Page 58

Grandma calls out to us in concern, and I give her a thumbs-up to show I’m not dead. We’ve officially gotten schooled by elderly pickleball ringers on social security.

“This is humbling,” I whisper back. I turn my head to look over at him and he does the same. Fire races through me. I’d happily be embarrassed by my grandma every day if I could lie like this with Logan.

He leans up on an elbow and his eyes trail up and down my body. “Are you actually hurt?” A wrinkle shows in his forehead.

“Physically, I’m fine. Emotionally…”

“Same.” He gets to his feet and reaches his hand out tome. I take it, loving the way his warm fingers wrap around my palm, and stand up. I land just a little too close to him, but I don’t step away immediately and neither does he.

“You two okay?” Grandma calls, mischief in her voice. “Looks like you’re swaying a bit there, Quinn.”

My cheeks heat even more. I step back from Logan. “Just catching my breath.”

“No need,” Jim says with a hoot. “That was game point. You’re welcome to play with us as often as you’d like, though. I love winning.”

“We might have scared them away,” Grandma says. “We should have taken it easier on them.”

I’m out of breath, I’m sore, and I still don’t know how this game works. But that does nothing to dim the grin on my face. I point at Grandma.

“Don’t speak so fast, old lady. We’re taking you down next time.”

“What your granddaughter said,” Logan replies, and we high-five again. “Happy to be your partner anytime.”

I could get used to this.

Chapter Twenty

“Soooooo, that was intense,” Logan says as I drive down the country road to his house.

When I told him I would drive him to pickleball because of his truck, I hadn’t fully thought through the details of driving him home. Not that I mind, but it’s a long drive since he lives out in the country, and the sun is already setting. It’s a lot of time to be alone with someone I probably shouldn’t be alone with.

“Extremely intense,” I reply, happy for a neutral conversation topic. “At least Grandma had a good time.”

“Oh, she had agreattime. It looks like she might have a boyfriend too.”

I shudder. I don’t want to think about Grandma and boyfriends.

“Don’t be a hater. Everyone deserves to have someone in their life who loves them, no matter their age,” he says.

I feel his eyes on the side of my face, but I keep my focuson the road and tighten my grip on the steering wheel. So much for neutral conversations. When we pull up to his house, I slow down to take it all in.

“Whoa. So you’re, like, afarmer.”

He waves dismissively at the house and land. “That’s my dad, not me. And this is nothing—you should see a real farm. My dad always wanted to live in the country with a bunch of animals since he grew up in Cleveland, so my parents bought this place as soon as they could afford it. Now Dad spends every free minute taking care of it.”

I bet. There are probably lots of larger farms around here, but what I’m looking at seems pretty impressive. In front of me stands an old farmhouse with white siding, blue shutters, and a front porch with some paint missing. Behind it is a large barn with a tractor parked outside. It’s even red with a huge quilt block painted on it like something out of a “country life” calendar.

“It’s nice to see where you live,” I reply hesitantly. I’m not sure what the etiquette is here. Should I say goodbye and drive away? Or is he going to invite me in? This is worlds apart from when he drove me home in February.

He opens his passenger side door. “Do you want to meet the calf that my mom is bottle-feeding?” His voice is a little unsure.

“Do I want to meet an animal so small it needs to be fed with a bottle? Um,yeah.Very much so.”

I follow him to the barn, excited and nervous. He pulls open the sliding door and ushers me inside. The ground is packed dirt and on either side are horse stalls. Each is closed by a wooden half door at the bottom, while the top half isopen. None of them seem to be occupied, though a few have stacks of tools and supplies.

“No horses?”

“No, Dad says they’re too expensive. Mom keeps begging him, though, so I think it’s only a matter of time. But we’re keeping the calf over here. It’s too cold to have her outside all the time.”