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Logan suddenly broke into a forced coughing fit in the kitchen, loudly clearing his throat. It was dramatic, and to me, it was obvious he was faking it. I could hear him hit his chest, forcing out a string of grumbled, unintelligible curses.
I smiled but didn’t stay to wait for them to figure out why he was being so ridiculous. When they paused the movie they’d had playing, I hurried through the door and pulled it shut behind me. The door latched, and it sounded like glass shattering, but when I heard Auston on the other side of it, I knew they hadn’t heard it.
“You’re such a fucking dickhead!” Auston cursed, and Logan laughed.
Suddenly it got quiet, and as I stepped away from the door, I heard Logan’s muffled reply. “Yeah, my bad. I’m gonna hit the hay.”
I could imagine the look on Auston’s face when his demeanor suddenly changed. He likely told him to “get fucked” and turned his movie back on. They hadn’t seen me, though, or if they had, he was good at pretending he didn’t. Logan’s distraction had been annoying enough that I was sure he hadn’t.
When I turned around the corner, I cursed myself for parking farther away. I didn’t want to risk my car being seen, but sneaking around in the dark like a teenager trying to get drunk without their mom knowing didn’t feel great either. I was twenty-five, not sixteen.
The horn on my car beeped, and I climbed in, slamming it shut behind me. I sat back against the seat, my heart pounding from the rush of adrenaline. Then I laughed. I laughed the kind of laugh that made you lose your voice and just wheeze—the kind that made you grip your sides.
The entire thing was so ridiculous, and I pulled my phone out to let Emmy know I was on my way home. On my screen was a notification for a new text, and when I unlocked it, I was surprised by my small smile.
LOGAN: Are you okay?
ME: I’m good.
LOGAN: That was something.
I laughed, sure Logan’s act in the kitchen would be a topic of conversation for a few days.
ME: Something. That’s for sure.
LOGAN: Good night.
My chest fluttered with a rush of involuntary butterflies. I didn’t want Logan to like me. It was easy when he hated me.
No strings attached.
Chapter 21
Logan
Pour Decisions was dead. It wasn’t surprising for the Wednesday crowd to be thin, limited to a few regulars and a happy hour or two. It seemed most people going out on a weekday chose Thursday instead of Wednesday. That tended to be the reason I liked working on Wednesdays. I didn’t mind the quiet monotony.
I sliced through another lime, sliding the individual wedges into a container that went into the small fridge under the counter. We rarely used them, and I’d probably end up throwing most of these out the next night. That was how it usually went.
As I reached for the last lime, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was unusual for me to get a phone call that wasn’t spam, so I ignored it. When it started to buzz a second time, I pulled it out.
Simone. My stomach sank as her name flashed on the screen. Why was she calling me?
“Hey, what’s going on?” I tried to hide the suspicion in my voice.
“Logan…” Simone was quiet and hesitant. “I need your help.”
Instant swirls of panic filled my chest, and thoughts of the worst-case scenario invaded my mind. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Next to me, Ash looked up. His eyes were wide, detecting the anxiety in my voice. He stopped stacking the glasses, putting his hand on the counter to listen.
“My car broke down.”
“Where?” I breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn’t hurt, glad it was a car issue.
She stuttered slightly. “I-I’m on Highway 131. I don’t know what mile I’m at. I, um, wasn’t paying attention.”
I swallowed the frustration when I remembered her black Honda Civic. The rain falling outside would affect the visibility. How much warning would the hazard lights give the other drivers before she was at risk? I swallowed. Her car was small. If she got hit, it wasn’t going to be great.
