Page 84 of Breathless
Too tired to keep my eyes open, I pull the blankets over me and Rambo, ready to block out theworld.
I’m not sure how long I sleep, but it’s getting dark out when I crack open my eyes at the sound of the front doorclosing.
That’s when I remember I was going to make us dinner so Logan and I could hang out. Dang it. I didn’t mean to sleep solong.
A notification on my phone catches my attention. It’s a lame-ass apology from my brother.Didnt mean for things to get out of controltoday.
Annoyed, I text back.I’m with Logan. Deal with it. Get over yourself and your petty issues and support me for once in your life. I’ve always had your back. Why don’t you havemine?
In the last few months, I’ve learned a few things about myself. I hate gray areas. My brother can either put up or shutup.
I decide to put things in his court.You can make it up to me. Come to dinner tonight atLogan’s.
I probably won’t hear from him for another threemonths.
Wishing I could erase what happened with Silas today, I stumble into the hallway ready to launch myself into Logan’s arms for a much-needed hug when Ifreeze.
A strange woman with long, auburn hair is standing in thekitchen.
Logan never locks the door if someone’s home. It’s one of the things I’ve always loved about country living. How everyone knows everyone out here, reducing the need to lockup.
Obviously, that’s amistake.
She’s wearing a tight tank top, a tight pair of jeans, and red heels, and she’s putting away groceries like she owns theplace.
Before I can ask her what she’s doing in someone else’s house, she starts tospeak.
“Logan, baby, I know you said you were busy this evening, but I couldn’t go one more day without seeing you. I haven’t seen you since Sunday night.” She makes a poutingsound.
Logan’s not home yet, but she obviously doesn’t knowthis.
But the familiar way she talks to my boyfriend makes the hair on the back of my neck standup.
I clear my throat. “Who are you and what are you doing in Logan’shouse?”
Her breath catches, and she spins around with wide eyes. Rambo finally decides tobark.
“Oh, hey, Rambo,” she coos. “How’s mypuppy?”
Who the hell is this woman? I pick up my dog before the psychodoes.
Her eyes narrow as they travel over me. I’m just wearing one of Logan’s T-shirts andunderwear.
I lift my brows. “Again, who areyou?”
She looks so familiar, it’s eerie. Where have I seen herbefore?
Her red lips tilt up. “I’m Logan’s girlfriend, Samantha. And you would be?” She says it with such authority, I take a stepback.
I open my mouth and close it again. At this point, it feels weird to argue thatI’mLogan’sgirlfriend.
“Oh!” She laughs, and the sound sends chills down my arms. “You’re his little friend. The one who’s always tagging along everywhere. Back from Florida for thewedding?”
How does this woman know so much aboutme?
I nod hesitantly, my head spinning in a million different directions. “You look really familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?” She shrugs and flicks her hair over her shoulders, a mannerism I remember. “Wait. I cut your hair once,right?”
Nothing about her expression changes. She completely ignores my question, but I know who she is. At least I think I do. She’s the woman who pitched a fit at the salon last winter and got me fired. I didn’t think her name was Samantha, but maybe I’mmisremembering.
