Page 14 of Risky Game

I could do it.

Unlike Friday, when I showed up for the interview, this time, Logan was waiting for me outside when I pulled up his long driveway that led to the four-car sideloading garage. He was sitting on the small stoop on the side door that would lead directly into his kitchen. My ten-year-old Corolla was vastly out of place in this neighborhood, which hadn’t bothered me before, but the way Logan’s brows arched as I put the car in park and turned off the engine made me grip my steering wheel tighter. He was still staring at the car like it was a deathtrap as I popped open my trunk and gathered my suitcase and large duffel bag out of it.

I’d been a college student with six-figure student loans. We couldn’t all drive Bugattis. Not that I knew what he drove.

I might have slammed the trunk closed harder than necessary and he jumped.

“Need any help?”

“This is it.”

“I’ll get them.”

He hurried down the cement steps, and once again, he was casual. Athletic shorts, well-fitted T-shirt. I gripped my things tighter. To keep my balance, not because I didn’t mind help.

Okay, so I hated help. Accepting it didn’t come naturally to me, which was why I’d asked for less money.

What fool did that?

Me. I was the fool.

I was definitely looking like a fool when Logan reached me, arm outstretched to slide the duffel bag off my shoulder, and I was staring at him, not moving.

“I can take them.”

“I know.” He grinned and damn him for doing it. “Let me help anyway.”

Refusal burned my tongue, but I was being ridiculous. There was no reason to fight with my boss over helping me with luggage.

“Fine.” I sighed and slipped off the straps of my bag. He took it from my arm, and his knuckles brushed down my forearms as he did.

I tensed. Heat singed my flesh and goose bumps pebbled where his hand brushed against mine. And oh shit… there was no way he noticed. Please tell me he didn’t notice.

He glanced up at me. Those eyes like iron landed on mine, but they weren’t cold this time. No way.

I stepped back and left him to grab the handle of the suitcase. Rubbing my arm to wash away the sensation was pointless. It remained long after I turned to avoid looking at him.

One stupid touch.

One stupid touch and it had to be obvious how that affected me.

But… what had it done to him?

I shook my head and rolled my shoulders. “Okay. So, if you can take those to my room, I’ll just… spend some time unpacking?”

He was still watching me. The heat in those eyes was a smolder instead of that flare of inferno I first saw. Or maybe it was me. Maybe I was the problem and seeing things that weren’t there.

Logan cleared his throat and wrapped his other hand around the handle of the suitcase.

“I’ll follow you to the room we agreed on for you.”

I’d be upstairs, two doors down from Amelia. The one next door might have been preferable, given my job, but she was four, not an infant, and the room I chose overlooked the backyard oasis and not the driveway.

I was still at the top of the stairs, close enough I’d hear if she needed me.

The bonus was Logan’s bedroom was on the main floor, on the opposite side of the house. Once Amelia went to bed at night, I planned on reading in my room.

I could read every night for hours. We’d hardly ever see each other.

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