99 Houses for His Love One for My Freedom novel Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The next morning, the bartender pulled up in front of the guesthouse–right on time.

I leaned into the open window and gave him a look. “How’d you know which one I was staying at?”

He gave a casual shrug. “Only one place in town worth booking. You’ve got taste.”

The car didn’t look rented. Too worn in. Too personal. It was his.

I offered him a generous tip up front–tour guide fees, just to make things official.

He winced like I’d hurt his pride. “Okay, first of all, can we not keep calling me ‘bartender guy‘? I do have a

name. Logan. Logan Blake.”

“Logan Blake?” I raised a brow. “That sounds like a character off a daytime soap.

He just laughed. “You’re not the first to say that. I’ve got the tragic backstory to match, too. Wore dresses till I was six. Prettiest ‘daughter‘ on the block.”

That earned a genuine laugh from me. “How much for photos?”

He grinned. “You’re the rich lady, I’m your broke sugar baby. Everything’s negotiable.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help smiling. His easy jokes disarmed me. I hadn’t felt this light in…

The drive was smooth, the day open with possibility.

Logan knew Silverpine like the back of his hand.

years.

He took me to food trucks that didn’t show up on Yelp, street fairs only locals knew about, and even a little

county festival outside town where we tried our luck at cheesy carnival games.

He made sure to ask vendors to skip the scallions in my food–something only someone who knew me well

would do.

At the fair’s prize wheel, I won the one thing I’d always wanted as a kid.

At a quaint little “love booth,” I drew a fortune: a peaceful, fulfilling future.

It was the first day in forever I’d felt… happy.

The next morning, we went to the tech museum. The main exhibit was full, but Logan showed me to a second–floor alcove where the acoustics were still good.

“Frequent flyer access,” he said with a smirk.

Day three, we hiked the Blueridge Trail.

Chapter 9

Halfway up, my shoe gave out. Without a word, he pulled out a new pair–my size, my style–already in the

trunk.

Day four, we caught a beachside performance.

The fireworks at the end rivaled any I’d seen in Westbridge.

We were standing near a footbridge overlooking the ocean when a person in a full bunny costume approached and silently handed me a single lisianthus.

My favorite flower.

I turned to Logan. “Let me guess. You?”

But he just smiled and shook his head. “Not this time.”

I froze.

Then he lowered his eyes, voice suddenly shy.

“To be honest… none of that was me. At least not at first.”

He looked almost embarrassed.

“I mean–how could I have known you hate scallions? I didn’t even know your name until that first night.”

He gave a a small, self–deprecating laugh, but

The truth was–I’d always had terrible luck.

my thoughts were already spiraling elsewhere.

And for the longest time, I told myself it was because I used it all

Every shred of good fortune, gone in a single, glittering moment.

P meeting Ethan.

What followed–all the heartache, all the disappointment–felt like the universe evening the score.

Love, for me, had never been gentle. Or lucky. Not even close.

I swallowed, blinked once, and came back to the present.

Logan was still talking. His voice soft but steady now.

“So on day two, I decided to start trying. Really trying.”

“You know those VIP tickets at the museum? You actually won them. I just… tossed them. He bought them for you.”

“The shoes? I asked someone who knows him for your size. Bought them myself.”

Chapter 9

“And tonight? I didn’t even want to bring you here.”

He hesitated, then added, “A friend told me there’d be a fireworks show here tonight. Didn’t say who

planned it but come on, who else could it be?”

“It was for you.” He looked me in the eye.

“And I figured… if he did all that, it’s probably because it’s something you love. So I brought you anyway.”

His words came out in a rush. Like if he paused, he wouldn’t get through them.

I listened quietly. And then I understood.

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