Page 78 of Riding the Sugar High

“Lucy.” Her chin lowers, a complicit look in her eyes. “Mom, if you’re lucky enough.”

Oh, boy. Here we go.

“Uh, um...Logan and I, we...”

“Are you in love with my son?”

I suck in a breath, internally cringing at her friendly tone. I can tell she’s asking in the hopes I’ll say yes, not to warn me or scare me off. But I can’t lie to this sweet old lady. I can’t, in good conscience, tell her I’m her future daughter-in-law. It’ll break her heart when I leave next week. “Well, we’re, uh...”

I also can’t tell her the truth, though. Can I?

Where’s Logan?

When I look around in a panic, Lucy cups my knee. “Dear, I know my son, and he doesn’t look at a lot of people the way he looks at you.” She peers at me, holding strong eye contact. “Like he’ll drop dead if he stops.”

He doesnot. Does he? Last night, he looked at me like he wishedIwould drop dead. But the rest of the time? Just now, when he was making fun of my scene last night? Therewasa fond smile on his face. A sparkle in his eyes.

“You know he’s been through a lot with...” She vaguely gestures behind her, and my eyes settle on Aaron, talking to Josie and an older man whose name I forgot.

“Yeah, I know.”

“And she?—”

“Thecarbonatoris fixed,” Logan says as he walks up to us, and his mom releases an annoyed sigh. “Did you get your intel?”

“Just eat your lunch,” she says as she gently slaps the back of his neck. Once she turns her focus to the party, she gasps. “Oh, look, Theresa is taking pictures!” She frantically gestures at us to follow her. “Come on, I want one of the two of you.”

“Mooom,” he bellows.

Lucy’s arm locks with mine, and when I flash a wide-eyed look at Logan, he follows, his back hunched as if he’s been sentenced to death. Now that I think about it, there are no pictures in his home.

“I never want to forget the day I met you,” she says as she props me in front of the camera, then tucks my hair behind my ear with the warmth reserved for a mother. It makes my heart ache, and if it’s the last thing I do in this life, I’ll take this picture for her.Wewill.

“Logan?” I call as he lazily walks toward me, making his disdain about the whole ordeal obvious to everyone, then pouting when his mom slicks his hair back.

“Let’s just do this,” he barks as he wraps an arm around my shoulders and unceremoniously pulls me closer until I bump into his side.

“Jesus. Manners,” I mumble as I pinch his hip. “I’m not a rag doll.”

He flinches away, then turns to me with a murderous look. His hand darts out, but I entangle my fingers with his, stopping him from pinching me.

“Logan, don’t?—”

His other hand approaches, but I hold that too, squeezing his fingers when he tries to free himself of my hold. “Youstarted it.”

“No, you did!” I squeal when his hand escapes and he tickles my side. “Logan—stop—no!”

I erupt into laughter as his other hand tickles my left hip. “You start wars you can’t win, Barbie.”

“I’m sorry!” I shout as I bend forward, his hands still mercilessly attacking my sides. “Please, I’m so—sorry,” I manage in between waves of laughter as I slide onto the dewy grass.

The heat of his dark chuckle hits my ear, his hands still on my hips though he stopped torturing me.

I throw a look at his family, expecting to find them watching us with some degree of judgment—I know I would—but his cousin is taking pictures of us, and his mom’s expression is that of someone witnessing a miracle.

We’ve attracted the attention of a few more people, Aaron and Josie included. Though Aaron isn’t smiling, it’s Josie’s expression that catches my attention. Her lips are bent up, but her eyes aren’t in it. Almost as if she were wishing this type of idiotic interaction for herself. I can’t imagine Aaron is a “tickle you to the ground” kind of guy. It makes my chest squeeze for her.

“Ready for your picture?” Logan asks, and when I look over, I find him staring at me with something resembling a smile. His eyes are soft and curious, and for a moment, I wonder if that’s the look his mom was talking about. Like there’s something mesmerizing about me, though he can’t wrap his head around what, and it’s driving him mad. Since we’ve been crouched on the grass, has he taken his eyes off me at all?

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