Page 121 of The Fall Classic

“Wow,” he whispers when we part.

His “wow” makes my heart flutter. The idea that this could mean even half as much to him as it means to me—it’s too much to believe. And here I am, believing it.

“I said you could have a kiss when you came back,” I say.

He chuckles, resting his forehead on mine. “What do you think I came back for?”

“I also told you not to throw games,” I say, poking his stomach. His abs, to be precise.

He puts his hands on my hips, swaying me like we’re dancing. “I didn’t,” he says, staring at my lips in a way that makes me flush from head to toe. “But it’s been forever and I couldn’t wait to see you.”

“More like ten days,” I say, my eyes roving over his face.

“Exactly. Ten forevers. There are limits to what a guy can handle.”

I laugh and bite my bottom lip. “You are making this really hard.”

“What?”

I stare at his mouth the way he was staring at mine, and suddenly I can’t remember what we’re talking about or why we’re doing anything other than what we should be doing.

“What am I making hard?” Logan repeats.

“I don’t mean this to sound nasty,” I say, my hands resting on his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair, “but could you shut up and kiss me again?”

He laughs and pulls me into the booth and onto his lap. I settle my arms back around his neck and he puts one hand on my waist and the other on my knee.

“I really like it when you’re sassy,” he says, his bottom lip grazing mine. And then he’s kissing me again, one hand cradling the back of my head like he’s got all the time in the world and plans to use every second of it. I’ve lost track of how long it’s been—long enough that my lips feel swollen, long enough that I’ve forgotten anyone else is in this shop.

Then there’s the sound of cups being placed heavily at our table, and we break apart and look up.

“Oh, good,” Alma says, standing over us with a smirk and two drinks. “He found you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Logan

Georgie is working at Meant to Bean today while Olivia and another employee work the truck. I tried to start scraping Georgie’s outside doorframe upstairs, but when she heard me working, she ran upstairs and stopped me.

“You have an arm injury! You can’t be doing odd jobs for me.”

“I can and will,” I said, holding the scraper. I’d spent an hour watching tutorials before I got there so I’d know exactly what to do.

“You will not,” she said, pulling the scraper from my hand and picking up my brand-new sander. “End of story.” She started walking down the stairs with them, leaving me to follow.

“Sassy Georgie,” I grumbled.

“It’s Nasty Georgie, thank you very much.”

When we got down the stairs, she set down my tools and leaned up to kiss me, her lips warm and inviting. “You can read at the booth, if you need something to do.”

“If you twist my arm,” I teased, putting my hands on her waist.

“No arm twisting will be done. No straining or lifting or anything. Got it?”

“I may need some convincing.”

She laughed and put her arms around my neck, and she convinced me.