Page 58 of Never Sleigh Never
Perfect. Because what I really needed tonight was to save a diner full of food while standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the man I’m supposed to hate but can’t stop noticing smells way too good.
I shoot him a tight smile, determined not to stare. Logan inches closer to me as more people shuffle into the line. His shoulder brushes against mine. The touch is nothing—barely there—but my body reacts like he just plugged me into a socket. Exciting. Unwelcome. Totally traitorous. I am supposed to hate him. Not imagine pushing him against the walk-in freezer, climbing him like a tree, and dry-humping his stupidly muscular thighs.
“Brie? Brie?”
I jerk my gaze up. Cara’s holding a frozen ham, brows raised.
“Right, sorry.” My voice comes out squeaky. I grab the ham and pass it down the line to Logan, whose fingertips graze mine deliberately—or maybe that’s just my overactive imagination. Either way, every accidental brush is a chemical explosion, and by the fifteenth exchange, I’m buzzing on some cocktail of dopamine and lust. And of course, he knows it. Each time, he sneaks me a sidelong glance, dimple flashing like he’s cashing in on my weakness. By the time we slam the last cooler shut, I’m practically floating.
“Thank you, everyone,” Willa breathes, sagging against the empty freezer.
“Of course,” I say, swiping sweat from my forehead. “Fingers crossed it all stays good.”
“Me too. It should be good.” When everyone else scatters, Willa steps up next to me. “I was a little nervous about you and Logan working next to each other, but not a single insult was hurled in either direction.”
“We can be around each other without bickering.”
“Have you not seen you two? Especially in the past three weeks?”
“Tonight, we came together for a common cause.”
“Well, glad I could bring you two together. But there’s no other reason there were no expletives thrown at each other?”
“Nope. Nothing that I can think of,” I spit out entirely too fast to be casual. I can’t tell her I want to drag him outside and kiss him in the snowbank like it almost happened before.
“Uh-huh.” She smirks knowingly.
Before I can dig myself deeper, Mason calls for Willa. “I got my truck loaded up to head over to Sip and Sleigh. Sloane’s going to meet us there.”
“Thank you again.” She wraps her arms around me, and I hug her back.
“Of course.” When I turn around, Logan’s gone. Just… gone. My heart dips. I don’t know why. Was I actually going to say anything to him, anyway? What would I even say? Every time you touched me tonight, you lit my body on fire. I can’t stop thinking about you, even though I want to strangle you. I had a sex dream about you, but now I want the real thing. Yup. I’m sure that would go over well.
On the drive home, my phone chimes with a message. Glancing at the screen, it’s from Scott, Santa number eight from my list. He tells me he’s available for this year’s festival. I guess it’s better than nothing. As I pass the festival grounds headlights catch my attention. I ease off the gas pedal, keeping my eyes focused on the other vehicle. What are they doing? The vehicle crawls to a stop, and I continue to move toward them. As I get closer, I squint my eyes, trying to focus. My shoulders sag once recognition hits.
I park my SUV behind the white truck and jump out, leaving the vehicle running. “What are you doing here? Looking for something else to steal?” I cross my arms over my chest.
Logan spins around. “No. I was checking to make sure the power surge didn’t spark any fires.”
“Oh.” I blink. That’s unexpectedly thoughtful. “Thanks.”
“No problem. I better check on the carnival. I don’t want it to burn to the ground if there’s a fire. But I’m sure you’d be excited about that,” he teases.
“I may have thought about it a time or two, but I’d never want it to actually happen. You’ve worked hard, and I’d really hate for that to be destroyed.”
Something soft flickers across his face before he masks it. “Thanks. I’ll see you around, Brie.”
And damn it, the way he says my name—low, deliberate—sends butterflies crashing into each other in my stomach like bumper cars. I don’t like it. Except… I absolutely do.
“Bye, Logan,” I murmur, softer than I mean to.
I stand there, watching his taillights disappear into the night, until the dark swallows him whole. Hating him is supposed to be easy. But it’s getting harder and harder when he does things like this.
Twenty-One
Logan Crawford Hate Club
Brie
