Page 9 of A Dash of You

He moved on from the jeans he wore last night and sports a pair of sweatpants and a tighter T-shirt. He looks relaxed and comfortable. And good.

“We all got places to be, honey!” the same angry man in line yells again.

A low grumble comes from Logan as he presses a button on the machine.

“I am not letting you pay for my groceries,” I quickly tell him. He already towed my car and changed my tire for me. For free. He would not be paying for my food, too.

As I drown in self-pity, he must have wrapped up the transaction because the clerk now smiles at me, bidding me to have a good day while passing me my receipt.

I make a slight turn, brushing against Logan’s solid frame. Then I sigh. “Thank you,again.”

He casually nods as the clerk rings up his stuff. I eye the moving belt filled with meat, spinach, and fruit. No wonder this man is built so well. He eats like Popeye. He isn’t bulky or overly large, but he takes care of himself. Clearly. And his muscles look crafted naturally from heavy lifting. Of what? I don’t know. Houses maybe.

Where Jason is handsome, Logan is rugged. Sexy. Smoldering. And I am staring at him like a weirdo.

I also need to pay this guy back before he thinks I’m a total ditz who got nowhere in life.

I escape as fast as I can, setting the bags down on the passenger seat of my car. The thought of being here when he came outside is mortifying. With humiliation still fresh, I can’t face him. Not right now.

Three

The courage to walk next door to Logan’s half of the duplex is unimaginable. He hasn’t been home yet. Not when I got back from the market and not when I finished shopping for replacement clothes.

But just now the sound of a deep, vibrating engine grabs my attention. It’s not his work truck, but his everyday truck pulling in the driveway.

I can be quite observant from this kitchen window given the opportunity.

With the brownies cut into small squares, I plate them nicely inside a container I found in one of Lana’s cabinets. I pause in the small mirror, checking myself over. There’s no specific reason to avoid looking like death, but I am glad I took a quick peek because the smeared chocolate and flour on my cheek would have added to the list of embarrassing moments. Not like it mattered. I am full of them. So, what’s one more?

The warmth from the fresh brownies coats my hands as I stand in front of Logan’s front door. I think I knocked. To be sure, I knock again and when there’s some rustling on the other side, it suddenly swings open. My heart leaps and I’m left staring at my shirtless neighbor.

Logan is bare chested—naked from the waist up and my jaw has never been so close to the ground. My stomach does a fast flutter, while I involuntarily trace my gaze from his chest to his rippled stomach muscles. The natural looking toned ridges are enough to cause anyone’s mouth to water. And his tattoos swirling around his biceps creep to his powerful front.

After realizing I’m gawking, I snap my attention to his face. His beautifully handsome face. His eyebrows crinkle, like he’s trying to make sense of the bizarre and random situation. Well, great, he probably thinks I’m his stalker.

“You.” It sounds more of a question than anything when he says it.

I let out an awkward laugh. “Yes. Me. Hi. My name’s Sora. We've never properly introduced ourselves. I know this looks strange, but I swear I’m not a stalker. Funny story, really.” I pause only to breathe. “I’m Lana’s long lost best friend who happens to be staying with her. Small world, right?” I raise my head more to study him.

The quick glance he casts over my shoulder is a possible indication he’s figuring it out himself. He had to have noticed my car, right? Or maybe he just flat out doesn’t care.

His gaze bounces back to me and continues to stare with an odd expression, but when he leans his body slightly on the doorframe, my mouth falls open. His arms, now crossed over his chest, appear bigger than before.

Okay. Wipe your mouth.

“I wanted to thank you properly.Again.” I keep saying the word again way too much to him.

Why does his stare make me so vulnerable? His eyes inquire me with a softness yet curiosity. My weird shyness would flabbergast him if he knew what I've done as a side career. If you could call it that. But he’s either unfazed at my randomness or terrified.

Both are valid.

Okay. I’ll try again. “Brownies. I made you my special brownies. Since I owe you for last night and earlier today. Not that it makes up for all your generosity.” I grab the money from my pocket and hold it up, waiting for him to take it. “Here. This is just for the groceries for now, since you’ve never specified theamount for my car. Thank you.Again.Even though I already told you.” I breathe realizing I might pass out. Or die. Not entirely sure which one.

“Special brownies?” One of his dark brows arch, which is stupidly sexy.

Huh?Ohhhh. Special brownies.“God. When I said special, I didn’t mean that kind.” I want to cry. “Sorry, I should have clarified. I like to bake. And well, these are my favorite, and I like to add my own tasty ingredients to them. There’s no pot in them, I swear.” I slowly close my eyes, wishing I could warp on out of here. I let out a deep sigh. “This is not how I pictured the conversation going,” I tell him, feeling my shoulders sag in defeat.

There’s a small twitch at the corner of his mouth, which helps me relax.

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