Page 8 of The Runaway Bride's Vow

He heard the sound of a car outside. He didn’t bother to investigate, because his attention was drawn to the inside of the chapel. The last time he’d been here, it had been overcast. The bright sunshine highlighted nooks and crannies he hadn’t noticed before.

He couldn’t stand around here all day, staring at the place. If he was going to get this project underway, he had to take some more measurements—starting right here in the foyer.

He stepped farther in the chapel, letting the door close behind him. He pulled his measuring tape from his tool belt and bent down. First, he measured the doorway and noted it. The doors looked to be in surprisingly good shape. They just needed sanding and a couple coats of paint.

Once he had those measurements, he turned to the side walls. They looked a little worn. He knelt down to examine the baseboards. There were a lots nicks and gouges. With their intricate design, it would take a lot of time to replace all of them. Perhaps some patching would be a more economical choice.

Just then the door swung open. There was no time for him to move. The door hit him in the back and knocked him forward. His forehead thumped against the wall.

He groaned as he righted himself. He wasn’t sure which hurt more: his back or his head. What was it with this morning? First, the incident at the coffee shop and now someone is whacking him with the door.

“Oh, no,” came a female voice. “I didn’t know you were there.”

Logan had the sense he’d heard the voice before, but he couldn’t place it. And with him still facing the wall, he hadn’t caught a glimpse of her. Then a moment of clarity came to him. It sounded like the woman from the coffee shop. Surely it’s not her.

Not again.

Brooke had been in such a hurry to catch up with the contractor that she’d rushed up the steps and burst through the door, not expecting anyone to be kneeling behind it. She felt awful.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Are you all right?”

The man continued to kneel there. His hand moved to his forehead. So much for making a good impression on the contractor. And the fact they had to work together for the next eight or so weeks meant she had to somehow smooth over this very unfortunate first meeting.

With his back to her, she noticed his thick dark hair was trimmed short. His neck was tanned, as though he spent a lot of time in the sun. Beneath the tight gray T-shirt, he had such broad shoulders they deserved a second glance.

“Do you always go barging through closed doors?” His surly tone drew her from admiring his physique.

Choosing to ignore his question, she said, “Can I help you stand?”

“I’ve got it.”

After he straightened, he turned to her. Their gazes collided, and it felt as though a bolt of shock ricocheted through her. Her heart lodged in her throat. It was the rude man from the coffee shop. What is he doing here? Did he follow me? No. He was here first.

As they continued to stare at each other, she wanted to vocalize her thoughts, but at that moment, her mouth refused to cooperate with her mind.

“It’s you.” His brows drew together into a formidable line.

She noticed how he once more ran his fingers over a red spot on his forehead. As though he noticed her staring at him, he lowered his hand. There was definitely a red spot there. Oh no. Her instinct was to go to him and render aid, but the scowl on his face warned her off.

“What are you doing here?” His voice rumbled with agitation. “Did you follow me?”

The angry gleam in his eyes startled her out of her shock. “What?” How dare he? “Of course I didn’t.”

“Isn’t it enough that you dumped coffee all over me? Now you have to slam a door into my back.”

She noticed how he’d mentioned his back but said nothing about his head. She wondered why that was, but when her gaze met his perpetual frown, she had no intention of asking him.

He was making it hard to feel bad for him when he was so unfriendly. “I’ve apologized. What else do you want from me?”

“Leave.” His tone was resolute. He turned his back to her and moved toward one of the benches.

Talk about a grumpy gus. He made the Grinch look downright hospitable. She couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in his life to make him so miserable. And then she recalled their coffee mishap. She refused to accept all of the blame for that accident. He’d let go of the cup at the same time as she did.

She had news for him. She wasn’t going anywhere. And she wasn’t going to speak to his back.

When he glanced back at her, she didn’t think it was possible, but the frown lines on his face deepened. “Why are you still here?”

It pained her to admit it, but she knew there was no avoiding it. “I’m assuming you’re Logan.”

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