My heart hammered in my chest as I reached the structure, running my fingers along the wood. It was even more beautiful close up. The table had been stained a perfect medium brown, the wood rustic and sturdy, about ten feet long and four feet wide.
“I thought if you had a higher table, it wouldn’t hurt your back as much. I think you can probably get everything you sell most days onto this.” He trailed off, meeting my gaze for an instant before ducking behind the table, a drill turning on as he attached the two pieces together.
I stepped back so I could read the wooden sign over my head. FRESH PRODUCE was written in a bold red with hand-painted letters. I could envision the table stacked with rows of colorful berries and fresh-picked carrots and peppers and tomatoes, the treat of the day going on the sides.
The drilling stopped, and there was movement behind me again. Logan pulled a few round apple crates out of the back of his truck and dropped them unceremoniously on the ground at my feet. He began inching backward toward his truck.
“Don’t look at me like that. My dad had some crates laying around. He wasn’t using them. They’d work good for your apples. Or you can not use them. Whatever you want.” He threw his hands up in the air again. “I know you have the apple barrel, but if you wanted some on your table, this would work. Or if you don’t even want to use the table, again, no big deal. It was just some extra wood I had laying around.”
His hand was on his truck, looking like a man who wanted to be far away, yet the handle remained latched. He watched me, waiting for my reaction with what looked like both dread and boyish apprehension.
And my heart exploded.
I concentrated on his eyes while I walked toward him slowly, like I was approaching a jumpy baby bird with a broken wing. He held his hands out, warding off my advance, but I would not be stopped. And I wasn’t buying his excuses.
“I had extra time, Jailbait. It wasn’t a big deal.”
Two more steps until I could feel the heat from his body. One more until I felt him. I nudged closer, pushing through his wall of armor and teasing to land somewhere in the gooey center. My arms found their home around his waist, and I squeezed, the smile and elation inside finally bursting free. Tears welled, but I pushed them back. If he was terrified of praise and a smile, a blubbering female would definitely send him running. After several long moments, his arms lifted and pressed me tight against his chest.
“This is why I was trying to sneak over here early. It’s really not a big deal.” The words he spoke were muffled against my hair. Soft puffs of heat landed on my scalp causing my breath to hitch.
I lifted myself against him, my lips touching his ear as I spoke. “Itisa big deal.”
“No, it’s not,” he said, even as he pulled me closer.
“It’s magnificent.”
He drew back to look at me. A smile lit his features, and it was growing wider by the second, even as he shook his head. “Pretty high praise for a little old table.”
“It’s not little or old, and I mean it. It’s the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. Thank you, Logan.”
“I’m glad you’re not reading into any of this, Tessa Robbins.” His hands trailed slowly up and down my arms, his eyes wary yet sparking fire into mine.
“I’m not,” I said, breathless. “You obviously have lots of free time.”
“Lotsof free time.”
“And tons of scraps.”
“Tons.”
“So, of course you would have to make me the most beautiful fruit stand I’ve ever seen.”
His eyes landed on my lips before he swallowed and released me, backing away completely.
“Check-in time,” he said, yanking his door open. “No more hugs.”
A smile lit my face as I watched him climb in his truck. “I object.”
He shot me an exasperated look before he bit back a grin, shook his head, and peeled out of my driveway.
He was gone as fast as he arrived, though his exit was much louder than his entrance as he raced away. When he was gone, I examined every crevice of wood he had pieced together, sanded, and stained.
For me.
24
Tessa
