“Is this where you got B.W.?” Logan asks, his frown deepening as he returns his attention to my phone. He could just take it out of my hand. He doesn’t have to hold my wrist like this, but he isn’t letting go.
“B.W.?” I repeat, alarmed by the breathiness of my tone. It should take more than a simple bit of physical contact to override my senses and turn me into a pile of goo. But it’s been areallylong time since anyone touched me like this.
“Beef Wellington.” Without releasing my wrist, he shifts his hold so he can scroll through the page with his thumb. “They have locations all over the country?”
I need to get a grip. Like Logan has with my wrist.Gah. “The world, actually.” At least now I sound less like I’m about to pass out, but I take a couple deep breaths to reset my lungs and return some strength to my voice. “That’s why it’s so heartbreaking that they haven’t found a home for Princess yet.”
“So you’re a softy under all that spunk,” Logan murmurs. Was I supposed to hear that? I have no idea, but my face flames again. That was a compliment, right? Unless… Okay, I’m starting to understand why Logan’s teammates have such a hard time with the advice he gives them. It’s the whole “nice things in a condescending tone” thing that threw me off a few weeks ago.
“Um.” The word comes out as a squeak, so I clear my throat. I need to take control of this conversation before my thoughts run wild. “Were the snacks I made for you last week good?”
His little snort of laughter does nothing to cool me down when he also decides to run his fingers from my wrist up my arm and back down again, still reading something on the screen. “Everything you make is good, Savannah. Everythingaboutyou is good.”
At that, my fingers lose hold of my phone, and it thumps onto Beef’s back. My cat lifts his head to give me a steely stare before curling back up in a ball like he can’t be bothered now that he’s in his favorite place.
Coughing, Logan slowly pulls his fingers away from my arm, and based on the confusion in his expression, it’s almost like he didn’t realize he was still touching me. And I can’t decide if I’d prefer his actions to be deliberate or instinctive. Do I want him to want me? He picks up my phone, holding it only an inch from my hand, and when I take it, our fingers brush and send an electric shock through me.
Reminding myself that he’s leaving in July and I need to put my full focus into True Fuel Kitchen, I scoot forward to get off his lap and gather his weekly meals for him.
Logan grips my elbow, holding me in place.
I look at him.
He looks at me.
And for a second, I think the whole room starts spinning when his eyes slip down to my mouth and darken. He’s not going to… Is he going to kiss me?
But then Logan lets go of my arm, dropping his gaze and moving his hands to the cat on his chest. “I should, er, be on my way.”
“Oh.” This is what I want, what Ineed, but suddenly I can’t move.
Logan scoops Beef up and sets him on the floor, much to the cat’s irritation, and then his hands are on me as he sits up. One arm goes around my back while the other slips under my legs, bringing his face so close that my breath hitches in my throat. In one fluid motion, he lifts me like I weigh nothing and sets me on my feet. Logan’s usually so graceful, but as he stands and Beef slips between his feet, he stumbles into me and has to grab my shoulders to keep from knocking me over. And our bodies are suddenly flush together.
Still frozen, I can’t think about anything except the warmth of his body pressed to my back as he holds me steady for a lot longer than he needs to.
“Sorry,” he mutters breathlessly, the word brushing against my neck and sending a chill through me. With flustered movements, he hurries to the kitchen and loads his arms with meals like he’s desperate to get as far from me as he can. Trays and boxes balance precariously in front of him, and he pauses halfway to the door, his mouth open and an almost wild look in his eyes. “See you next week.” He finagles the food in his arms to get the door open and slips out without a backward glance, practically slamming the door behind him.
I exhale for what feels like the first time since he grabbed my elbow, pressing a hand over my racing heart. “What just happened?” I ask Beef.
My cat blinks at me, licking his lips, then trots over to the door and sits down.
Like he’s waiting for Logan to come back because he left far too soon.
“I’m with you, Wellie,” I mutter and run my fingers through my hair. “But I don’t think we’re going to like how this turns out.”
Unfortunately, I have a feeling Beef and I are already in too deep.
How did that happen?
Chapter 9
Logan
Iwouldn’tcallmyselfthe king of great ideas, but neither have I ever been full of bad ones. Usually I fall somewhere in the middle, most of my ideas being solid with a few questionables thrown in. This? This feels like the worst decision in the world.
The idiocy of showing up to a high school lacrosse practice hasn’t stopped me from following through, which I’m blaming on the lethal combination of desperation and frustration. In the last two weeks, I’ve had no forward progress with Lola, and nothing drives me madder than stagnation. Hence my questionable dive into school records.
If nothing else, coming here is less dangerous than going to Savannah’s flat and discovering how it feels to kiss her, something I’ve been wanting to do for a full week now.
