Chapter 5 #2
A hot rush moves up my neck and I know I’m blushing.
I hate it when I do that because my cheeks get red and blotchy.
Plus, there's no way this hunk of a man is flirting with me.
He must have a supermodel girlfriend in every town.
What could he possibly want with a small-town librarian?
Other than a little conversation and maybe a hot dinner?
We're not high school kids anymore, and I'm not helping him pass English class. It's just wishful thinking on my part. So similar to that feeling I'd had when I tutored the town's golden boy. It was hard enough to watch him walk away then. I'm not about to go there again.
I jump up and make myself busy, scooping Cookie's food into her bowl. Snagging a bag of shredded chicken, I call out, “Violet, do you want to help me make Cookie's dinner?”
Violet appears by my side in just seconds, her face eager. Cookie appears next to her, a similar twinkle in her expressive eyes. I hand over the chicken and kibble, directing her on how to mix the ingredients.
“Cookie likes to feel as if she's getting a gourmet meal.” That comment earns me another corgi side-eye.
“Okay, that's perfect. Good job, honey. You can set it over there for her.
She's ready to eat,” I add as I pull the casserole from the oven and place it on the table.
“This is done. Now it just needs to rest for a couple minutes.”
We settle in and I can't help but note how domestic this feels as I dish out servings. This really is my signature dish and the seasonings were on point. But I always wonder how someone else will feel about it. Plus all that cheese…
I know I hit the jackpot when Logan moans and his eyes roll back in his head as he chews slowly.
After several moments of savoring his bite, he shoots me a grin that does illegal things to my pulse and should probably come with a warning label.
“That's just about the best damn thing I think I've ever tasted.”
I nearly wilt in relief, both annoyed and pleased that he likes it. Annoyed that his approval means that much and pleased in a deep guttural way that I can't explain. Warmth blooms in my chest, and I know my cheeks are glowing at the compliment.
“I'm telling you, it's the cheese. Dairy overload for the win.”
“I like it,” Violet chimes in, shoveling in a huge bite that barely fits in her small mouth.
Logan blinks, staring intently at his niece. Then his gaze lifts to mine, and a huge smile stretches across his face. He gives me a dashing wink before he digs back in.
I can't decide what affects me more, that wink or the humming sound coming from Violet. But I know I haven't felt this peaceful or happy in a long time.
“I'm not sure if your marketing people mentioned it, but the town is holding an artisan market at the fairgrounds in a few weeks. They usually schedule them four times a year, and the Christmas market is in November. It always draws the biggest crowd, so we’ll be swamped.” I shrug.
“I mean, it would be a great opportunity to get the baseball team in front of the community. I have a booth for the library. If you wanted, I could see if they'd give you a spot, and we could do a promotion together. Our focus is the new children’s library.”
Logan frowns. “The new children's library? What's wrong with the one you have? It was popular today.”
“It is,” I agree. “But we can do so much better than just that small section. I want to create an interactive reading place where children can really learn to love books. I submitted another grant to Sapphire Development, but that may take a while and it’s a longshot.
They already donated to outfit the lighthouse for our archives and move the general library to the lightkeeper’s cottage.
I'm not sure they'll want to invest more.
But they've been incredibly generous to all the organizations in the area.”
“So if we partner together,” he inserts, “with you promoting the library and us promoting The Rockets, we'll cover more ground.”
“Exactly! Cross-promotion always works better. And your marketing team is always welcome at the library if you want to do any season ticket drives.”
Logan purses his lips and rubs his square chin. “I like it. I'll talk to them tomorrow.”
“Great.” I lean my elbows on the table. “So what does it look like on the inside? Are The Rockets as chaotic as everyone thinks?”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Well… you know.” I flail a hand in the air.
“They've been struggling with attendance for years and finally got that new ball field. Which is amazing, by the way. They had a Bring-Your-Dog night in July, and Cookie and I had a great time. She spent most of the time trying to steal hotdogs from unsuspecting attendees.”
Violet giggles. “Cookie, that's naughty.”
“Right? She was particularly naughty that night.” I chuckle, watching the corgi lift her nose in disdain and flounce toward the living room. “Uh oh. I think we've hurt her feelings. Violet, you may need to give her some extra snuggles while we clean the kitchen.”
“Okay!”
Violet skips toward the living room as I put away food and Logan loads the dishwasher. It's an oddly soothing kind of routine, and I can't help but notice how comfortable I am around him. Probably because we knew each other so long ago and spent so much time together studying.
I'd die of embarrassment if he ever found out how much of a crush I had on him. If I have anything to say about it, that particular secret will go to my grave.
“You didn't answer my question.”
Logan turns to me, his brows raised and a soapy sponge in one hand. “About what?"
“How the Rockets look on the inside,” I answer. “It's difficult not to wonder since they flipped the entire management team.”
“Ah.” He turns back to the sink, soaping up a plate before placing it in the dishwasher. “It's gonna take some work. The coaching staff is mediocre, and we need to do some serious recruiting. I got a good head start on some positive changes today.”
“That's good. I heard more energy in those few sentences than I think we ever saw in the team over the last few years.”
He prewashes another dish and I fight the urge to push him aside and take over. “You do realize you don't need to wash the dishes before you put them in the dishwasher.”
He glances at the soaped plate in his hand, then looks up. “You have to get the food chunks off or they won't get clean.”
“Rinse yes. But wash, no. That's a dishwasher's job, the entire reason for its existence is to clean dishes.” I exaggerate the last four words.
Logan huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “A dishwasher doesn't really clean. It just disinfects.”
“Oh my god.” I point at him. “You're one of those people.”
His eyes narrow. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don't trust other people or things to do something you can do. You always think you can do it better.”
“Well…” He grins at me sheepishly. “When it comes to washing dishes, yeah, I guess.”
I roll my eyes, pretending to be annoyed. But honestly, teasing him is the most fun I've had in years. It doesn’t hurt that he's drop dead gorgeous. “You're also probably one of those people who straightens the shelves in the grocery store or refolds clothes in a retail shop.”
Logan swivels, soapy hands planted on his hips. “Look. It’s not my fault that the shelf looks better when the cans are lined up or if the clothes are stacked just right.”
I lose it, bending at the waist and laughing so hard my ribs hurt. I can't help it because he's serious. I know he actually does it. I can see him now: pushing his cart down a long grocery store aisle, aligning every can like it's his full-time job.
“Stop it,” he growls as he takes a step toward me, but I hear the humor in his voice. He's not offended at all and is fighting back his own laughter.
“Let me know if the team manager gig falls apart.” I giggle. “I'm sure we could use your expertise in the library. The Dewey Decimal System doesn't stand a chance against you.”
In a swift, impressive move, he's standing a breath away, his mouth hovering close to mine. “I just might take you up on that.” His voice has taken a deep dive into a lower octave that I feel in my core and sets my blood on fire.
Does he have any idea what he's doing to me?
I doubt it. He never noticed when we were teenagers, and I was ridiculously moonfaced around him, practically worshipping the ground he walked on. But then again, everyone in this town did.
His lips are so close to mine that all I'd have to do is lift an inch or two and they'd connect. Oh, it's so tempting, and I'm fighting the urge hard. The last thing in the world I need to do right now is make everything awkward with my new neighbor and old crush.
A dark brown eyebrow arches up as his lips curl at the corners, as if he knows what I'm thinking and daring me. He kinda looks like the Grinch as he gets the diabolical idea to raid the town. “What? No sassy comeback this time?”
I rest my hand on his chest. His heart thunders against my palm. “Sorry. I'm a little busy picturing you in my library…”
“What do I look like?” he whispers, inching even closer.
I lick my lips and his eyes drop to watch.
Holy lord. This guy is killing me.
I swallow hard, wondering how honest to be. Should I tell him he's shirtless, wearing only a snug pair of gray sweatpants that outlines his male parts in the very best way? His bulging muscles are glistening as he moves about the room, his OCD on parade, straightening every out-of-place book.
“Mmmmhmmmm…” His grin is E-V-I-L. “Looks like Cookie isn't the only one who's naughty,” he murmurs, his voice husky. Our lips are nearly touching, and I feel like I'm about to come out of my skin. We're literally just a breath apart, and my body is on fire.
“No, I'm not,” I protest, wondering if I'm about to have a heat stroke.
“Oh, yes, you are.” His hand lands on my hip. “And I love it.”
His mouth swoops in and captures mine, and time stands still.
His lips are warm and sure, as if he's trying to memorize the shape of my mouth.
My breath hitches, then melts into his as the world narrows to this moment.
Everything else fades out. This isn't just a kiss.
It's a jolt, a slow burn, and nothing will ever be the same again for me.
“What are you doing?”
The innocent words rip us apart, and we stare at each other in horror, both panting and in shock.
Violet, thumb in her mouth, and Cookie both stand in the doorway, staring at us as if we'd said a bad word. There’s blatant judgement in Cookie's gaze.
“Uhhhh…” Logan glances at me, eyes wide in panic. “We—”
“Your uncle was just showing me how to do something,” I fib, latching onto the first thought that shoots through my short-circuited brain.
Violet pops out her thumb, her little brow wrinkling. “So he kissed you on the mouth?”
“Yeah.” I flap my hands. “Well, that kinda happened by accident. But, he was telling me how important it is to scrub dishes before we put them in the dishwasher.”
“She didn't believe me,” Logan adds. “So I had to convince her.”
Violet's sharp gaze ping-pongs between us and she finally shrugs. “Are you gonna watch the movie?”
“Vi, we really should get home. It's almost bed time for you.”
Her bottom lip juts out and it's all I can do not to rush over and give her a hug. “But I wanna watch the movie with Cookie.”
Logan sighs and looks to me.
I give him a shrug. “It's just another hour, and she'll be ready for bed by that point.”
“If you're sure.”
“Are you kidding? Cookie and I would have ended up on the couch tonight with a piece of cake, so this isn't anything out of the ordinary for us.”
“Cake?” The word slips from Violet as if it's the best thing she's ever heard.
I give her a grin. “Oh yeah. I bought a big strawberry cake. Are you ready for dessert?”
Violet nods, her eyes eager.
“Okay, but you need to relax with Cookie afterward, alright? Because it'll be time to go to bed right after.” I point to the living room. “Go watch the movie and we'll be in with the cake in a minute.”
Without another word, Violet and Cookie head back to the couch.
“Are you sure this is okay?” Logan asks as I snag the cake out of the fridge.
“Of course.” I heft it in my hands. “My eyes were a little bigger than my stomach when I bought this thing. We'll definitely need help eating it.”
Logan huffs a laugh, giving me a sexy leer. “I've been known to tear into a cake a time or two.”
So what if I secretly hope ‘cake’ is his code name for my ass.