shit.” I pointed to them. “We need to focus.”
“Yes.”
We let go. Shot with excitement, Logan and I rushed up the stairs along with everyone else.
Someone screamed out Mulligan’s favorite chant before going into war, “Onward and sun-bound!”
Logan and I yelled back like obsessive nerds, “Not even the moon will block my star-destinies!”
A few kids chuckled behind us.
The best thing about Logan was that he understood my Kingmaker mania and had been infected with it all on his own. We could stay up all night, yapping about it for days.
He loved Kingmaker for the fantasy warfare and political intrigue. Those things were great, but I turned the pages for the sex and romance. The hero, Mulligan ranked as number one on my book boyfriend list. He seduced his women, captivating them with words and heroic actions. And the man had a nice body too—one similar to Logan—cut muscle and satin skin, massive arms that could carry the weight of this world and a heart as big as his cock.