Page 39 of Until Tomorrow (Love Doesn’t Cure All: The Ashwood Duet #1)

Logan

I could’ve gotten work done. Could’ve was the keyword.

I didn’t feel like it. Eva was out—hopefully not getting arrested—and I had no desire to spend my time doing work.

How unlike me. Instead, I fussed around on Tumble as my brain toyed with the idea of trying to figure out what I was attracted to.

I swiped through profile after profile, but my heart wasn’t in it.

This approach felt more like science than true dating.

I swiped a few profiles, barely taking them in with each pass. And then Loren’s profile showed up, giving me pause.

CrashSmashBoom

I chuckled at his profile name. Knowing what he did for a living, I had to believe it was related to his company.

I swiped through his pictures, taking time to look at each one.

God, he was attractive. His rugged, carefree thing did something to me.

I was attracted to him. When did that become a thing between all our random conversations?

Before I could think too much of it, I double-tapped on his profile.

And then much to my fucking dismay, three big yellow words popped up for me: it’s a match. Even t he exclamation mark was overly excited.

God damn it.

Fucking hell.

That wasn’t what I expected. My chest tightened anxiously. What was I supposed to do from here?

A text message popped up—not through the app—and was enough to distract me.

LOREN : You know, if you wanted a date, all you had to do was ask.

In a surge of anxiety, I tossed my phone and watched it fly right off my desk. Damn it. I racked my brain for some kind of appropriate response as I fetched it.

But the app has all those great conversation starters. Makes me less awkward.

LOREN : Touché.

LOREN : Let’s see… hi, my name is Loren, I’m a Leo, and I like 24-hour coo kies.

I snorted as I read his message. His casual humor made everything all the easier.

LOREN : Lucky for you, I know an amazing 24-hour cookie café complete with death coffee and the biggest cookies you’ve ever seen.

No one needs 24-hour cookies.

I wasn’t even sure what to make of the death coffee part. Any drink that had the word death in the title had to be bad for you.

LOREN : Everyone needs 24-hour cookies.

LOREN : Let me take you on a date. I will treat you to the most incredible cookies you’ve ever had.

I can’t remember the last time I ate cookies.

LOREN : There are so many things wrong with that sentence.

I guess you’ll have to prove me wrong.

My heart did some kind of wild somersault in my chest. Not bad, though. Excitement maybe? Nervous anticipation? Who knew? I just knew I wanted a stupid cookie date with him.

LOREN : Got time now? I’m officially baby-free and binge-watching Brooklyn-99.

I’ve never seen that.

LOREN : You’re killing me, Smalls.

I understood that reference.

I was tempted to add in the Captain America gif to go with that, but it was probably too cheesy. I hadn’t figured out where my limit was.

LOREN : Of course, you did. The Sandlot was a damn great movie.

Goonies was better, and I’m happy to debate that with you over cookies now.

LOREN : Goonies was better? You’re choosing violence, baby.

Why the hell did the casual pet name make me smile? This entire situation was so foreign to me. Good but foreign.

He sent me the café, and I’d never heard of it, but they did boast twenty-four-hour cookies and coffee guaranteed to keep you up all night. I could only think of just how much caffeine was in it—and how much of a waiting lawsuit that was.

LOREN : Meet you in say… 30 minutes? 45?

I can be there in thirty.

LOREN : Perfect. I’ll be the guy with a stack of cookies—there are at least six you need to try.

That’s too many cookie s.

LOREN : Okay, three things…

LOREN : #1–everyone needs 24-hour cookies.

LOREN : #2–The Sandlot is far superior to Goonies.

LOREN : #3–there’s no such thing as too many cookies. I’m going to prove to you that I’m right about #1 and #3 tonight. We’ll raincheck a movie night later.

Deal. I’ll see you in thirty.

I barely had the text sent before I was shooting another one off to Eva to let her know I was leaving. I didn’t have a clue when I’d be home, but all I could focus on was what the hell I was going to wear to a twenty-four-hour cookie café?

Loren sat there laughing, his head tipped back and the pleasant sound loud on the small café patio. That, coupled with my embarrassment, had me laughing alongside him.

“You went on a date with Chad,” he repeated, practically wheezing. “ Oh, boy. Well, now you’re officially queer.”

“What?” I replied.

“I’m fairly certain Chad has gone out with every man on that app,” he said.

Oh, good God. “I’ve been out with him. Jack only lasted fifteen minutes with him before he just walked the fuck out.

Any of the guys I know on that app have gone out with him.

The running joke is that going out with Chad is a rite of passage. Did he show up in a jersey?”

“And bitched about how his boss acts like he owns the place—”

“ But it’s the best goddamn job in the world!” Loren finished, breaking down laughing once more. He tipped back on two legs of the chair as he worked to regain his composure. “So, welcome to the queer man club.”

“Do we have stickers?” I reached for another cookie. Yeah, he really did buy half a dozen cookies. While I wasn’t a cookie person, these monstrous cookies went down all too easily with our conversation.

“Of course,” he grinned, “they have dicks on them.”

“Dick stickers are exactly what my suits are missing,” I said dryly. I could imagine the riot if I walked into work wearing a dick sticker on my lapel. Elliot would fucking love it. “Nothing says deal negotiations better than dick stickers.”

“I don’t know, if my lawyer walked in wearing a dick sticker, I’d just do whatever he said.”

“That’s a terrible policy. I never did ask how you ended up in construction.” I grabbed another cookie. Shit. Had I eaten six cookies by myself? Loren had already eaten six and drank more coffee than any reasonable person should have at midnight, so at least I didn’t feel bad.

“We broke things growing up,” he replied. “A lot of things. It wasn’t so much that we tried to, but I have three brothers.”

“And then you had to fix it.” I chuckled as he nodded. “I have two brothers, so I know how that goes.”

“Exactly. Dad used to make us fix everything we broke. I learned a lot about house repair, and honestly, I liked it,” he told me.

“And so I kept doing it. My first job was with a friend of the family. He had a construction business. I spent my summers following him around. I like what I do. What about you?”

“I don’t work construction,” I said with a grin. As if to punish me, he swiped my cookie away. “I’m good at what I do.”

“But are you happy with what you do?”

“I thought I was,” I admitted quietly. “Lately, I question it.”

“Questioning a lot of things lately.”

“Feels like a midlife crisis.”

“I always felt that midlife crises were underrated,” Loren said.

I frowned, trying to wrap my head around his words.

“Well, think about it. It’s nothing more than realizing you’re unhappy doing what you’re doing in life.

Do some people go fucking stupid during a mid-life crisis?

Abso-fucking-lutely. My father was one of those people.

But I think the essence of it is kind of pure.

It’s realizing you aren’t happy with your life and that you want to spe nd the second half of your life happy.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be happy. ”

There wasn’t, but I’d never looked at it that way. Who honestly sat around assessing their happiness level in life?

“Might not be a bad time to figure out what makes you happy in life, Logan,” he continued, and I nodded. Maybe it was or maybe it wasn’t, but I didn’t want to spend my time with him reassessing my life choices that led up to this moment.

“I don’t think dates are supposed to turn into therapy sessions,” I told him.

“I can’t help it if I’m fucking wise. I learned a lot from The Sandlot— ”

“It’s just a kids’ baseball movie!” I exclaimed.

“Just a kids’ baseball movie!” he retorted dramatically, making me laugh. “The audacity! It’s the best fucking film of our generation. A childhood masterpiece!”

“It’ll never beat The Goonies. I’ll die on this hill.”

“I’ll convince you.”

“Good luck.” However, I had a feeling this was going to become a staple disagreement between the two of us.

“Movie date it is,” Loren said.

“Movie date it is, but you’ll never change my mind.” I shrugged. Was it a good thing to be planning a second date while still on the first one? I was counting it.

Despite the obscenely early morning hour, I wasn’t ready to go home, and neither was he. We took a walk to his favorite spot. The long walkway ran parallel to the waterfront. It was dark, quiet, and peaceful, even with the city lights glittering in the distance.

The ease with which I took his hand as we walked surprised me, but I liked Loren.

I liked how easygoing he was—it soothed my anxiety.

I liked his sense of humor and how he made me laugh.

I liked talking to him and listening to whatever stories he shared.

It was so much more than that, but I struggled to organize those thoughts.

I just enjoyed him.

“ I’ve come out here for years,” Loren said. Even though he was quiet, it still sounded loud. “It’s my secret spot, so don’t go advertising it.”

“I’ll do my best,” I replied with a small laugh. I ran my thumb over the curve of his for comfort. My heart hammered wildly in my chest. I prepared for cookies and conversations. I hadn’t prepared for an oddly romantic walk in the dark.

When he stopped, I turned to face him. His mouth found mine and caught me off guard. My breath stuck in my throat as I closed my eyes and tried not to overthink it. The internal panic ensued while my mouth barely moved against his. Was I doing this wrong? Was he enjoying it?

What the hell was going on in my head?

“You’re thinking too much, Logan,” Loren murmured against my lips when he pulled back slightly. I let out an awkward laugh.

“That’s my specialty,” I admitted rather pathetically. “I get stuck inside my head.”

The words were painful just to say aloud. How many people got stuck inside their heads while kissing a handsome man? Probably just me.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked, but I shook my head even as he did. “Close your eyes for me, baby.”

Yes, because asking the anxious person to close his eyes in an anxiety-inducing situation worked well. Granted, he didn’t know I had anxiety, so he couldn’t be blamed. And it wasn’t his fault that my brain did whatever the hell it wanted sometimes.

Doing my best not to go down that spiral, I closed my eyes. Loren’s hands framed my face gently. The calluses on his fingers were a stark contrast to the gentleness of his touch. The feel of his fingers brushing over my cheeks was soothing. I sighed, letting go of the breath I held onto.

When his lips finally touched mine again, all the little thoughts in my brain shut down. I tilted my head slightly and leaned into it. His tongue brushed against the seam of my mouth, and I deepened the kiss without hesitation. The taste of chocolate and coffee was almost as consuming as he was.

I felt that kiss in every part of me head-to-toe. The cascade of warmth rolling through me was overwhelming and inviting all at the same time. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him closer, needing more of him. That quiet moan he let out sparked through my body like lightning.

His fingers combed through my hair, and every nerve in my body was alive with his touch. It was so wildly different than kissing Eva. His soft scruff , his muscular body, his height. He had rough edges and was masculine in ways I wasn’t used to. But I liked it.

I liked his body pressed against mine—fuck, if my dick didn’t agree. I hoped to hell he couldn’t feel it because that was the last thing I needed for a first kiss. But every part of me enjoyed his presence in my space. I wanted more of him. I wanted whatever the hell he would give me.

Loren leaned back, and I barely caught a glimpse of a smile in the dark. I could’ve said a dozen different things, but I didn’t. Instead, I kissed him again.