“Two hundred and ten dollars going once, going twice, and sold, to the tea lover in the denim overalls,” Herman announced with unnecessary theatrics since everyone in the room knew Archie by name.
The one thing Abby felt confident everyonedidn’tknow about Archie was why he’d taken a sudden and expensive interest in fine china.
Chapter 2
LOGAN
Two hundred and ten dollars?
Logan Mathews gawked at his cell phone screen. He’d just given Archie Higgins permission to spend beaucoup bucks on a sugar bowl. A sugar bowl! Had he lost his mind?
Okay, so it wasn’t justanysugar bowl. It wasthesugar bowl. The one Abby had been hunting for months. She’d been talking about throwing some sort of fancy-schmancy tea party for their guests at the inn, and for some reason, the miniature bowl with a matching lid played a critical role. He didn’t understand the details, but the instant Abby saw it listed on Herman’s auction brochure, she hadn’t stopped gushing about it. Which gave him an idea.
In hindsight, likely a verybadidea.
He set his phone on the white quartz countertop, face-up, so he’d see Archie’s next text the second it came through, and went back to work slapping labels on small glass jars. The scent of frou-frou rash balm filled the kitchen with hints of coconut, mint, and lime, but Logan barely noticed.
There’s no way the bid price could go any higher, right? How many people wanted an old sugar bowl?
Logan shot another glance at his phone.Nothing. Anxiety vibrated through his body like an idling jet engine. He’d counted on spending fifty or sixty bucks. Maybe seventy-five. But this was wild. Was Abby the one upping the bid so high?
He groaned, regret slamming against his chest. What kind of genius thought it was romantic to bid against his own girlfriend? Granted, his last relationship had bombed eons ago, and he was out of practice in the romance department. But he didn’t think he wasthisrusty. He could hear his old Air Force buddies now.Way to go, Nugget. You rolled in with your hair on fire and overshot the target.
“Hey, twitchy fingers. It’s upside down.” Evan Blake’s teasing tone broke through his thoughts.
Logan blinked, redirecting his attention to the jar clasped in his hands. The wordsEvan Blake’s Epic Rash Balmstared up at him, but backward.Drat.
“Sorry, man. I was distracted.” He carefully peeled off the label and reapplied it right side up.
“Yeah, no kidding.” Evan chuckled. “What’s up?” He set a fresh batch of newly filled jars on the counter.
“Waiting on a final word from Archie. And the anxiety might kill me.” The erratic pulse and heart-hammering-in-your-throat sensations were all too familiar from his time flying an F-16, but somehow, this felt more intense.
“Oh, right. Today’s the auction. How’s that going?”
“Could be better. I’m already out over two hundo, and I’m just now realizing Abby might not appreciate being outbid.”
“I think she’ll forgive you once you give it to her and she sees what you put inside.”
“Good point.” Some of the pressure eased in Logan’s chest. He sure hoped Evan was right.
“Who needs to forgive you and what for?” Evan’s dad, Michael Blake, strolled into the kitchen clutching an enormous Tupperware container.
“Don’t worry, Mr. B. Nothing nefarious.” Logan sniffed the air. The perpetual scent of piña colada now carried a distinct whiff of cinnamon and spice.
“That’s a relief. Then I can, in good conscience, offer you one of Bonnie’s special cinnamon rolls.” Mr. B peeled back the lid, releasing a rush of aromatic steam.
Logan’s mouth watered. Bonnie Larsen sure knew how to bake.
“I gotta say, Dad”—Evan grabbed three plates from the cupboard—“as happy as I am that you and Bonnie are dating, all these snack breaks are bad for business.”
“It’s the price you pay for running Epic Inc. out of my kitchen,” his dad teased.
“Touché.” Evan flashed a lopsided grin.
Since Evan lived in a seashell-sized bungalow on the beach, his dad offered to let him run his new startup from his sprawling midcentury modern home. With its impressively detailed craftsmanship—including a seamless wall of windows overlooking the ocean that defied logic—and state-of-the-art fixtures, it was exactly the sort of place you’d expect from the owner of M.B. Construction. A little too modern for Logan’s tastes. But then, he was hardly objective. Not even Buckingham Palace could compare to the inn he ran with Abby. She made Blessings on State Street paradise simply by being there, and he didn’t care how sappy that sounded.
From the moment they met last Christmas, she’d completely changed his life. He’d gone from a self-proclaimed recluse to someone who not only left the house once in a while, but a guy who actually had friends. Friends like Evan, who’d offered him a part-time job when he’d needed a little extra cash. A job he enjoyed way more than he’d expected.
