Page 11

Lorelai

Lori came out of the elevator at the end of the day a hell of a lot slower than she’d left. Her backpack felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, her brain was fuzzy from the lack of sleep, and . . .

Logan had texted her another picture.

She was scared to open it.

Snorting, she knew she was less scared to see the picture and more frightened that if she looked at it and liked it then she’d suddenly find herself next door, sampling the goods she’d seen in that first picture, and thus, ending her very long celibacy streak.

Not that she was opposed to ending it.

Just the reason she hadn’t was because normally she was extremely picky.

Who was she kidding?

A man who looked like Logan? No red-blooded, straight, single female was going to turn him down, photo faux pas or not.

Still, she’d had a day. Heather had been understanding, albeit not pleased to be kept waiting, and throughout their meeting Lori had felt like a misbehaving child in the principal’s office.

Thankfully, the program she’d been working on had demonstrated beautifully, with absolutely no hitches on her part.

The rest of the day hadn’t gone smoothly though.

She’d spilled coffee on herself, accidentally and permanently deleted several important lines of code for a different project, whose deadline was rapidly approaching.

At which point, she’d christened everyone within earshot with her favorite set of curse words.

Unprofessional, yes, but uncommon? No. Unfortunately for Lori, Heather O’Keith’s nephew, Hunter, had been visiting the office.

He’d heard her then had joyfully repeated the slew of f-words the entire way down the hall, much to his mother, Abby’s, displeasure.

Pissing off all the O’Keiths today.

Way to go, her.

She reached the front door of her condo and wrestled her key into the lock. The damn thing always stuck, and then add in the heavy wood and her oversized backpack, and it was a struggle to get into her place on a good day.

Today, with her fuzzy brain, it was not her finest moment.

And it got worse.

“Here,” Logan said, “Let me help you.”

One arm reached down to snag the keys from her hand, and suddenly she was ensconced in yummy, spicy male.

Come on, universe. Throw me a bone here.

It did, her brain reminded her. Last night.

She snorted as Logan easily twisted the key in the lock—big hands—and then effortlessly pushed open her door, holding it wide so she could slip inside.

“Thanks,” she said, dropping her bag on the floor then leaning back against the heavy wooden panel.

“No problem.” He let go and turned to leave. Randomly, she noticed he had a jacket on. Was he going out to another bar to find another beautiful Hannah who rattled his brains enough to send her naked pictures?

Lori bit her lip, indecision warring within her before she just decided to go with her gut.

“Oh, hey, Logan?” she asked, not wanting him to leave even though she didn’t exactly understand the reason why. “How did you end up in Brandon’s condo?”

Logan grinned. “Brandon’s my brother. When he got the contract to work in Germany, he threw me a solid and let me stay since I’ve never been to San Francisco.”

Two thoughts went through her mind.

First, how in God’s green earth were Logan and Brandon related?

Second, he was Brandon’s brother?

Okay, so really, they were just one looping thought, but still.

How was that possible?

Not that Brandon wasn’t attractive. He was. But he was also five-seven, maybe a hundred and fifty pounds on a good day, had white-blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and—

“Are you the milkman’s baby?” Lori blurted.

Then immediately gasped and threw her hands over her mouth.

Logan grinned. “Nope. Full related by blood.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and the apology was muffled by her fingers, so she peeled them back and tried again. “I’m sorry. That was exceptionally rude.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard it,” he said, leaning back against the door frame and pulling out his cell.

“And it won’t be the last. If I didn’t know my mom as well as I do, I would definitely think I was adopted or hatched out of an egg or something.

See?” He held up the phone and instinctively, she jerked back.

He dropped his hand, smile chagrined. “I deserved that.”

Lori shook her head. “No, sorry. That was my fault.”

“Want to see my family?”

“Are you all clothed?” she asked tentatively.

He glared.

“Okay,” she said. “They’re clothed. Why don’t you come in for a second? My feet are killing me.”

Logan glanced at her shoes. “Um . . .”

Her fancy sneakers. She shrugged, tone a little defensive. “They’re my special tennies, and not broken in.”

One brow came up.

She got irritated and let go of the door. “This, sir, is a judgment-free zone.” Lori spun and started down the hall of her condo.

The day had been a day, and so now she was going to put on her pajamas, order a pizza, and watch a movie. Her cell would be on Do Not Disturb and she was going to get a full night’s sleep so tomorrow wouldn’t be as life-y as today.

There.

Good plan.

Done.

The door closed as she was shoving her fancy sneakers into the closet in her hallway.

“I hope the offer to come in is still good,” he said from a few feet behind her.

She sniffed, brushed by him and hefted her backpack, taking it to the kitchen counter and going through her usual post-work process of plugging in her laptop, unloading the snacks she’d hoarded home from the office, and then extracting her cell.

“Do you like pepperoni?” she asked.

Logan’s face warmed. “Yup.”

“Good,” she muttered and spent the next half minute putting in an order for pizza before setting her phone on the counter. “Drink?”

He nodded. “Sure, thanks.”

She walked to the fridge and handed him a beer. “I’m putting on my pajamas and this is not an opportunity for you to get a real-time view of anything that I might sext.”

There. Told off.

“Lori?”

She paused in the doorway to her bedroom. “Hmm?”

“Did you want a drink?” he asked.

Oh. That was nice. She wrinkled her nose, not wanting nice, wanting to hold on to her irritation, however unreasonable it was.

And let it be stated for the record, that she knew it was incredibly unreasonable to be annoyed because someone had misjudged her fancy sneakers.

It was just . . . the day had been a day.

“I have wine back at my place, if you prefer that.”

Ugh. Fine. That was nice as well as sweet.

She sighed, let go of her irritation. “I’d love a beer. I promise I’ll be more human by the time I put my pajamas on. It’s just been a . . .”

“Day?” he finished when she trailed off.

Her lips twitched. “Yup. That .”

“Okay, well, I’ll attempt to make your day better by opening you a beer.” He paused, head cocking to the side. “I can also leave, if that’s better for you.”

More nice. More wrinkling of her nose.

“No,” she said. “I’d like for you to stay. Brandon and I used to hang out a lot. I’ve missed that.” Lori pushed into her bedroom. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Closing and locking the door behind her, she headed to her closet. The very day-y day was going to get better.

She knew it.