Logan looked at him suspiciously, worried it couldn’t possibly be that easy.
“...yeah?”
“Yeah.” Dylan stretched out his arms with a smile. “You’re going to love Cleveland. Great scenery, right on the water. Just sleep in, get takeout, and curl up in bed with a good book—or with a not-so-ladylike lady. Trust me—you’ll never want to come back.”
Logan buried his face in his hands, as his brother called for the check.
“I must be out of my fucking mind...”
Chapter 10
Logan stared at the slip of paper in his hand. Then up at the house. Then back down at the slip of paper. This was it? This was the place where Dylan lived?
...it was perfect.
The two had stayed the night at a hotel downtown. Giving themselves a few hours to sober up and go over any other logistical details before launching into their little scheme. While Dylan had spent most of that time down at the pool, picking up women, Logan had spent it in his room, lost in thought, staring down at the brand-new house key in his hand.
Was this a terrible idea? Some sort of quarter-life crisis?
Dylan seemed to think it was all in good fun, that nothing bad could possibly happen. But despite having taken an instant liking to him, Logan had to admit that his long-lost brother couldn’t exactly be counted upon as a ‘voice of reason.’
It also didn’t help that, while Logan was balancing the weight of a small empire upon his shoulders, Dylan had nothing to lose. The man lived paycheck to paycheck, had a rotating series of houseguests, and was renting the place where he lived from a woman he admitted he had charmed into letting him sign the lease. Everything about him was up to chance. Spontaneous. Decided on a whim. Logan was...a little different than all that.
It doesn’t matter anymore. You said yes. It’s already done. The best you can do now is let go of the reins a little bit and relax. Who knows, you might actually enjoy it.
For the first time since leaving the hotel room that morning—watching Dylan pile happily into his limousine, while he waited on the curb for a cab—Logan managed a genuine smile.
The house was perfect. Small. Cozy. New enough to be comfortable, but old enough to have a few rough edges. There was a flowering garden in both the front yard and the back, and a literal white picket fence ran around the entire perimeter.
Logan stared at it in delight, before glancing up and down the street at the rest of the neighborhood. All in all, it wasn’t the kind of place he thought a guy like Dylan would want to live. It was clean. Quiet. Respectable. All things that his brother was most definitely not.
A man mowing his lawn next door lifted his hand in an automatic wave, and Logan about melted right there on the spot. (He might have been a bit over-enthusiastic waving back.)
With a spontaneous burst of excitement, he decided not to go in right away. Instead, he decided to ‘save’ the house for later, leave his things behind the swing on the porch, and set out on foot—exploring the rest of the town. A potentially hazardous thing to do, considering that for the next two weeks all his earthly possessions were currently in his suitcase, but he was feeling strangely charmed. Nothing bad could happen on the quaint residential street. This was a place of sunshine and rainbows. At any rate, he was sure his lawn-mowing friend would fight someone to the death to protect his belongings. Probably bury them beneath a bed of tulips.
And so, without any further thought as to where things were or how far they might be, Logan set out walking down the street. The wind in his hair. A smile on his face.
He had done his best to blend in, opting for nothing but jeans and a white t-shirt with simple shoes. Once he left the houses behind and got onto a main pedestrian road, he knew he’d made a wise choice. The second he slipped on his sunglasses, he was just one of the crowd. Just another anonymous, beautiful face walking down the street. No schedule. No agenda. No hordes of paparazzi trying to document his every move.
For the first time in longer than he cared to remember, he was just...Logan. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed organ donor from the state of Cleveland. Part-time pedestrian, full-time cultural enthusiast. By the time he passed his second coffee shop, he was seriously considering dropping his last name altogether.
“Dylan!”
He kept walking, smiling obliviously and tilting his head back to soak up every possible ray of sun. They had plenty of that in Florida, of course, but he hadn’t seen it. He’d been inside.
“Hey—Dylan!”
Maybe I should pick up ingredients for dinner. Make some kind of stew. The thought flitted through his head as he walked past an outdoor produce market. It was whole-heartedly embraced, until he remembered that his newfound freedom didn’t necessarily come with a newfound skillset as well. Okay new plan: maybe I should go home first and watch a video on how to cook, then I should pick up ingredients for dinner. Make some kind of stew...
“DYLAN!” A heavy hand clamped down upon his shoulder and he jumped around in surprise—staring incredulously at the giant standing before him. A giant who was staring right back down at him with a curious grin. “Dude, what’s with you? Didn’t you hear me calling?”
Logan blinked in the bright light, as his eyes adjusted slowly to the man’s face. It wasn’t often that he met someone taller than he was—when you were over six feet, you could generally count on being the tallest person in the room—but this guy won the prize. He had to be at least seven feet tall. Seven feet of pure, hard muscle. Luckily, it was paired with a smile.
“No, uh...I didn’t.” Logan took off his sunglasses, sliding them up into his hair. “Sorry.”
For a second, he was terrified that the man was going to somehow recognize him. That he and Dylan weren’t quite as identical as they thought, and their entire plan was going to go up in smoke before it even got off the ground. But all the man did was stare with that expectant grin.
“Well?”