The mirror is heavier than it looks, the kind of awkward shape that makes our knuckles brush every other step. My breath hitches in a stupid and involuntary way whenever his skin touches mine, and I’m grateful he’s too focused on the task to look at my blushing face.
By the time we wrangle it into my bedroom, I’m flushed and sweaty. Logan props his end against the wall, straightening to his full, ridiculous height.
I take a step back, observing the mirror placement. “It’s crooked.”
He frowns. “It’s straight.”
“Crooked,” I insist, nudging the corner half an inch just to make a point.
Logan mutters something aboutcontrol issuesunder his breath as his gaze drifts toward the window, and he cranes his head.
“You realize this looks straight into my room.”
I glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, his window is perfectly framed across the street. I bite my lip to stop my grin. “Guess I’ll have to remember to close my curtains.”
He hums low. “You’d better.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” I tilt my head with fake innocence. “Wouldn’t wanna traumatize you,Pookie.”
The air shifts, a beat too long, too quiet. His eyes pin mine, and suddenly the mirror feels like it’s reflecting way more than furniture.
I jump when a knock rattles the front door, followed by Eli’s voice booming through the house. “Lu! You home?”
Logan exhales sharply, dragging a hand over his face, and the moment shatters.
I don’t even get the chance to shout down my response before I hear Eli barreling in like he owns the place. Which, technically, he kinda half does. Both Logan and I rush to go through my bedroom door at the same time, colliding slightly before he steps back and calmly gestures for me to go ahead of him. I don’t know why we’re both acting panicked, like we just got caught doing something we shouldn’t.
“Lu!” Eli calls again as I reach the landing. He’s standing in the entryway with a leash in hand. Behind him, Miso rockets around the house, yapping loud enough to wake the dead.
“Jesus, I’m right here,” I manage calmly enough, taking the rest of the stairs down to greet him.
Tamara appears in the doorway behind him, balancing a box of goodies from my favorite gluten-free bakery, and looking unfairly glamorous for someone who just came from picking her husband up from the rink. “Housewarming gift,” she sings, lifting the box in my direction.
My absolute favorite. Macarons, in all the pastel rainbow shades. This woman is a goddamn goddess, and I have no idea how my smelly brother scored her.
Miso spots Logan as he appears behind me and loses her tiny schnauzer mind. Hackles up, teeth bared, little growls punching the air as she bounces at his ankles.
“Fantastic,” Logan mutters, stepping back as Miso snaps at his shoelaces.
“She remembers you,” Eli says cheerfully, completely oblivious to the way Logan’s jaw flexes. “Good girl, Miso.”
“Good girl?” Logan glares down at the dog. “She’s trying to take my foot off.”
“She’s protective,” Tamara says sweetly, scratching Miso’s head before turning to me. “Wow, Lulu. This place looks amazing already.”
I try to smile, though my pulse still hasn’t caught up from that charged silence with Logan two minutes ago. “Still lots to do.”
Eli claps Logan on the shoulder with a grin.“You giving her a hand, Pooks?”
“Trying to,” Logan says dryly. “Your sister’s got opinions about furniture placement.”
Eli laughs a low, easy sound. “She’s got opinions about everything. And you get to be her neighbor now, lucky man.”
There’s history in their dynamic, the kind of shorthand that only comes from too many years in each other’s pockets.
Logan’s mouth opens, but Betty’s voice cuts through the entryway like a foghorn.
“Lucky he was here to help! Carried that mirror up the stairs like it was nothing. Thighs to crack walnuts, this one.”
