“Argh,” I groan and his smile deepens.
“It’s fine. You’ll get through it, and you have your own personal paramedic to make sure of it.” He wraps his strong hand around my elbow and helps me out of the car.
“Chloe! Sugar booger! How are you?” The voice and the annoying nickname make me cringe harder than the nausea did. Logan turns his head and looks behind us.
“Mrs. Green?” He says her name with a sharp, disapproving edge so I know he’s met her before.
“She lives across the street,” I whisper.
“Now I know the real reason the rent is so low,” Logan mutters back.
I don’t have time to answer him before she’s crossed the snowy street and is halfway up my driveway. “Hi, Mrs. Green.”
“I didn’t expect to see you home tonight,” Mrs. Green tells me. She’s wrapped in a three-quarter length bright orange faux fur coat with the hood up. She looks like a fuzzy pylon. “When the paramedics whisked you away, I assumed you’d be gone at least a day. I saw you go down. Your forehead hit the step so hard I swear it literally bounced like a tennis ball,” she says and by the time she reaches us, she’s panting, even though the driveway is not that long. Her pale green eyes take a good, long, nosy look at Logan. “Logan, were you on the call? My son Ronan is off tonight, and I thought you two were on the same day shifts this week.”
“Logan is my new tenant,” I say. “I’m sure you’ve noticed him coming and going.”
“I’ve been on vacation, honey, remember? I told you I was going to Mexico for a week with my daughter Cassidy,” she says, her tone a little tight. She remembers everyone else’s business so I guess she’s annoyed I don’t remember hers. “I had no idea you had a roommate and that it was a Hawkins.”
“Tenant. I turned the garage and storage room into a self-contained apartment, Mrs. Green,” I tell her. I thought she’d probably figured that out with all the construction workers I had in and out a few months ago.
“Logan, your mom must miss not having you at home,” Mrs. Green says to him. “You’ve been there forever.”
“Actually, I was living above the restaurant most recently. With my brother.”
“Oh right. The apartment that little Jake Maverick used to live in when he disowned his mom because of all the drugs she kept taking,” Mrs. Green says lightly, even though her words are heavy and unnecessary. It’s not cool Mrs. Green is bringing up what seems to be a difficult past with me, a virtual stranger to Jake and his life.
“Mrs. Green I’m all for catching up with my new neighbor,” Logan says and his grip on my waist grows a little tighter. “But I really need to get Chloe out of this blizzard. She’s still a little dizzy from the fall.”
“Oh yes. Of course. Poor little sugar booger.” She pats the arm of my jacket. “I’m so glad I got home hours before the storm started so I could see you fall. You’d likely still be face down in the snow if it wasn’t for me.”
“Yes. Thanks for that Mrs. Green,” I say, trying not to sound sarcastic. “See you later.”
She nods. “I’ll check on you tomorrow. I also want to talk to you about the petition. You haven’t signed yet.”
“Tomorrow it is, Mrs. Green. Have a good night.” Thankfully, Logan has already helped me turn back around and is leading me to the stairs.
“Goodnight Mrs. Green,” Logan calls over his shoulder.
“Nighty-Night Sugar Plum!” she sings back as she waddles back towards her house.
“Sugar Plum?” Logan repeats under his breath and his eyebrows raise.
“She been doing this thing lately where she gives everyone on the street nicknames. Sugar Plum is one of the better ones,” I explain as we slowly climb the stairs. “I’m sugar booger for godssake. Then there’s Mrs. Feinstein, who she doesn’t like because her cat poops in Mrs. Green’s garden, so she calls her Poopsy and her husband Poopsy-Doodle.”
“And what petition is she talking about?” Logan asks.
He doesn’t let go of me the entire time we’re walking up the stairs to my porch. My jumbled brain can’t help but think that it’s been a very long time since anyone has touched me this much. Especially a man. If only I could enjoy it. “She wants the neighbors to sign a petition against lawn decorations because, in case you haven’t noticed, the Carters at the end of the block on the left have fourteen garden gnomes, four ceramic farm animals, and a metal rooster on their front lawn.”
“I’d have to be blind not to notice,” Logan replies with a rumbling chuckle bubbling up from his broad chest.
“If Mrs. Green was blind, this neighborhood would be better off,” I mutter as the pounding in my head seems to go up a notch. “She’s in everyone’s business all the time.”
“Keys,” he requests as Boss starts barking inside the house.
“Not locked,” I explain. “I was just shoveling. I didn’t plan on leaving.”
“Right.” He reaches for the antique handle and swings the door open. Boss is right there in the entry, barking and snarling. He charges at Logan, his little nails clicking on the hardwood. He stops at his foot and sniffs and his tail automatically starts wagging. “Hey little buddy. Sorry I can’t stop and say a proper hello. Gotta take your mama to bed.” His eyes widen and he glances at me as the double-entendre in his words hits him. “I mean…”
