Page 28 of Never Sleigh Never
“Whoa.” Logan’s hands close around my biceps. “We need to stop running into each other, literally. But… I’m glad to see you.”
This is news. My eyebrows rise. He drops his hands and takes a step back. That’s not the reaction of someone happy to see me.
“Can we talk for a minute?” he asks.
“Yeah. Sure.”
Willa reappears with my plate. “Brie, I’ve got your—oh. Hey, Logan.”
“Hi Willa.” Logan lifts his hand in a wave. “Can you give us a minute?”
“Oh yeah. Go ahead.” She sets my food on the counter and props her chin on her hands like she’s front row at the theater. Her eyes quickly shift between us. Both of us lock our gazes on hers. “Just ignore me. Carry on.” She rolls her hand in front of her.
“Maybe… somewhere private?” he murmurs to me.
“Yeah.” I head toward a small table in the corner. Logan’s large frame trails behind me. I can’t see him, but it’s hard not to feel his presence. It’s all-consuming, even when it’s unwarranted. As I take a seat, Logan sits in the chair across from me. Three tables over, the Gigis have synchronized their bifocals. Fantastic.
He rubs the back of his neck. “Um. Thanks for the ride home last night.”
“Yeah. No problem. I got a free bar tab out of it.” I shrug.
“That’s a bonus.” A tint of pink covers his cheeks. “I’m glad I could make that happen for you. I didn’t… say or do anything too embarrassing, did I?”
Do I mention the kiss? He doesn’t seem keen on bringing it up. Do I want him to bring it up? Does he want me to bring it up? It was a kiss, well an almost-kiss, but we’ve never been the almost kissing type of people. More so the if you try to kiss me, I’ll punch you in the face kind of people. But oddly, the almost-kiss felt right. And it especially shocked the hell out of me when I woke up dry-humping my pillow. That was a first.
Screw it. I’m not playing chicken with the elephant in the room. “About last night,” I lean in, keeping my voice low, “you tried to kiss me.”
His gaze ricochets off mine. Leaning away, he tugs at the collar of his charcoal-colored jacket. “Did I? Huh. Weird. I, uh… don’t know why I’d do that. Maybe I was… stretching my neck?” He lowers his shoulders and lifts his head like an ostrich.
“Yeah, maybe that was it.” I nod solemnly. Eyes closed, lips puckered. Classic neck stretch. From the corner of my eye, I sense the heavy weight of the entire diner on us as they enjoy their lunch, including a couple of the Gigis. Great. By dinner, I’ll be pregnant with Logan’s love child.
“Are you sure I tried to kiss you?” he asks.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Are you sure you want to pretend you don’t remember?”
“No!” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I just can’t imagine I’d… do that with you.”
“Because I’m unkissable?” I arch a brow. This man doesn’t need a shovel. He’s doing a pretty good job of digging his own grave.
“I mean—someone probably wants to kiss you.” His shoulders drop. “Maybe I thought you were someone else. It was dark.”
“Right.” I roll my eyes. “That must be it. I mean, I would have punched you in the face if you had done it anyway, so it’s probably better you didn’t. Otherwise, you’d be sporting a black eye today.”
He nods. “Great. We can pretend it never happened. Nothing really happened anyway.”
What an asshole. He totally remembers the almost-kiss. He wouldn’t have rambled on for so long about nothing happening. I thought maybe Logan was a different person, more grown up, but I was wrong. So fucking wrong.
Ever so conveniently, his phone rings. He glances at the screen. “Sorry, I need to take this—construction worker for the carnival. It’s almost set up.”
I purse my lips together and give him a tight nod.
“I’ll see you around.” He turns and presses his phone to his ear as he exits the diner.
“Hopefully not,” I mumble. His carnival. I lost sight of his carnival that’s trying to ruin my festival. Eye on the prize, Brie. Don’t let yourself get distracted by a guy. Especially one who’s as big of an asshole as Logan fucking Crawford.
Four hours later, I’m sitting on my floor, cross-legged with half a dozen open binders surrounding me, the whooshing sound of paper flipping fills the quiet room. A sharp knock on my door slices through the silence, startling me. Climbing to my feet, I peer out the closed curtain, and Willa’s standing on my doorstep. I twist the knob and pull the door open.
She barrels in with a hug. “Oh good, you’re not dead.”
