Page 4 of Bittersweet

Now, more than anything, he wanted her to like it. But he knew as soon as she stepped inside, she would see right through him. She would know he based the entire layout on her ideas.

“Just for a minute … for the ice.”

He was delighted that she’d caved and couldn’t hide his smile if he wanted to.

Harper walked slowly back to him. “I, uh …” She pointed at the side of the truck. “I like your logo.”

“Bold and graphic and simple. Your words, if I remember correctly.”

Her cheeks flushed, and he wanted to press his lips there. One cheek at a time. To feel the warmth he knew he’d caused.

“It’s definitely all of those things,” she replied.

He moved aside and motioned for her to step up into the truck ahead of him, offering her his hand. She ignored the offer and took the steps without assistance.

It was such a rush having Harper in his space. Her eyes traveled over everything, and he watched her take it all in, still as enamored by her as ever. Having her this close and not being able to hold her or kiss her after all this time was getting to him already. He wanted to get closer, step into her space, wrap his arms around her, inhale the sweet scent of her.

She glanced over at him and held up her hand. The knuckles were bright red and swollen at the point of impact. “Ice.”

He shook off the thoughts he knew he shouldn’t be entertaining and retrieved some ice from the freezer, wrapping it in a dishcloth. He wondered what she was thinking. Did she recognize the layout? Maybe she didn’t remember. Maybe it hadn’t meant as much to her as it had to him.

“What’s your favorite?” Harper suddenly asked as she perused the shelves of coffee beans.

Logan walked up beside her and pointed to his favorite Guatemalan dark roast. “This one.” His elbow brushed against her arm as he lowered his, and electricity sped across the surface of his skin, every hair standing at attention. He glanced down and noticed goosebumps on her arm. So it’s not just me. Those little bumps of raised flesh gave him hope that the connection they’d always had was still alive and well.

He turned into her a little. “Want me to brew you a cup?”

Harper stepped to the side, creating space between them, which he hated instantly.

“I don’t drink coffee,” she declared.

His eyebrows raised. “Since when?”

She looked straight into his eyes. “My appetite for coffee disappeared when you did.”

His mouth dropped open. But before he could assemble a response, she grabbed the dishcloth from his hand.

“Thanks for the ice.” Her comment was terse as she bolted for the exit and fled.

Logan stared dumbfounded at the open door.

Served him right, really. He couldn’t blame her for that reaction after not showing his face for four years. He knew he’d hurt her, and it had killed him to leave her back then without any explanation. Causing her pain was the last thing he’d ever wanted, and he would’ve given anything in the world to have found another way. But under the circumstances, it had felt like the right thing to do, like there was no other choice.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

If he’d been honest with her from the start, maybe things would be different, but there was no changing the past. All he could do now was find an opportunity to apologize, explain what happened, and ask for her forgiveness. Worst case scenario, she’d throw a cup of coffee in his face—preferably iced. Best case, he’d get to be part of Harper’s life again.

3

The bells hanging on the door rang louder than they ever had as Harper shoved the door closed with a bang. Hearing Logan call her Cupcake again had infuriated her. He’d started calling her that the day they met, when she brought a cupcake to Julie, a friend in their economics class, and it had stuck. She hadn’t minded back then, but now, the sound of it made her cringe.

“How’d it go?” Savannah was weaving dough in a criss-cross pattern across the top of a pie made with tart Montmorency cherries she had purchased during a trip up north to her hometown of Traverse City. She glanced up and froze with a strip of dough in her hand at Harper’s exasperated expression. “What? Not good? Really?”

“Did you know it was Logan?” Harper was practically fuming.

“What was Logan?”

“It was so humiliating. The door hit my hand, and I dropped all the food onto the ground, so he didn’t even get to taste anything. Not that I’d want him to anyway, but it was a mess from the start, and then I saw the kitchen … my kitchen. Like, the one I designed for our truck and—”

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