Page 15 of The Library of Second Chances
“What can I say? I like it here.” Plus she’d wanted to stay close to home because she didn’t want to leave her dad alone for too long and she liked being able to go see him on weekends when she could.
“I like a woman who knows what she likes,” he said, his green eyes locked on hers.
Was he flirting with her? His gaze was so intense, she worried he might actually be able to read her mind. She tried to telepath to him how much she wanted him to go away and leave her and her town alone, but if he got the message he didn’t react.
Lucy stuffed her hands inside the pockets of her floral maxi dress, ready to be done with this conversation. “Well, I also like my island the way it is. Does that mean you’ll leave it alone?” A woman could dream.
“I do have to earn my paycheck,” he said, laughing.
“Which means you’re just here to tell us how everything we’ve been doing is wrong and that there’s a better way.”
“Well, that’s not exactly how I’d put it.”
“Really?” She forced herself to look him in the eyes again. “How would you describe what you’re here to do?”
“I’m here to find a compromise. We could work together, you know.”
The way he said it felt like flirting again. No, this was just what someone like him did. He charmed his way into new towns until he got what he wanted, then he was off again to go terrorize another city. She nearly said something about how his good looks and impossibly green eyes weren’t going to change her mind, but thought better of it. He might think she was flirting back.
Lucy remembered one of Annie’s sayings that was a common refrain throughout the South:You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Maybe she’d try a different tack. “So tell me. What would a compromise look like in this situation?”
“How about I tell you over a cup of coffee?” He motioned in the direction of the coffee shop. He was all dimple and green eyes again, the dull shade of his army-green polo making his eyes even brighter, if that was possible. His chiseled jawline softened when he smiled.
Lucy hesitated. She had to keep her wits about her. It would be too easy to let Logan’s charm convince her of something that wasn’t true, like those magicians who draw your attention in one direction to distract you from what they’re doing in the other.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.That wasn’t one of Annie’s sayings. She trusted everyone until they gave her a reason not to, but Lucy had learned the hard way what it was like when she trusted too much. No, it was important to watch people for clues. Then you could be prepared when they blindsided you. She needed to figure out what kind of plans Logan was already considering.
“On one condition. We take our coffee down by the water. It’s too beautiful to sit inside.” Plus, the fresh air might dilute his intoxicating scent that made her want to lean in closer as he spoke.
“Deal.” Logan reached out his hand to shake on it.
When Lucy reluctantly slipped her hand into his, she felt the tingle all the way up her arm and across her chest. His hand was strong, but soft. She let him hold hers for a beat longer than she should have, and when she pulled away and took a step back to put some distance between them, she nearly tripped on a portion of the sidewalk that was being uprooted by a nearby oak tree. Logan grabbed her arm, saving her from a fall. She could still feel the warmth of his hand even after he’d taken it away.
“Let me guess. That’s another great example of something that’s unsafe here and needs to be removed.” Lucy motioned toward the sidewalk as she started walking toward the coffee shop two blocks south.
“It does present a tripping hazard, but it’s an easy fix. They just need to cut out a little of the concrete to enlarge the pit around the tree. It would make the sidewalk a little narrower, but it’s not like anyone’s going to take out a live oak.”
Lucy nodded, surprised by his answer, but she didn’t want him to know that.
“My minor was in historic preservation.” He pointed toward a marker on the building they were passing. “That’s why I was reading the plaque the other day. It’s also why I was interested in this job, because it doesn’t involve the demolition of anything historic.”
Lucy wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She definitely hadn’t pegged Logan as a preservationist. So far, he’d seemed like everyone else the town had brought in on the waterfront project, someone who just wanted to throw up a new development that boosted the bottom line.
“Surprised?” He turned to smile at her, clearly knowing he’d caught her off guard.
“I am. Why historic preservation?”
“Berlin—where I’m from—still has a number of its original buildings. My high school was built in 1918. They moved to a new building after I graduated, but the old high school was restored and turned into affordable housing apartments for our aging population that had moved off their farms. Berlin also happens to have some of the finest Victorian houses in the Midwest, including the one I grew up in. My great-grandfather built it in 1864.”
“Interesting.” Lucy tried to imagine Logan living in a historic home instead of the high-rise she’d previously pictured. Maybe she’d been too quick to judge after all.
“See, I’m not so different from you.” He winked as he opened the door to the coffee shop for her.
Given his clear preference for living in big cities previously and his penchant for progress, she doubted they had anything in common beyond historic architecture. Plenty of people appreciated that; it was part of why tourists loved Heron Isle. Visitors had their choice of historic tours through downtown on foot or by horse-drawn carriage, and tickets sold out nearly every day in the summer months. Lucy loved hearing the clip-clop of the horses as they took people past her store and guides told stories about the people who founded the town.
After they’d grabbed iced coffees to go, they cut through the town square toward the marina.
“These are the original cobblestones.” Lucy pointed down as they walked. “They paved Main Street back in the late seventies but left the cobblestones in the street crossings and here in the square.”
