“That’s right, that’s what the private—”
“Well, we’re just going to order pizza and hang out,” I interrupt. Leave it to Seth to barrel into sensitive subjects like a bull in a china shop. “You’re welcome to join us,” I say, while my expression says,Please beat it.
Seth snorts and gives me a look that says,No way am I leaving you alone in the house withthisgirl.“Let’s go out for dinner.”
Sierra’s eyes widen. “Oh, I’m a mess—”
“Our bathroom’s right there. Take a shower, we’re not in a hurry.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“Come on, Sierra. My treat.”
I have a feeling I understand her reluctance. Judging by her actions before we went to the mechanic, it’s clear she doesn’t want to see anyone she knows.
“We’ll go to Chaos Burger,” I say.
“Yes! Chaos Burger, here we come!” Seth pumps his fist, excited despite himself. “Oh man, they have this awesome peanut butter and jalapeño jelly burger that’s going to blow your mind.”
Sierra still looks hesitant.
“It’s a good choice, one of the touristy places locals avoid,” I explain. “All the servers are transplants too.”
She frowns, rearing back as if I’ve slapped her. “You can stay here. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
I’m struck speechless. Why wouldIbe worried about that? “What? No, I meant—”
“It’s cool, I get it. Seth—”
“Yeah, we can leave Logan here,” Sethsays with a smirk.
I scowl at him. Yeah, that isn’t going to happen.
“Great. Give me a few minutes.” She marches past us into the bathroom.
Seth turns to me, his face serious. “Are you okay? What is she doing here?”
“I told you—car trouble,” I say, which I know doesn’t answer his real question at all.
I glance down at my dusty, sweaty self, still in the dumb cowboy shirt Seth picked out for our visitor center uniforms. Of course I’m filthy, stinky, and dressed like aBonanzaextra on the day I run into Sierra again.
“Man, whose idea was it to get a single-bath?” I grumble.
I peel off my shirt and pants and toss them in the washer, then head to the hallway to grab a washcloth and a bar of soap from the linen closet. At least I can wipe myself down at the kitchen sink.
“Oh!” Sierra stands in the hallway. Her bags are in her hands—she must have gone back to the living room to grab them. I’m blocking her way to the bathroom, and she’s in front of the linen closet door.
And I’m in nothing but boxers.
There’s no room to pass. Damn these narrow 1920s hallways.
“Excuse me,” I say. I can’t help noticing the way her eyes flick down my body and back up. And then down again.
“Eyes up here,” I blurt out.
We both freeze. That used to be our running joke. Sierra always complained that I was too tall, that her neck got sore from looking up at me all the time. “My neck is going to start bulging like John Cena’s if I keep this up,” she’d say.
Instead, she’d talk to my chin, neck, or shoulder. “Eyes uphere,” I’d tease whenever I caught her being lazy about eye contact.
