Page 23 of The Rookie
A frustrated sigh pushes past my lips. “First, I can’t light my own fire. Then I can’t drive the truck. Then Graham uses me as a talking point in your argument last night ...”
“That argument had nothing to do with you,” Logan says quickly, his voice stern and steady. “Graham was just trying to get under my skin.”
“The point is, all I’m doing is causing you one headache after another. I’m supposed to be the one helping you, but you’ve just had to rescue me again and again. What’s the point in even staying?”
Not a moment later, the slightest bit of pressure brings my chin upward. Here, in the middle of this general store, Logan is cupping my chin in his palm, tracing my cheek with his calloused thumb.
And there it is again. That spark. The same one that leaped between us last night. But this time, it’s a little stronger, and not so quick to fade away. It lights a tiny fire in the center of my belly.
“You are helping me, okay?” His tone is softer and sweeter than I’ve ever heard before, so much so that I might actually believe him. “In more ways than you know. Stay a few more days. Please.”
I swallow the emotion building in my throat. “Are we going to talk?”
He nods. “Tonight.”
“Promise?”
“On one condition.”
My lips purse as I hold back a breath. “That is?”
“You let me buy you these boots.”
Done and done.
I knew when I was in over my head.
11
LOGAN
After dinner, Summer and I sit outside on the porch swing. She’s all bundled up beside me, looking cute as hell in the new boots I bought her today, swinging her feet as we rock back and forth.
I’m not quite sure what I was thinking when I suggested she stay. Summer’s presence here seems to trigger some overprotective part of me, something that makes me want to keep her close and make sure she’s safe. If I send her back to the city, I can’t effectively do that.
Maybe that’s all it is. Just a friend looking out for a friend. No reason to read more into it.
Night has fallen, turning the sky a deep grayish blue. As it darkens, about a million little stars become visible. Glancing at Summer, I ask, “Are you warm enough?”
She nods beside me. “Thanks to you.”
“It was nothing. I was happy to make sure you had what you needed from town.”
I want to ask her if this means she’s staying a little longer, but, well, basically I’m chickenshit.
We had something of a counseling session on the way back from town. At least, I’m guessing that’s what it was. Summer asked me a bunch of questions about hockey and my life in Boston, and I answered them the best I could. It was surprisingly more comfortable than I imagined it would be, opening up to her like that. The whole honesty thing seems to be working. Plus she admitted to me that she’s afraid of clowns and Mexican food is her favorite.
“... and the town was adorable. That little house converted to a library ...”
Startled, I realize she’s still talking. “Uh, yeah.”
Summer bumps her knee into mine. “And I appreciated our chat on the ride back too.”
“For sure. I asked you to stay, right? I figure friendly chats are part of the gig.”
At this, she gives me an uncertain look. “Logan, as much as Idowant to be your friend, you know I also have a responsibility to the team, right?”
“Um, yes?”
