Page 4 of A Summer Mismatch
She peered through her half-closed eyes at herself. Yikes. It was even worse now. Her mascara and eyeliner from that morning streaked black down her face, mixing with the blood-red of the lipstick. She smiled in a villainous way, which made her genuinely smile and roll her eyes at herself. There was nothing to be done for it but to go out, get in her kidnapper van, and hope to never see any of these people again.
She left the restroom and walked as fast as she could to the exit.I probably look like I’m stealing something. She pushed the door open, took a step outside, and face-planted right into the muscular, white-shirted chest of the best-smelling man Julia had ever been close to. His phone clattered to the ground.
He took her by the arms, and she pulled back, cringing and apology-ready for the mess she’d made of his shirt, when she was caught by the sight of his face. His gorgeous, chiseled, breathtaking face—even better-looking than he smelled, which was really saying something, because his cologne had the power to take over the world with one sniff.
His divine eyebrows rose, and he looked at her like she was a combination psychopath/sociopath.
All the paths.
“I’ve only killed three people, but they were fictional.”
Oh, Julia,she pictured Grandma Winnie saying in that combinationI love youand the worriedoh, deartone she reserved for Julia.
Julia closed her eyes and hoped he’d take the opportunity to flee.
CHAPTER TWO
Logan
Well,thiswasunexpected.
Logan stared at the woman in his arms, who he was pretty sure had confessed to murder. Fictional murder.
A smile tugged on the edge of his mouth. The fact that he could even think about smiling today was a miracle, and that thought alone was nearly enough to extinguish the flicker of happiness.
“Now’s your chance to escape,” she whispered, popping one eye open.
Again with the unexpected flare of amusement. “I’m intrigued.”
“And I’m clearly unhinged.” She widened her hazel eyes as if this was something he should already know. He laughed, surprising himself. When was the last time he’d done that?
Realizing he still held her arms, he let her go but she didn’t rush away like he thought she might. Instead she bent down to pick up his phone, and he could read the relief that crossed her face as she studied the unbroken screen and handed it back to him. His dad’s text—saying he wasn’t going to make it to dinner—was still up on the screen.
Their fingers brushed lightly as he took the phone, and he swallowed hard. “Do you need help? You seem to be having a… makeup situation.”
Her hands flew to her cheeks and then to his chest, the contact raising the skin on his arms. She whipped her hands back as if realizing she’d just touched his chest, but her expression was horrified. He looked down to see his white shirt stained with all colors of the rainbow.
“I’ll buy you a new shirt,” she declared. She reached into her purse and searched through her wallet. “I only have a five dollar bill. Your shirt probably cost more than that, right? Do you Venmo?” She paused. “I’ll have to wait until I get paid Friday, because I just spent a hundred and fifteen dollars on that monster“—her thumb pointed to the huge van in the parking lot—”but I’m good for it, I swear. Please tell me this isn’t, like, name-brand or something—”
“Hey.” Logan adopted the gentle, soothing tone of voice he used when approaching Raza’s stall. “No worries. I hate this boring shirt. Plus, I’m heading out to see my niece and nephew. It was just a matter of time before it got dirty.”
“Oh gosh. You’re nice too?” She tipped her head up to the sky as if saying something to the heavens and then looked back at him. “I’m going to go.”
“Wait,” he surprised himself by saying. “You sure you’re okay?”
“What’s the measuring stick forokay?” she replied with a weak laugh.
Logan needed to say goodbye, go inside and grab a treat for Amelia and Leo, and get back on the road for the one-year anniversary dinner of his mom’s death. With his family that was coming completely unraveled at every seam and tearing apart at other, less easily mendable places as well. At least his grandparents were moving to Diamond Cove in a couple of weeks. He hoped they’d help hold everything together, or at least add some light to what had been the hardest, darkest year of his life.
His chest burned, right about where the make-up stained it, and he ran his hand across the mark. It was so much easier to deal with other people’s problems than his own, so he said, “On a scale of best day ever and… assuring a stranger you’ve only killed three people.”
Her mouth twitched, and he realized that beneath all that slasher-movie makeup, she might be really pretty. She had large, sparkling eyes and an infectious, caring smile. “Fictionalpeople. And you forgot the part where I ruined someone else’s shirt. But yes, that’s where I’m at on the scale.”
“And the makeup?” The ever-present heavy weight of sadness that pressed him down so hard into the ground he felt his feet might get stuck there forever, lightened just a bit.
She laughed wryly. “I teach second grade, and this was a part of a last-day-of school game that I made the mistake of trying to wash off in there.” She tipped her head toward the bathroom.
He shook his head in mock disappointment. “Rookie mistake.”
