He laughed. “Yes. I’d like to take you out. To the city. Just the two of us.”
My mind raced, sifting through hesitation, nerves, and the nagging voice of public opinion.
This all sounded good in theory, talk to and get to know the city guy for fun, to explore and see what life had to offer. But now that he’d actually asked me out?
Anxiety was flooding through my veins.
I thought about what would be said, that people would think I’d moved on too fast from the whole Buck thing, but it’d been so long.
There had been plenty of time to grieve that relationship and start exploring something new.
To hell with what anyone thought.
“Yes,” I said, more certain than I expected. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”
Miles’s smile was electric. “Perfect. I’ve got just the place in mind. I’ll text you the details.”
He turned to leave, pausing and glancing over his shoulder. “Oh, and wear something fancy.”
Fancy?Oh, God…
A whole new wave of panic set in. I wasn’t the fancy type. I was the worn boots, dirty jeans, and wild hair type.
The bell above the door chimed softly as he exited.
I stared at the spot where he’d stood, heart fluttering, coffee forgotten. Then I bit my lip, leaning back against the counter and letting the moment wash over me.
I could do this.
A date wasn’t a commitment. It was a chance.
Miles was different and maybe… just maybe,differentwas exactly what I needed.
11
LOGAN
Istood at the back of my truck, eyeing the pile of boxes I’d loaded for Ellie’s move. Her whole life, almost, was packed into cardboard, waiting to be hauled up to her new place above the flower shop. I placed my hands on my hips and blew out a breath, mentally preparing for the uphill battle that was those stairs.
The sun was relentless today, beating down like it had something to prove. I’d thrown on a cutoff tee that clung to my back with sweat and dipped low enough to show my ribs. My jeans were worn in, my boots scuffed, and the cowboy hat on my head—well, that had felt like a good idea this morning. Now it was matting my hair and cooking my scalp, but taking it off would only make me look like a soaked fool.
Grabbing the first box, I started up the steps, careful not to trip over my own feet or bump into the railing. Once inside, I dropped it in the middle of the living room and turned to find Ellie already rubbing her hands together like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Here we go!” she chirped. “I’m gonna start sorting. Living room, bedroom, bathroom, kitchen. You keep doing the heavy lifting.”
“Giving me the hard job, huh?” I teased.
She giggled, biting her lip in that way that made my heart trip. Then she reached out and squeezed my bicep, her fingers lingering longer than they needed to.
“I mean… youdomake it look easy.”
Just for fun—and maybe to impress her a little—I lifted my arm and flexed.
“See what I mean?” she said with a laugh, tapping my arm before moving the nearest box toward the kitchen.
I shook my head, smiling like an idiot, and trudged back downstairs.
One by one, I moved every box into the apartment until the living room looked like a shipping center. But we weren’t done yet. In the back of her truck were the bed frame, mattress, and a few stray boxes crammed into the back seat.
