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I cough. “No, no. I’ll keep looking.”
The shop clerk rolls his eyes as if I haven’t a clue.
“It’s a Gary Crompton,” Logan says, a playful smile at his lips. “We’ll take it.”
I nibble on my inner cheek, admiring the color of the pretty bicycle. I’ve fallen half in love with the Gary Crompton already. “Okay then, I guess I’m taking it.” I place my hand in Logan’s and squeeze, sending pleasant little pricks and pins up my arm and into my chest. “Thank you.”
Logan loads my bike into the back of his truck. I sit at an angle, staring out the back window to peer at it, somewhat elated.
Shifting into reverse, Logan checks both mirrors. “It’s almost seven. Want to grab some dinner?”
My stomach growls in reply. “Yes,” I say, but the sit-down restaurant Logan pulls into has me on edge. I hiss, my eyes skirting to the back window while staying rooted in my seat. I press my lips together, my nerve endings telling me this is a bad idea. “What about Gary?”
Logan raises one brow. “I don’t think he’s hungry.”
“He’s in the back, without a cover or a lock.”
“We’ll get a seat by the window. Gary will be fine.” Without a worry or a word, he steps from the truck, walks around to my side, and opens the passenger door. Taking my hand, he pulls me from the cab. “We’re in Wyoming. People don’t steal other people’s bicycles here.” His warm, calloused fingers intertwine with mine as he drags me along behind him.
“Is that true?”
“Mostly.” He chuckles. “Trust me, your bicycle is safe.”
A hostess leads us to our seats, and I peer out the window as we walk. “Oh! Can we sit here?” I ask the girl. I swallow and point to the window. “It’s a good view.”
I slide into the booth before she gets a chance to answer and watch as a boy walks by Logan’s truck, eyeing Gary along his way.
“He’s nine. Maybe ten,” Logan says. He reaches across the table to unclench my fist.
“Do you have any idea what ten-year-olds are capable of?” I tap my pointer finger on the tabletop.
“Do you?” Logan snickers, and with his laugh, I let out a breath.
Shaking my head, I attempt to laugh with him. “No, actually. I do not.”
“He’s going to be okay. Promise,” Logan says. We talk and talk and talk. Long after we’ve eaten and the waitress has taken our empty dishes, we are still talking. There has been ample time for someone to steal Gary. But no one has even looked at him since that sketchy-looking kid.
We step outside, the moon bright. Chill bumps spread over my arms, and the cool air nips at my cheeks. “I guess you were right,” I say, gazing across the lot at my new bike in the back of Logan’s truck.
Logan peers over at me. I can’t quite make out his eye color in the dimness. “That’s one for you, one for me.”
I breathe out a hushed snicker, looking over at him. “What does that mean?”
“You were right about Amelia and Seth.”
“Oh, yes, I was.” I pinch my lips, trying not to smirk.
Logan laughs at my effort. “Does this mean I get to yell ‘Ha!’?” He slips his hand into mine as we stroll toward his truck.
My breath hitches, the warmth of his palm and fingers sending fire through each of my limbs. Holy smokes. I like the feel of him—a lot—too much for a girl who just ended things with a long-term boyfriend. “Logan.” I nibble on my lip and drop my gaze to our knotted hands. “I don’t know about this.”
“Liv, I like you,” he says. “And I’m pretty sure you like me.” He quirks one brow. “Please, correct me if I’m wrong.”
I swallow down my trepidation. He likes me. “Benjamin and I were together a long time. This is quick. Don’t you think?”
“Too quick for you or too quick for Ben? Because I’m not worried about him.”
“Uhh—” I have no words, because the honest-to-goodness truth is it doesn’t feel too soon. It feels kind of perfect. However, that’s definitely my heart talking, and I’m not sure my heart can be trusted yet.
