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W ith Lana already in bed, I take residence in my new favorite spot.

Is this our thing now? Sitting on the balcony an arm’s length away, listening to the crickets and staring at the moon covered lake. Sounds like something out of a romance novel, if you ask me. The hot grump turned quiet man next door shares a thing with me. I like it. It’s comforting.

Thoughts linger about how exciting it feels to have the day off tomorrow, but the guilt drowns me a bit. Shelby and her husband showed me exceptional kindness, so I want to avoid burdening them. This new job is a high I haven’t realized I craved. Doing something you love is a unique experience.

The extra batch of scones, muffins, and caramel coffee cake should be enough, just in case. But with business picking up, they should hire another front worker. I’ll be sure to suggest the idea another time.

The possibilities of what to do on a day off are endless.

There’s relief in my chest knowing I don’t have to attend some stuffy wife lunch.

Lana has mentioned about how she wants to plant flowers up front but not having the time.

I could start there. I needed something to preoccupy my mind.

And what better way than flower therapy?

Without making it noticeable, I peek over at Logan, who has a beer in hand, gawking at his laptop.

He’s stretched out, resting his legs on the wooden table in front of him.

I wonder where he gets his shirts, because they fit him so well.

I can be a tad too observant while straining my eyes trying to hide it.

I strum my fingers on the arm of the chair, thinking about breaking our silence. “Lana said you usually spend your nights at the shop. Not that I don’t mind the company, just curious why you aren’t doing something better than sitting here with me.” Maybe that’s too bold.

He closes his laptop, then turns toward me, and we make eye contact. “Shop’s being painted.”

I nod. “Valid reason. I sure hope your bed is comfier than that God awful couch at your shop.” Great. Not only did I insult the man’s furniture, but I brought up his bed in hopes it's comfortable. What a bizarre thing to say.

Is it comfy though?

The corner of his mouth twitches, growing into the faintest smirk I can admire all day if given the chance. Just once, I’d like to witness his smile because I bet it’s magnificent. Does he have dimples I wonder?

“The couch does suck,” he confirms, letting me relax a little.

“Sorry. I vomit words sometimes. It wasn’t a very thing to say.”

“You disrespected my sofa. I think I can forgive you.”

Logan just made a tiny joke. There may be hope in breaking him out of his shell after all.

I smile, changing the subject because the night truly is beautiful. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to look at the moon like this. It’s nice to finally be at peace.”

Why did I say that?

Though, I’m not fully at ease.

I peer over at Logan, who’s studying me with furrowed brows as if trying to read through my walls. My thick walls.

“I just mean… it’s quiet here. Different.” I’m quick to defend.

The crickets chirp and the tree frogs unlock a childhood memory. Summer evenings at the trailer always included a fire, roasting marshmallows, and cooking hot dogs thanks to Dad. That’s why summer is my favorite. It holds so much meaning. So many memories.

“I’m glad this town can bring you peace, Sora. From whatever it is.”

I turn my attention back to him once more. His soft blue eyes are so kind behind that mask. “Me too.” I smile, pulling my silk robe closer together.

Logan rises, his tall frame creating a shadow from the natural light. “Same time tomorrow?”

My insides squeal in silly excitement. “You bet.”

Huh. Turns out, this is our thing.

After he goes inside, it takes everything in me not to giggle and kick my feet. Hey, who knows, Logan and I might become friends after all. Lord knows I need a couple more of those.