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6
L O G A N
One minute, I had her. The next, she was rinsing mugs of mint tea in the
kitchen.
Unpredictable, that Ella.
Again, not the kind of woman I’d spend the rest of my life with, but I
saw the appeal of a partner who always surprised you. Whose heart wasn’t
easy to see and whose mind was a fascinating tangle of emotion and
motivation.
It didn’t hurt that she was lovely to look at. Even with the holes in her
face and the tattoos peeking from under her clothes.
I could find someone else, but I didn’t want to.
Bringing the teapot, I went into the kitchen. “Why?” I put the pot on the
counter. “Sell me.”
She dumped the tealeaves and rinsed the pot without looking at me. “If I
tell you why you shouldn’t marry me, what are you going to do with that
information?”
“Use it to tell you why you should.”
“Or believe me?”
I leaned on the counter, arms folded, watching her profile as she looked
into the sink. Her nose was a soft curve, and her forehead looked higher
from the side. “Tell me and I’ll decide.”
“Did you hear about the house in Westlake?” she said, running water
into the pot. “The one they demolished? On Benton?”
“No.”
“It was all over Twitter.” She swirled the water and dumped it. “The LA
Times.”