Page 5

T he courage to walk next door to Logan’s half of the duplex is unimaginable. He hasn’t been home yet. Not when I got back from the market and not when I finished shopping for replacement clothes.

But just now the sound of a deep, vibrating engine grabs my attention. It’s not his work truck, but his everyday truck pulling in the driveway.

I can be quite observant from this kitchen window given the opportunity.

With the brownies cut into small squares, I plate them nicely inside a container I found in one of Lana’s cabinets.

I pause in the small mirror, checking myself over.

There’s no specific reason to avoid looking like death, but I am glad I took a quick peek because the smeared chocolate and flour on my cheek would have added to the list of embarrassing moments.

Not like it mattered. I am full of them. So, what’s one more?

The warmth from the fresh brownies coats my hands as I stand in front of Logan’s front door. I think I knocked. To be sure, I knock again and when there’s some rustling on the other side, it suddenly swings open. My heart leaps and I’m left staring at my shirtless neighbor.

Logan is bare chested—naked from the waist up and my jaw has never been so close to the ground.

My stomach does a fast flutter, while I involuntarily trace my gaze from his chest to his rippled stomach muscles.

The natural looking toned ridges are enough to cause anyone’s mouth to water.

And his tattoos swirling around his biceps creep to his powerful front.

After realizing I’m gawking, I snap my attention to his face. His beautifully handsome face. His eyebrows crinkle, like he’s trying to make sense of the bizarre and random situation. Well, great, he probably thinks I’m his stalker.

“You.” It sounds more of a question than anything when he says it.

I let out an awkward laugh. “Yes. Me. Hi. My name’s Sora.

We've never properly introduced ourselves. I know this looks strange, but I swear I’m not a stalker.

Funny story, really.” I pause only to breathe.

“I’m Lana’s long lost best friend who happens to be staying with her.

Small world, right?” I raise my head more to study him.

The quick glance he casts over my shoulder is a possible indication he’s figuring it out himself. He had to have noticed my car, right? Or maybe he just flat out doesn’t care.

His gaze bounces back to me and continues to stare with an odd expression, but when he leans his body slightly on the doorframe, my mouth falls open. His arms, now crossed over his chest, appear bigger than before.

Okay. Wipe your mouth.

“I wanted to thank you properly. Again .” I keep saying the word again way too much to him.

Why does his stare make me so vulnerable? His eyes inquire me with a softness yet curiosity. My weird shyness would flabbergast him if he knew what I've done as a side career. If you could call it that. But he’s either unfazed at my randomness or terrified.

Both are valid.

Okay. I’ll try again. “Brownies. I made you my special brownies. Since I owe you for last night and earlier today. Not that it makes up for all your generosity.” I grab the money from my pocket and hold it up, waiting for him to take it.

“Here. This is just for the groceries for now, since you’ve never specified the amount for my car.

Thank you. Again. Even though I already told you.

” I breathe realizing I might pass out. Or die. Not entirely sure which one.

“Special brownies?” One of his dark brows arch, which is stupidly sexy.

Huh? Ohhhh. Special brownies. “God. When I said special, I didn’t mean that kind.

” I want to cry. “Sorry, I should have clarified. I like to bake. And well, these are my favorite, and I like to add my own tasty ingredients to them. There’s no pot in them, I swear.

” I slowly close my eyes, wishing I could warp on out of here.

I let out a deep sigh. “This is not how I pictured the conversation going,” I tell him, feeling my shoulders sag in defeat.

There’s a small twitch at the corner of his mouth, which helps me relax.

He ignores the money but accepts the container. “Hang on.” He closes the door, and I study my shoes, pretending to be oddly interested in them.

When he comes back, a shirt has replaced the bare chest I was once lucky to have witnessed. It’s not any less of a distraction, though, but it helps. He’s also empty-handed, which means he probably intends on keeping my peace offering.

“I already told you… you don’t owe me for the car.”

“But it’s too much,” I counter. “And you didn’t need to buy my groceries.”

“You were holding up the line.”

He doesn’t need to go and remind me of how some people in town got their first impression of me. All right, if he isn’t going to accept the money, then there’s nothing left to say.

“Yeah, about that. I left my cash on the table. Well, Lana’s cash.” Stop babbling. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It’s nice to properly meet you. Have a great evening.”

My face burns with heat as I spin to descend the stairs and rush over to my side of the duplex.

Don’t look back.

But I do. I take a quick glance just in time to witness him running a hand through his thick hair. Man, he’s got magnificent hair. I wonder how old he is. He looks my age. Maybe a tad older by a couple of years. Of course I’m not interested in him that way, but he sure is nice to look at.

I throw a cutesy wave his way and scurry into Lana’s, where I can finally breathe.

With the closed door, I lean against it, trying to catch air back into my lungs.

Why does this man turn me into a babbling moron?

I’ve never had this type of reaction. Never with Jason and never with anyone else.

The men at Jason’s club did nothing for me.

But I suppose it didn’t help when they were his colleagues.

Handsy, old, and overpaying. Also horny for women who weren’t their wives. Humiliation at best.

It’s getting dark, and with the adrenaline finally wearing off, my body begs for sleep, and I welcome the idea. Sleep now. Search for a job tomorrow.

Once the kitchen is clean, I change and crash on the guest bed Lana made up for me. It feels odd to be in a different bed than the one I’ve slept in for years. To not be surrounded by walls worth over a million dollars.

I mask the emotions for tonight because I am too drained—too tired of having to start over. But I’m happy to have escaped.

I wake to a loud thud. A bang. And I jolt around, trying to remember where I am. But there’s no mansion. No Jason. I’m inside the duplex with Lana. But when the bang goes off again, more aggressive this time, I can’t suppress the terrifying gut-wrenching feeling.

He found me.

My heart hammers against my chest and I spring into action. I’ve created this scenario in my head for months prior to leaving. I just need to stay calm and collect myself for a second.

With practiced breaths, my heart rate slows, and I stealthily slink to the kitchen, having to feel my way using the wall. Because I was so tired and desperate to sleep, I hadn’t turned on any lights beforehand and now I’m trying to hide from a potential burglar in the pitch black.

Once I locate the kitchen drawer, I reach in, trying to find the pepper spray, but end up grabbing a stupid butter knife instead, desperately holding it to my chest.

BANG.

The noise is coming from outside toward the back. I give up searching, not daring to turn on a light and find the sliding door, tugging it open. The duplex sits on a hill, elevated at least ten feet, creating a significant drop from the balcony to the ground.

Still gripping the knife tightly in hand, I ninja jump onto the balcony, thrashing my weapon out in front. But I’m slicing no one. Nothing but air. No more banging. Just the sound of crickets.

I creep an inch forward, stubbing my toe on one of the balcony chairs. The pain instant. “Shit.”

“Were you planning on hurting someone with that?”

A terrifying shriek escapes me. I turn, finding the man with the deep voice. “Jesus Christ. You scared the hell out of me.” I hold my hand to my chest, trying to regain balance.

Only a few feet away is Logan. He’s shirtless again, leaning on the middle railing that separates both sides, and the cut of his triceps show.

If he’s any sort of amused by my antics, he doesn’t show it.

In fact, I can’t read what he’s thinking because his face is blank.

Expressionless. But he’s watching me closely.

I sigh. “For your information, I couldn’t see. This choice of weapon was not planned.”

He’s looking away now, focusing on the ground beneath us.

“What’s that banging? Did it wake you too?” I ask.

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

That makes sense considering his job requires him to be a night owl. I wonder if he’s off tonight. Why is he home? And why did I care?

BANG.

I slam my eyes shut, shuffling my bare feet back until the sliding glass is cold against my back. This is not how I wanted it to go. If he found me, I’d want to be tough. Not a coward hiding.

I turn my cheek, sandwiching it to the glass. When I open my eyes, Logan is watching me, his baby blues boring into my light brown ones. To him, this may seem odd. Like, why am I having a near panic attack clenching a stupid butter knife to my chest?

“Stay here.” His towering frame descends the few wooden steps, and he soon disappears around the corner. I’m suddenly aware of being alone with the chill of the air clasping around me, and my staggering breaths squeezing together.

Hurry! I want to yell.

I want him to come back because even though he’s a little intimidating, being around him is better than being alone right now.

Logan reappears, silently making his way back up to his side of the balcony.

“So. Did you see what it was? Will I need to stab a potential murderer? Death by butter knife.”

A sliver of amusement flashes in his eyes. “Nah. Not tonight. It was just Fred,” he says. Like I should know who that is.

“I’m sorry, but who the hell is Fred?”

“The town raccoon. Though he hangs around here the most. Lana with her sweets.”

I let out a relieved sigh. “Oh thank God.” Then double over. Hands on my knees with my pajama shorts riding up. Ass cheeks on full display. I’m wearing a silk tank top, no bra and sleep shorts. I remember that now.

With a quick move, I straighten, but the damage is already done.

His eyes flare. “Goodnight, Sora.” My name is the last thing he says before vanishing inside.

While standing there trying to collect the last ten minutes, I replay my name from Logan’s lips and how it sounded. I must admit, it has a nice ring to it.