11. Logan
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… you do make 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.
Before I could go any longer, I needed a drink. The sun and sweat were brutal, and walking up and down those steps was not helping.
“Ace,” I called down the hall and sure enough, she popped around the corner, hands on her hips like a pint-sized general.
“What’s up?”
“I’m gonna run down the street and grab us some waters. You want anything else?”
She tapped her chin, eyes sparkling with mischief before locking on mine. “Sour Patch Kids. And Airheads. Gonna need a sugar boost if I’m gonna survive.”
I saluted her then jogged down the stairs.
A few minutes later, I was standing in the blessed A/C of the convenience store, loading my arms with snacks and bottled water. The cold felt amazing, a tiny, unexpected break that left me feeling halfway human again.
When I got back and began climbing up the stairs, I heard voices—Ellie’s and someone else’s. A man’s. I didn’t recognize it, but it was deeper, confident. Her laugh floated down toward me, and something in my chest twisted.
I kept walking, loud enough to announce my return, but the voices only grew clearer. I turned the corner and froze when I saw him.
Tall. Broad. Standing a little too close to Ellie for my comfort. His black hair was cropped short, and he wore jeans that looked like they’d shrunk in the wash. Definitely not from around here. And definitely older than her, easily in his mid-thirties.
I knocked on the doorframe, and both of them turned. Ellie’s face lit up with relief.
“Thank God,” she said, walking up and grabbing the bag from my hands. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“I threw in a Dr Pepper for good measure.”
She beamed. “That’s why you’re my favorite.”
I looked past her to the other guy. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t smiled. He was staring at me, eyes throwing daggers if only they could.
I stepped forward and held out my hand. “I’m Logan.”
“Miles,” he said flatly, gripping my hand with enough force to make a point. It was one of those handshakes meant to say, I’m the alpha here. I couldn’t help but laugh a little—it was so evident it was pathetic.
Toxic masculinity wasn’t a good look on anybody.
Ellie, blissfully unaware—or pretending to be—popped a handful of Sour Patch Kids into her mouth and added, “This is the guy who bought The Coffee Cup.”
I’d heard about him but had never seen him in person. I didn’t spend much time in town, only when I came to Petal Pusher or The Tequila Cowboy.
“Nice to meet you.”
He didn’t respond, just kept watching me, like he was trying to decide whether to bark or bite.
Ellie held out her candy bag to me, and I grabbed one, chewing slowly as I watched Miles. Then, to my surprise, she offered him the bag too.
That made my stomach twist.
Why was this guy even here? Why was she sharing her candy with him?
He frowned at the bag—too good for convenience-store sugar, apparently.
“That stuff is so bad for you. It’ll make you blow up like a balloon,” Miles said with a condescending laugh, shaking his head like the mere fact Ellie and I ate processed candy was some kind of personal offense.
I glanced over at Ellie. She looked at me. In perfect sync, we both shrugged.
“I’ve been eating it my whole life,” I said, smirking as I gave my abs a quick glance, “and I’m doing just fine.”
“Yeah,” Ellie added, popping another piece into her mouth. “What he said.”
I laughed because her timing was perfect. But Miles? He inhaled sharply, like he was trying to keep himself from saying something worse.
Before I had to hear him flap his mouth again, I took that as my cue to head back downstairs. He was already starting to wear on me.
My boots hit the concrete as I rounded the corner of the shop and walked to where Ellie always parked in the alley. I opened her back door and grabbed one of the boxes, spinning around—
Only to nearly crash into Miles.
“Jesus, man,” I muttered, instinctively taking a step back. He was way too close, like he’d been waiting.
Without asking, Miles reached out to take the box from me—or tried to.
“I got it from here,” he said coolly. “Thanks for helping her out. You’re not needed anymore.”
I blinked, caught between disbelief and amusement. Then I grinned.
Did this asshole just try to dismiss me like I was some temp for hire?
“Nah, I’m good,” I replied, pulling the box back into my chest and stepping around him.
As I made for the stairs, his hand clamped onto my shoulder.
I stopped.
Slowly, I turned, and he was standing behind me with another box in his arms, trying to play it like we were just two guys helping out. But his eyes told a different story.
I stared him down, cool and unwavering.
If he thought I was going to back off, he had another thing coming.
“I’m serious,” he said, lowering his voice as if we were sharing a secret. “I’m trying to impress her. I mean, have you seen her?”
Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he let out a low, appreciative whistle.
My jaw clenched.
“So that’s what this is?” I asked, keeping my voice calm. “You’re helping her move because you want to get with her?”
There’s a difference between being drawn to someone—between genuinely wanting to show up for them—and what he was talking about.
Ellie wasn’t some casual prize to chase or a challenge to conquer. She deserved better. So much better.
She deserved tenderness. Patience. A man who saw her fire and matched it, not someone who wanted to own it.
“She’s hot,” Miles said, like he hadn’t heard a word I’d said. “And I know these small-town girls eat up charm. So yeah—I like my odds.”
He motioned toward the box in his hands like it was his golden ticket.
I scoffed, shaking my head. “For fuck’s sake.”
With that, I turned and walked up the steps without another word.
He wasn’t just getting under my skin—he was burrowing in deep, testing every ounce of patience I had left.
I was a levelheaded guy. Collected. Steady.
But when it came to Ellie, there were lines I didn’t let anyone cross.
And Miles was one cocky comment away from crossing all of them.
Unfortunately for me, Miles stuck around for the rest of the unloading and then some.
Between his backhanded comments about Ellie’s eating habits and the way his gaze lingered on places it shouldn’t, jealousy burned like a low flame in my chest. But I held my ground.
Ellie wasn’t bothered—or at least, she didn’t show it—so I couldn’t exactly go caveman and turn it into a problem if she didn’t see one.
About thirty minutes ago, Miles took a phone call and stepped outside. Something told me he wasn’t coming back, and honestly, I wasn’t complaining.
Ellie and I had moved on to unpacking her boxes, starting with the kitchen. She was on her tiptoes, stacking bowls into a cabinet when the words tumbled out of me.
“I need to ask you something.”
“Shoot,” she said, balancing the last bowl before turning back around.
“Was it just me, or is that Miles guy a complete tool?”
Ellie gave me a look that was half amusement, half really, Logan?
“The comments he made, the way he kept looking at you…” I shook my head, still not over it. “I mean—”
“Logan,” she interrupted with a laugh, brushing it off. “He’s just some guy. It’s not a big deal. He can say whatever he wants. I’m choosing to believe he means well. He’s just… different.”
“Different?” I echoed, incredulous.
“He’s not from here. He’s from the city. People there are more…” She swirled her hands in the air, trying to catch the right word.
“Condescending? Asshole-ish?” I offered.
She snorted. “No. Just… straightforward. I kind of like it.”
The words hit me square in the chest. My jaw tightened, but I swallowed everything I wanted to say. I didn’t want to overstep, especially not after what she’d been through in Faircloud. She needed to trust her gut again. Not have someone else tell her what it should be saying.
So instead, I exhaled, grabbed another set of items from the box, and placed them carefully on her counter.
“I just want to make sure you’re okay with it,” I said, quieter now. Because I sure as hell would never treat you like that.
“I’m okay,” she replied, reaching out and placing her hand on my arm. The warmth of her touch settled something restless in me.
“I have to say, though,” I added, unable to stop myself, “when he made that comment about you eating too much processed sugar and blowing up like a balloon, I nearly did blow up.”
Something in Miles’s eyes shifted every time Ellie brushed him off, like he didn’t like being laughed at. It wasn’t just irritation; it was something deeper. Something darker. Something I didn’t trust.
“He’s different,” Ellie said again, softer this time, like she was trying to convince herself. “He’s not some small-town guy wanting to settle down with the small-town girl. Maybe different is what I need. And who would I be if I didn’t at least try something new?”
Her smile was gentle, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
I stepped forward and cupped her face with both hands, holding her still so she’d really hear me.
“I don’t like him. Not even a little.” She rolled her eyes, but I didn’t let her look away. “But if you trust him, I’ll back off. I’ll respect that. If he does anything that feels wrong, you come to me. Immediately. Got it?”
Ellie’s grin softened into something real, something warm. She nodded.
“I will,” she muttered. “I promise.”
I lingered for a moment or two longer before I let go and took a step back toward the open box.
“We are going on a date this weekend, so I can tell you more about him after that.”
My stomach dropped to my feet, and I paused. It felt like a dozen elephants sat on my chest, weighing me down with my feelings.
A date?
With him?
I felt hot, skin prickling. The idea of her with him—laughing and smiling on a date—made my ears ring with irritation. Jealousy. Envy. Longing.
But none of how I felt mattered because my feelings weren’t out in the open. I’d been holding them close to my chest to respect her transition back to Faircloud.
If I’d known she was open to the idea of dating, I would’ve taken my shot.
Would I have, though?
I’d been too chickenshit to ask Ellie Cassidy on a date, and it looks like I lost my chance…again.