Page 46 of Defensive Desire

“Oh, please. You so are.”

I can’t help but smile, even as my heart pounds in my chest. “It was just one kiss. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Lucy snorts. “One kiss from Logan Kane means everything. That man doesn’t just kiss people. He doesn’t even hug people.I’ve seen him check a guy through the boards just for patting his shoulder.”

I giggle, thinking about how he looks so fierce on the ice, but then is so tender last night. “He just... makes me feel safe. And wanted. And... special.”

Lucy’s expression softens. “That’s because you are. And Logan’s finally smart enough to realize it.”

The bell over the door chimes, and I glance up to see Mrs. Jenkins come in, her usual afternoon order already in my head.

“I’ll take my usual, dear,” she says with a wink.

I get to work on her drink, and Lucy leans closer, her voice dropping. “So... when’s the next date?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, keeping my hands busy. “I mean, he texted earlier, but it wasn’t... specific.”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “Girl, you kissed. That means next time, you go for broke.”

“Me? broke?” I squeak. "I'm not even sure what that means."

“Yes, you do. It’s the twenty-first century. You can totally initiate sex.”

Before I can catch my jaw from dropping, the bell chimes again, and Clara steps in, clutching a stack of papers, looking uncharacteristically flustered.

She glances around, hesitating at the door before making her way to the counter. Something about the way she’s clutching those papers makes my stomach clench.

“Emma?" Clara says sheepishly. "Could we... could we talk privately?”

My heart sinks, worry crashing over me like cold water. “Um, yeah. Of course. Let’s go to the back.”

I shoot Lucy a glance, and she just mouths,I’ll keep the shop covered.

I hand Mrs. Jenkins her coffee as Clara gives Lucy a grateful nod before following me into the kitchen.

The kitchen smells like burnt sugar and defeat when we step inside.

I glance at the tray of cupcakes I’d baked thrown together in a Logan-induced haze this morning. They're all charred on the edges, frosting melted. A complete mess.

I had this grand idea of baking something special to celebrate the Fire Department festival’s success.

Instead, I’ve created what lo0k like burnt black hockey pucks with sprinkles.

I shove the tray to the back of the counter, hoping Clara of all people won't notice.

She follows me in, her usual composed presence just a bit off. I motion to the little round table by the window, offering her a seat as she holds the papers close to her chest.

Clara takes it, exhaling like she’s been holding her breath for hours.

I sit opposite her, my hands unconsciously wiping flour dust from the counter. “Clara, are you okay? You look... flustered.”

She gives me a weak smile. “That obvious, huh?”

I nod, not trusting my voice to say more without pressing. Clara’s always been the picture of calm and control, the one who knows how to smooth things over with a smile and a freshly baked lemon tart.

Seeing her this frazzled makes my heart pinch with worry.

She opens her mouth and takes a deep breath. “Emma... I wanted to tell you this before anyone else found out. I just... I didn’t know how.”