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Once it’s doctored up, I take a sip, hoping the heat will jolt me out of the not-very-innocent daydream I was having about the way Logan’s hand moved in the shower.

6

LOGAN

Yesterday was strange.

I don’t know how to explain it, and I’m still sorting through it all. IthoughtI’d buried those feelings for Ryder for good, but now they’re louder than ever, pressing in from every side, and I have no idea how to quiet them. But I’ll figure it out. I have to, before I say, or do, something I can’t take back.

“What’s the plan for today?” I ask.

Ryder’s face lights up like he’s been waiting for me to ask that. “What do you say we get out of here?”

I glance over at him, already guessing where this is going. We tend to be creatures of habit, so while we have our Friday night ritual, we also do the same thing every Saturday morning when it’s in season and we’re not busy.

“Farmer’s market?”

“Yup,” he says with that familiar spark in his voice. “It’s supposed to be sunny today, so I was thinking we could do our usual. I’ll even buy you a new candle.”

“You want to buy me a new candle? Well, I’m not turning that down,” I say with a grin.

“Just let me brush my teeth and change,” Ryder says casually, brushing past me and heading toward the dresser drawer I cleared out for him a few months ago. He opens the top drawer and pulls out a gray t-shirt.

“You’re really leaning into this whole ‘drawer’ situation,” I say, reaching for my sweatshirt from the hook by the door.

He snorts, tugging the shirt over his head. “Would you rather I keep raiding your closet? ‘Cause I can do that too. Happily.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t still do that anyway.” I don’t mind, though. I kind of love it. It stirs up a possessive feeling in me, knowing he’s walking around inmyclothes. I know I shouldn’t have those thoughts about my best friend, but I’m only human, and if it were up to me, he’d wear them every day.

“Yeah, well, your stuff’s comfortable,” Ryder acknowledges, pulling his shirt down. “You buy the good cotton.”

“Glad I can keep you in luxury. Anything else you need? Slippers? A monogrammed robe?” I deadpan.

“Don’t tempt me. I’d rock the hell out of a monogrammed robe.”

I shake my head at him, knowing he so would.

Twenty minutes later, we’re in Ryder’s car heading toward the market. His phone is connected, playing some chill alternative music I’ve grown to like over the years.

The market is already in full swing by the time we get there, with tents stretched down both sides of the block.

“Let’s see if they have those honey sticks again,” Ryder says, shoving his hands into the pocket of his black hoodie as we start walking through the booths.

“You’re obsessed,” I snicker, falling in step beside him.

“They’re good!” he shoots back with a big smile on his face.

Ryder would spend hundreds of dollars every time we came if I didn’t reel him in. I love his enthusiasm, but there are so many things we don’t need.

The first twenty minutes or so pass in a blur as we browse the booths. We’ve managed to turn the farmer’s market into a whole experience by chatting with all the vendors, sampling their products, and talking about their booth branding.

Once we reach the candle booth I usually buy from, Ryder turns to me with a grin. “How about that new candle?”

“Let’s see what they’ve got,” I say, trying to reel in my rapidly beating heart over such a small gesture.Fuck, this is not good.

There are sampler candles lined up with the lids off, stacked neatly along the display. Ryder picks one up and reads the label out loud, clearly amused.

“‘Cozy Forest.’ Wow. A scent and a vibe.” He gives it a sniff, then scrunches his nose. “Nope. Smells like a car air freshener.”