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Gus’s attention had already fallen back to his screen. Backspacing over what he’d just entered, he waved Logan forward with a free hand. “Sure. Come on in.”

Logan took two steps inside and sank into the folding metal chair opposite Gus.

“I can’t work with her,” he blurted. “Please don’t schedule me to work with her again.”

He gritted his teeth, deriding himself for saying that. For the past hour, he’d been practicing a completely different line.

I quit.

There, how hard was that to say?

Gus stopped typing, his fingers freezing over the keyboard, and looked up. “You can’t work with who?”

Logan’s mouth moved as his face flamed. But he couldn’t say her name. Every time he said her name, he felt like he was going up in flames, and he wasn’t entirely certain if they were good flames or bad flames.

“The…the new girl,” he croaked.

Gus blinked. “Paige?”

Wow, even hearing her name affected him. Ignoring the prickling heat just under his skin, Logan nodded.

Steepling his hands, Gus cocked his head with a puzzled squint. “Why not? Didn’t she do a good enough job her first night?”

Logan paused. For a brief, guilty second, he considered lying. He could say no. It’d be so easy. Gus would believe him. And he’d never have to worry about working with her again. He’d never have to feel any of those things he felt whenever he got close to her. No guilt, no shame, no panic, no fear, no desire.

The last thought made his insides seize. He needed to cut that kind of thinking out right now. Just because a girl was pretty, and had a smile—for other people, certainly not for him—like an angel’s, and a voice that caressed his ear with a carnal awareness, and beautiful glossy hair he wanted to sink his hands into every time he saw her, and—

Okay, okay. None of that should induce him to feel interest or desire.

In a normal world, yes, but none of this was normal. With her, he should feel…well, probably nothing.

“Logan?” Gus said, a strange frown on his face, reminding Logan he’d been spacing out big time.

Clearing his throat, Logan ducked his face. “Yes,” he admitted. “Yes, she did a fine job.” And if she were anyone else, he’d probably be begging to work with her every shift instead begging the opposite. She hadn’t passed the buck on any of the workload—even though it had been her first night—and she’d dealt with the customers surprising well, plus she caught on fast and hadn’t messed up one order. Frankly, she’d been remarkable.

“I just can’t work with her,” he mumbled to his lap.

With an impatient sigh, Gus growled, “Does this have anything to do with that family feud you two are having?”

Logan jerked his face up, his eyes burning, and he stared at his boss hard.

“I killed her brother.” The words slopped from his mouth like spilled acid, fast and deadly.

Gus physically lurched back in his chair. “Excuse me?”

Logan’s throat was so dry it hurt to breathe. This was the first time he’d told anyone in this town what he’d done. At home, everyone had known, so he wondered if this was the first time he’d ever actually uttered the words aloud.

Bowing his head, he squeezed his eyes closed. “We were in high school. Rival sports teams. We got into a fistfight, and he hit his head.” When he built the courage to look up, Logan found Gus’s jaw had gone slack and his eyes were open wide.

“It was an accident,” Logan added. “I didn’t even go to jail. But he’s still dead, and she’s still his sister. We absolutely cannot work the same shift together. She hates me. Please, Gus.”

Gus swallowed, then wiped a hand over his face and blew out a breath. “Yeah,” he said looking dazed. “No, yeah, you’re right. You two definitely shouldn’t work the same shift.” After filling the air with a fluid curse, he shook his head as if trying to clear it. “Wow, this was not what I was expecting to hear. Why didn’t I know any of this before?”

A defensive streak in Logan made him knot his jaw. “I’m not an ex-convict. I didn’t have to report it to you.”

When his boss narrowed his eyes, Logan’s muscles tensed. He braced himself for the inevitable. He was about to be fired. It should be okay; he’d come into this room to quit anyway. But the thought of losing his position terrified him. What if his next place of employment demanded a reference? The only person he could name as a source was Gus, and Gus would definitely tell them what a murderer he was.

If he couldn’t find another job, what would he do then? How would he—