After I finish with Dr. Reynolds, I head out into the hallway. Logan is waiting in one of the plastic chairs. He immediately stands when he sees me, his eyes wide. He wants to know what the doctor said.
“I’m fine.” I brush him off and glance at the receptionist. “How much do I owe you?”
“It’s already taken care of,” she says, nodding toward Logan.
“It’s on the house,” Logan says, opening the door, letting me walk back as we head through the outside corridor.
I wrap my arms around myself, chilled from the news and the air temperature.
“Dinner?” he says, glancing at me, nudging me as we walk. His hand slips to my lower back, keeping me close.
I sigh, leaning into his touch. I don’t want to tell him I’m terrified. The doctor's remarks weren’t what I was expecting to hear. What made Logan insist on having me examined?
“I’m not hungry,” I say. I lost my appetite when the doctor brought up possibly having to see a neurologist.
Logan opens the heavy glass door that connects to the lodge. A warm gust of air assaults me and is a welcoming relief from the frigid chill.
“I owe you dinner, and it’s getting late,” Logan says.
“What about your daughter?”
“She’s with her friend. They won’t miss me. We can sit down in the restaurant and have a bite, or I can make something upstairs.”
“Upstairs?” I repeat. That catches my attention. “Is there another restaurant upstairs for VIP clients?” I hadn’t seen anything online or in the brochure about an upstairs restaurant.
“I meant I’d cook for you.”
“You know how to cook?” I can’t hide the smile. I’m not sure why, but I don’t imagine this man having labored in the kitchen for years. “You don’t have a chef?”
“My chef is in the kitchen downstairs, at the restaurant,” Logan says. “Just because I’m well off doesn’t mean I can’t do things for myself.”
“Sorry,” I say, quick to apologize. I didn’t mean to insult him. “Is this kitchen part of your house or a private kitchen for your most elite guests?”
“It’s in the penthouse suite.”
He’s inviting me up to his room. My feet sway slightly, and Logan’s arm wraps around my hip.
“I swear if you fall again, I’m flying you to the nearest emergency room for a second opinion.”
“Isn’t that a little much?” While I should shrug off his touch, I don’t dare admit I enjoy his arm wrapped around me.
“I’ll decide what’s necessary,” he says.
He escorts me to the elevator and groans as another gentleman steps inside with us. “Wyatt,” he mutters, apparently knowing the guy.Logan punches the button for the penthouse suite and shoves his key into the lock for access.
I offer a warm smile, and Logan wraps his arm possessively around my shoulders like he’s claiming I’m with him.
Possessive much?
“Where are you two lovebirds off to?” Wyatt quips. There’s a wry grin on his face.
I open my mouth to say that we’re not anything, but Logan answers before I can.
“Cali, this is my younger brother, Wyatt.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, and offer my hand. I recall seeing him the other day now.
“Likewise. Are you sure you want to be accompanying this guy up to his room? He’s pretty gruff. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”