Page 68
“You really like this old twangy stuff?” I say, making myself known.
Logan slides out from under the car, his back against the down dolly. Smiling, he sits up, grabs the rag half tucked into the front pocket of his jeans, and stands, facing me. He wipes off his dirty hands before tossing the rag over one shoulder. “I love George Jones. You’re telling me you don’t?”
“Hmm, I can’t say I’m a fan.”
“You just need time and assistance to appreciate classic country music.”
My lips tickle behind a grin and I can’t help but laugh. “That must be it.” I hold out my carton to him. “Chunky Monkey?”
His nose wrinkles. “Is that supposed to be ice cream?”
“What do you mean?” I pull it back, offended, clutching the carton to my chest. Chunky Monkey has been my favorite—forever.
He leans closer, peering into the carton of Ben and Jerry’s once more. “They add so much junk that you lose the ice cream. I’d rather just have a plain old chocolate cone.”
“Try it.” I hold a spoonful out to him. “If you don’t like it, I’ll buy you a chocolate cone.”
He takes the spoon, but eyes it warily before consuming the bite. “It’s chocolate and bananas.” He shrugs. “It’s good, but that’s not ice cream.”
“It is too.” I snatch my spoon from his hand and dip back into my favorite frozen comfort food.
Logan sets one hand on his hip. “So, you survived today?”
“Yes, I got to yell at Roy and everything. It was… almost fun.” I shove another bite of chunky goodness into my mouth.
“Roy? Did the kid ask you out again?”
“Oh, no,” I say around my bananas and chocolate. “He’s just annoying me now.” I shake my head, digging through the pint, looking for ice cream. I know it’s in here. “Roy isn’t my problem, Logan. My actual problem is that Rachel has me set up to sub again. Monday and Tuesday.”
He waits for more, as if I’m not finished. Isn’t that enough?
“I’m not a teacher, Logan! Three hours of free time in P.E. is one thing, but I can’t teach English. And I know about as much Spanish as the students do.”
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s talk inside.” He reaches for my hand, but when I try to give it to him, he seizes the Chunky Monkey in my grasp.
“Hey!” I laugh, thankful for the second carton safe inside my freezer.
I slump into one of Logan’s kitchen chairs. He opens a drawer, retrieving another spoon, then walks it over to me. I twirl the utensil between my fingers, rather than dip back into the carton between us. “I don’t know if I can do this, Logan.” I stare down at my hands, shifting the clean spoon from one fist to the other.
“Hey.” He taps my knee and I glance up at him, meeting his eyes. “You just need to relax. It’ll be okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Standing, he pulls me to my feet, his strong arms wrapping me in a hug. When his arms relax, giving me room, I lean back, looking up at him. Then, I shut my eyes, waiting for his lips to meet mine.
It’s time.
Olivia needs to get kissed again.
However, Olivia does not get kissed.
“I know what you need,” he says.
I blink my eyes open. “You do?” Then why aren’t we kissing?
“You need to let go, have a little fun. Do you have plans tonight?”
I almost laugh. I resist the urge to say, Dinner with you, duh. “No. I do not have plans.”
