Page 81 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

I set my phone down and change into sweats. I’m aware my smile feels an awful lot like the ones I’d get when I was crushing on a boy in high school. Or the feeling I’d have in college when a guy I liked asked me out.

Calm down, Olivia. You’re just taking a dog on a walk.

Logan Alexander’s dog.

Of all the things. I’d have never thought walking Logan Alexander’s dog would put a giddy smile on my face.

Once I’ve changed into something much more comfortable—and yes, put on lip gloss and brushed my hair—I walk over to Logan’s apartment and knock.

He opens the door looking relaxed and ruffled. He’s wearing a grey T-shirt and black sweats. His feet are bare. Why is that so sexy?

I look up from Logan’s feet and meet his smirky smile and those eyes that have always had a direct shot to my heart.

Whaaat?

I mean, my … nothing. Logan Alexander doesn’t have a straight shot to my anything.

I look down at Rhett. Logan’s dog’s eyes, bugged out and soft with affection, definitely have a straight shot to my heart.

“Ready?” Logan asks.

“For?” I make the mistake of making eye contact again.

Why is he so gorgeous? It’s superhuman how attractive he is. And in this casually disheveled homebody state, everything is somehow amplified.

“Walking Rhett?” Logan says with a soft smile.

“Yes. Of course. I’m here to walk Rhett. Let’s do it.”

“I’ll get his leash,” Logan says.

Logan slips on a pair of shoes, clips Rhett to his leash and hands it over to me. Rhett trots out the door, straight for the elevators. I follow behind him, and Logan catches up with me as soon as he’s shut his apartment door.

We ride down the elevator in silence. It’s oddly comfortable. Logan still looks casual and relaxed, like he may have even fallen asleep on his couch after work and just woke up to eat dinner. His hair is mussed, his eyes just the slightest bit droopy, making him appear approachable and far more harmless than he does in the light of day.

Logan Alexander is officially the most confusing man I’ve ever met.

He opens the main door, and Rhett darts through it, aiming to the left as if he knows the way.

“He likes to go through the park a few blocks over. If I’m feeling up for it, I oblige him. Otherwise, we use the pocket park next to the building.”

“The one you can see from your side windows.”

“Mm-hmm.”

I wait for the sting of jealousy to pierce through me, the thoughts of how he lives in what should rightfully be my apartment, looking out at my view. It doesn’t come.

“Rhett thinks he’s the guardian of all he surveys,” Logan says as we amble behind Rhett, who is taking advantage of our lack of direction and pulling us toward the large park where Logan caused a pileup on that run a while back.

“What does he do?” I ask.

“He watches that park like a hawk, barking when other dogs enter or whimpering if he sees someone he knows or would like to meet. There’s this one poodle I think he’s got a thing for …” Logan looks over at me with a boyish expression I remember from elementary school.

“A poodle, huh, Rhett?”

Rhett looks back at me with a very winsome smile.

“If I were that poodle, I’d be done for.”

---