Page 14 of The Replacement Fiance

"It's no big deal. We're all neighbors," I say as Logan squeezes my hand.

"Ready to go, love?" he asks, looking at me with an intensity I've never seen before. But I also get it. I don't want to stand around making small talk with my ex either.

"Well, it was nice to see you again. Say hello to your family for me." With a wave goodbye, Logan and I walk past Elliot and keep going, neither of us talking until I spot a small bridge and stop.

"That's the spot," I say as I breathe a sigh of relief.

"It wasn't so bad, was it?" Logan asks. "You've moved on."

"I guess I have," I say quietly. "I used to cross this bridge when I was a kid to get to the blackberries that grew just beyond the trees. They still do and you've got to be ready to deal with the thorns but I didn't care. I'd pick as much as I could and eat them right on the spot. Mom and Dad used to find out because I'd come home with purple fingers and lips. And scratches on my fingers."

Standing in the middle of a small bridge, we lean against the railing to watch the creek flowing below us. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, forcing all thoughts of Elliot and Minerva away. I knew this was going to happen and it wasn't as bad as I thought. But if there's one positive thing about running into Elliot again, it's that I don't feel anything for him at all.

"I'm sorry they hurt you, Mariah. I wish there was something I could do," he says quietly.

I smile. "Thanks, but that was two years ago and I think I've recovered from it."

Logan opens his mouth as if he's about to say something but he stops himself. We spend the next ten minutes watching and listening to the water running below us.

"Mariah, we need to talk about something before we go back into the house," Logan says as I turn to face him. "We never discussed just how this pretend thing is going to be, like what's on the table and what isn't. I would assume you don't want us to appear cold in front of them, right? Especially in front of your ex-fiancé and your former friend."

"Definitely not," I reply. "That would make this whole engagement thing useless."

"When you came up with this idea and hired the other guy, what did you have in mind?"

"I never really put a lot of thought into it, to be honest," I stammer. "I was so busy getting everything ready for the New Year's Eve wedding that I figured Cooper would know what to do and how to do it."

Logan's eyes narrow. "Mariah, the guy you hired was an escort. You do know what escorts do, right?"

"I figured if I told him that sex was off the table, then he'd do everything but that?" I don't even know why my answer comes out as a question. I had never thought to look into the details. All I needed was someone to pretend to be my fiancé.

Logan doesn't speak for a few moments. "Alright, let's try this." He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. They're warm and soft, his day-old stubble tickling my skin.

"That's... that's nice," I whisper, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Do I really need tips on how to react to a man kissing the back of my hand? Well, apparently, in Logan's case, I do.

"And this?" His other hand moves up toward my face, his fingers warm against my cheek, his thumb brushing along my chin. It sends tingles running up and down my spine.

"Um... that's nice, too."

"Don't giggle," he murmurs. "I'm serious here. He's still watching us, you know."

My eyes widen. "He is?"

"The woman came back. She went around the vegetable garden."

"The nerve–"

"Close your eyes."

I do what he says and wait. I should know what's coming next. After all, I've lost count of how many times I've secretly wondered how it would feel like to be kissed by Logan Garrison. I feel him move his face closer, his cologne mingling with the faint scent of leather and motor oil, making my stomach clench. The kiss is faint and soft, our lips almost touching, our breaths warming the barest of space between us. It's as if time decided to stand still at that moment, making every millisecond count until our lips touch.

But they don't.

That's because my phone buzzes from inside my jacket and in my panic, I pull away. Why do I feel like I'm doing something I shouldn't be doing? I fumble for my phone and tap on the display, a text message from my manager appearing on the screen.

Merry Christmas, boss! Just wanted to let you know the day's sales numbers have been uploaded and everything is set up for NYE wedding. Will be back at the shop on the 26th.

"Work?" Logan murmurs as I put my phone away, the opportunity for the kiss I never realized I'd been waiting for all these years now gone.

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