3
Tessa
“Here comes another one,” Margo whispered, smiling behind her Diet Pepsi.
I resisted the urge to turn around. How many guys were there? I could have sworn all of them had taken a turn, except for the handsome Hispanic with the dark, curly hair. He sat back and seemed so in control, smiling occasionally, but so far hadn’t made a move toward us.
“He’s really cute. He looks familiar.”
I felt his body approach our table and braced myself for a sexy accent. I took a drink of my water, trying to seem nonchalant.
“Hey, Jailbait,” a low voice breathed into my ear, immediately sending a bolt of lightning down my spine.
Water didn’t exactly spew from my mouth at his words, more like got stuck mid-swallow. Half came up and the other half squeezed painfully down my constricted throat. I began coughing, my body in full reaction mode, searching for oxygen, and it didn’t seem to care that it was ruining the whole James-Bond, smooth-talking, shoot-‘em-up vibe I had going on.
A strong hand from behind began thumping my back. Blessed air entered my lungs once again. Although, I wasn’t sure it was better to be breathing. If I was breathing, then I would have to face the man behind me.
I turned around to meet my fate. Logan Marten stood watching me with an amused expression. For a moment, I was taken aback by how handsome he looked. I had always been a fan of a man in a baseball hat, but the way it slung low across his forehead, mixed with his long lashes…it was almost criminal.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” I wheezed, definitely not James-Bond style.
He smiled and pulled out a seat, not waiting for an invitation. Glancing at Margo, he stuck out his hand. “I feel like I should know you, but it’s been too long. Logan Marten.”
She smiled widely. “I remember you now. I’m Margo Jensen. I graduated with Kelsey and Tessa.”
His eyebrows raised. “Interesting. Did you know Tessa prefers me without my shirt on?”
My eyes drifted down his chest before I caught myself and yanked them back up—but not before he caught me looking.
Dimple. Just in the right cheek. Only when he grinned. I had forgotten how that made my insides melt like butter. I had also forgotten how to speak.
“I was actually there when she told you.” Margo smiled at him.
Okay, I had to get a grip. He had been here for two seconds, and every ounce of control I had was now gone. I needed to gain back my authority in this conversation. I had been commanding the table with every guy that approached me, playing their own game, laughing and smiling. We were all onto each other, but I still had control. The final word. Strike. Strike. Strike. You’re out. I had just pitched Logan not a strike, but a ball. I only had three more pitches left.
“I thought Chase Riley was coming to build the office?”
“He got held up in Boise. He sent me and all those broken hearts behind you.”
I smiled, feeling myself flush. “I didn’t realize you worked for him.”
He leaned back in his chair and adjusted his hat. “I’m his partner now. Are you just here for the weekend?”
“I’m here to stay. I’ll be working with Nate once the office is built, but until then I’ll be running the orchard this summer.”
The conversation stilled. Not in boredom, but in anticipation. I glanced behind me. If the group of guys staring at Logan with expectant smiles on their faces meant anything, he would probably be asking me out any second. I kept a saucy look on my face to mask my inner turmoil. For the first time all night, I wasn’t sure how to handle myself. To preserve the status quo, I needed to turn him down. Ishouldturn him down. If Kelsey’s constant commentary on his flavors of the week held any truth, Ihadto turn him down. I wasn’t in the mood to be played. Been there, done that.
But he was Logan.
My Logan.
As a child, I had followed him around like a lovesick kitten. The love notes, the spying, the no-shirt comment came into my mind in full remembrance. Then, there was the secret scrapbook that I needed to find and destroy at some point this summer. Not to mention the laundry room. The fact that he was sitting at my table, smiling at me, after all of that was something of a miracle.
But he was Logan.
A womanizing, serial-dating, never-take-any-woman-seriously, attractive man. The most dangerous kind. I didn’t want him. Not really. Life had hardened me enough that he was no longer my idealized childhood crush. But he was also someone no longer too old for me. I was no longer jailbait.
Game face.
