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I jump, scared out of my bones, when I heard Logan’s voice. Only to get a second jump scare when I see him standing in front of me, holding a bowl with a wooden spoon inside.
“Nothing,” I say hurriedly. “I was talking to myself.”
“Sorry,” he says, “for scaring you. I thought it was Madison when I heard your footsteps. She tends to drag her feet when she’s very hungry, and I was coming to tell her that I’ll have pancakes out in an instant.”
Oh. I see.
“That doesn’t look like a jiffy to me,” I say, pointing at the bowl in his hand. “You're still mixing the batter.”
The words, brought on by my brain’s need to engage in conversation with Logan, jump out of my mouth before I can stop them. I give myself a mental slap, saving the second one when I see him laugh.
“You got me. So, let’s keep this a secret from her, or you’ll become an unwilling accomplice,” he says, putting a finger to his lips.
My brain interprets the scenario differently—that we’re so close we have a secret language between us. Just like lovers would.
Yes. This isn’t going to be easy.
“Sure,” I say hurriedly, “but I need to attend to these flowers before they die. I have a feeling that Madison will not be too pleased with me if they do.”
“Oh,” he moves out of my way, “I didn’t think about that. You need a bottle, right? Or a vase. I’ll get something for you; just give me a moment.”
I put my hand out to stop him before my mouth voices, “No,” in a high pitch. I clear my throat, realizing I just went into full panic mode.
“I mean, the extra seconds you waste going to get the vase or looking for a bottle, you could start making those cakes pop. I can handle one bouquet, no problemo!”
Christ. Was that an attempt at a joke? I suck. Terribly.
Logan nods. “You’re smarter than me, apparently. Alright then. I’ll stick to cooking, and you keep the flowers alive. I will make sure to make the cakes pop.”
He smiles. Against my wishes, I smile and stare at him as he returns to the counter. This time around, I give myself a physical slap. Not loud enough to get his attention, but the impact leaves my cheek stinging for a good minute.
Rubbing the spot, I head for the sink, where I see a plastic bottle sitting next to the plate rack. Co-existing, I think as I look at Logan. It feels good to be productive in a space with someone else. Someone I trust.
Someone I care for.
CHAPTER 15
Logan
“They just left,” I tell Ethan as we walk into the house. “Madison wanted a gift for Lily, and she wanted her to pick out what she liked.”
Ethan smiles. “It sounds like your daughter has found someone other than you to share her hobbies with.”
“Right?” I settle down on the couch, and he sits beside me, “but I’m glad it’s Lily.”
The words leave my lips before my brain registers them and the implication of what it would mean to Ethan. When I turn to him, I see the knowing look on his face.
“Tell me, do you like her?” he asks.
“Define ‘like,’” I say, skirting around the subject. “If you’re asking if she’s good company, then yes. Lily, as part of our… I don’t know what to call it, has made the summer better.
“Do I like her as someone fun, bubbly, and helpful? Yes,” I add. “I do. I’d be crazy not to, considering the weeks we’ve spent together.”
He shakes his head. “You know well enough that isn't what I meant. Perhaps I should rephrase. Do you have feelings for Lily? The kind that makes your heart beat fast and you, at times, think about kissing her?
“Do you want to kiss her?”
“Why would you—if you’re trying to get me settled down, then be straightforward. No one likes a matchmaker who tries to be subtle but isn’t,” I say, using his words against him before he has me backed into a corner.
