Free Logan by Melissa Schroeder Page A

order her to do other things.  
    “I can hear you,” Maggie said from her doorway. Meg opened her eyes and looked at her friend.  
    “I was trying to meditate.”  
    “You were thinking it sucks we are stuck in the apartment tonight.”  
    She smiled. “I don’t believe I actually thought the word sucks.”  
    Maggie sat next to her on the bed and grinned. “I can’t believe we’re in Paris.”  
    “Is this your first time?”  
    She nodded. “We thought about it for our honeymoon, but we didn’t want to go that far away. It was my first time away from Jack like that.”  
    Meg grinned, thinking about how crazy Maggie had been before she left.  
    “So, I’m a little hungry. Want to see what my wonderful husband left for us?” Maggie asked.  
    No. She wanted to sit on her bed and pout more, but she knew it would sound stupid if she said that out loud. Instead, she nodded. “Let’s go find out.”  
    Meg led the way, as Maggie followed behind her.  
    “This place is amazing. It must be hard to stay away.”  
    “Now, it is. I miss this city so much. But at first, it wasn’t that hard. Paris has some horrible memories for me.”  
    Being arrested, having her lover, the one man she had ever really trusted, turn on her…it had been horrendous. But, it had taught her never to trust again. Especially men.  
    They reached the kitchen and she sighed. All was right with the world if there was a well-equipped kitchen.  
    “Now, if I know my husband, he made sure there is some good wine for me, and cheese,” Maggie said, elbowing her way around Meg. “And bread and chocolate.”  
    Meg sighed. “I could never get you to enjoy a good kitchen.”  
    Maggie opened the fridge and giggled. “Smashing.” She pulled out a bottle of very expensive champagne. “My man knows me.”  
    She started rummaging through drawers, and Meg shook her head knowing she wouldn’t get to play in her kitchen. Not at the moment at least.  
    “Over there,” she said, pointing to the drawer where she kept the wine bottle opener, as she walked to the cupboard where she kept the champagne flutes.  
    Maggie found it easily.  
    “With your background, I do understand why you don’t like to cook.”  
    “What’s that mean?” Maggie asked, as she turned the handle on the opener.  
    “You’re Irish. It’s not like you have a lot of things from your homeland’s cuisine.”  
    The cork popped out and Meg raced over so Maggie could pour the frothy liquid in.  
    “That’s rude.”  
    “No one ever said the truth was nice,” she said with a smile. “I will take New England Clam Chowder, fajitas, or peach cobbler over some of the things you have in Ireland any day of the week.”  
    Maggie clinked her glass against Meg’s. “We will agree to disagree.”  
    She took a sip and sighed. Angus had bought the best, of course.  
    “So, what about you and Logan,” Maggie asked.  
    “What do you mean?”  
    “I mean, what’s going on with the two of you?”  
    “Nothing.”  
    “Oh, no, don’t give me that. I know better than anyone—well, except for Rena—how you act around men. The fact that you don’t really flirt with Logan is a tell, love.”  
    She made a face. “How would I get him into my bed anyway? He has no reaction to the voice.”  
    Maggie was about to take a drink, but she lowered her glass slowly. She studied Meg for a moment or two. “You don’t think all you have is that voice, do you?”  
    Meg shrugged, trying to push away the insecurity that weighed heavy on her soul. “I will admit, I’ve used it a lot over the last few years. It’s kind of difficult to think a man is immune to it.”  
    “Don’t ever think that’s all you are. We are more than just our abilities, Meg. So much more.”  
    She wished she could believe, but she didn’t have it in her. “I guess you could be right.”  
    “And something happened.”  
    She glanced up at Maggie.  
    “I knew