Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Danielle

I’m fairly sure the reason the universe never granted me magical powers is because it knew I’d use them in nefarious ways. Like that speeding ticket I got a few weeks ago? I’d make the cop think he was giving me a ticket when all he was handing me was a blank sheet of paper. The shoes I’ve been eyeing but can’t afford would ring up at half the price and no one would be none the wiser.

And this guy sitting in front of me?

This lying, cheating, slimy bastard?

I’d turn him into a rat. No…that’s an insult to rodents everywhere. They’re kind of cute with their little whiskers and the way they hold things in their tiny hands when they eat.

Maybe I’d turn him into a worm. Oh—no, I’ve got a better idea. A stink bug that just happens to be flying over the freeway when a semi-truck barrels down the road and smacks right into him, smearing him all over the—well, now I know why I don’t have cool powers.

I turn away from the table, fake smile disappearing from my face the moment my back is turned. James Hills has a wife. A wife who just found out she’s expecting a baby boy. I know because she told me when I saw her at the farmer’s market just a few days ago.

“Getting comfy over there?” Logan asks, eyes going to Tommy, who’s sitting at the bar, and then back to me.

“What?”

“You two seemed friendly.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I guess? I talk to all my customers. I get better tips that way.”

“Yeah.” He raises his eyebrows. “You sure it’s just for tips?”

Logan gets moody like this every now and then, and usually I dismiss it until he’s back to normal. But today I feel like pushing.

“Yeah, for tips. I’m not exactly making bank as a bartender, and I’m trying to build my savings.” I put my hand on my hip and take a deep breath, making my breasts rise and fall under my dress. “But if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“Jealous,” he snorts. “Jealous of Tommy Oaken. That guy’s a loser.”

“Then you won’t care if I go on a date with him tomorrow night?”

“You’re working tomorrow night.”

“Then the next day.”  I keep my face neutral, reading Logan’s expression. I don’t have a date with Tommy, nor do I want one. But he did ask me out, which is more than I can say for Logan. Maybe I should go out with Tommy just to get back out there in the dating game.

“Fine,” Logan huffs. “At least you’d be going out with someone.”

He gathers a few empty glasses and takes them back into the kitchen to put them in the sink.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, following behind him.

“It means you’ve been swearing up and down since the moment you got here that you hate men and don’t want to date anyone.”

“I never said I hate men. I think. I mean, I might have. Because guys are jerks.”

“We’re not all jerks,” he spits, eyes clouding with anger. “By all means, go out with Tommy fucking Oaken. But if you want to date a guy who’s not a jerk, then don’t go out with that fucker.” Logan goes into the walk-in fridge, slamming the door shut behind him. Balling my fingers into fists, I march right in after him.

“Why do you care who I go out with?”

“Seriously?” He puts the cut of hamburger meat he was holding back onto the shelf.

“Yeah.” I let out a breath and feel a chill creep down my back already.

Logan’s eyes drill into mine with a fire I’ve never seen before. It cuts right through me, chilling me more than the cold air billowing around us. He strides forward, and I step back, pinning myself against the closed door of the fridge. Cold metal kisses my skin, and goosebumps break out along my flesh.

Logan doesn’t stop until his hips are right up against mine. My lips part and I inhale, but I still get no air. His face is inches from mine, and I can’t take my eyes off his lips.

“What are we?” he asks.

I slowly shake my head. “We’re uh, friends?”

“That’s all you want?”

“Yeah. You’re my best friend, Logan. What’s wrong with that?” I hate the words that are coming out of my mouth, but admitting I want more, that I could easily fall in love with him, terrifies me.

“Maybe I am stupid,” he starts, tipping his head down. “Or maybe I’ve been too fucking nice.” He brings one arm up, bicep flexing, and pushes my hair back over my shoulder.

“What are you talking about?” My voice comes out thin, and my breath clouds around us.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. And I don’t want to do this anymore.”

My eyes flutter closed, and I inhale again, trying to fill my lungs with oxygen because suddenly I can’t remember how to breathe. A warmth spreads through me, starting in my stomach and rushing over every inch of me. It settles between my legs, and the longing I’ve felt for Logan Dawson, the feelings I’ve ignored and pushed away, threaten to break down the gates.

“Then don’t,” I whisper.

Just when I think Logan is going to kiss me, when I can let my body finally cave into what I’ve been craving since the moment I laid eyes on Logan, he pushes off the door and goes back to the shelf.

Blinking, I bring my arms up and wrap them around myself, unable to stop shivering now. With an armload of beer I know we don’t need to put in the mini fridge at the bar, Logan storms toward the door. I move out of the way, still not sure exactly what happened.

Or what didn’t.

And I can’t help the sinking feeling that I just fucked up any sort of chance I had with Logan.

*

“Can you believe that guy?” I narrow my eyes, watching James reach across the table and take the pretty, young blonde’s hand.

“What’s wrong with him?” Owen asks, looking up from the bar. Logan has kept himself busy doing anything he can that involves avoiding me.

“He has a wife. And that is not her.”

“What an ass.”

“Shouldn’t we do something?”

Owen cocks an eyebrow. “What do you expect to do? We’re not the moral police.”

“Yeah, but look at him. His wife is pregnant, and now his lips are on that lady’s hand. Maybe she doesn’t know he’s married.”

“He’s not wearing his wedding ring. She probably doesn’t.”

“Isn’t that even more of a reason to…I don’t know…kick him out?”

“He’s ordered three drinks with top shelf liquor already. I’m not kicking him out.”

“Fine.” I put my little pad of paper and pencil into my apron pocket. “I’ll do it.”

“Danielle,” Owen starts and reaches for my wrist. His fingers close around it, and while his hand is identical to Logan’s, his touch does nothing to me. It’s not electric. Doesn’t send a shiver down my spine or make a million butterflies take flight in my stomach. “We can’t kick him out for being a douchebag.”

“Well, you should.”

He lets go of my wrist and offers a sympathetic smile. Logan is the only one who knows the full details of why I left home, but Owen knows the Cliff’s Notes version.

“I shouldn’t encourage you,” he grumbles. “But wait until he’s paid. Then go ask how his wife is doing.”

A smile takes over my face. “You really are the evil twin.”

Owen gives me an over-the-top wink. “I wear that title proudly.” He shifts his gaze to Logan, and while I know they haven’t had time to talk yet today, I’m sure he’s aware something is up with him. It’s hard for me to grasp the whole “it’s a twin thing” when I have a shitty relationship with my sister, but those two are in sync without even trying.

I don’t want things to be weird between Logan and Owen. A sour feeling sinks heavily in my stomach. It’s one I’m all too familiar with. It starts as a slight stomach ache and ends with anxiety wrapping around me like an itchy sweater that clings to me, suffocating me, making my fingers tremble and my mind race.

The only way I know how to shut it off is with a shot of something dark and strong. Not a healthy coping mechanism, I know. It’s been a while since I felt the all-consuming anxiety, and it was one of the things I swore I’d avoid when moving to Eastwood.

My plan was to work hard, keep my head down, legs shut, and figure my shit out so I could get back on track.

Trouble is, I have no idea where that track leads or if I even want to get back on it.

I wait on a few more tables, running around like crazy to make drinks, take orders to the kitchen, and bring out food. We’re definitely going to have to hire people, which is a good problem to have.

Keeping an eye on Mr. Infidelity, I take out another tray of food and then stop by James to collect his tab. He paid in cash and told me to keep the change.

Score.

“How’s the pregnancy treating your wife?” I ask, folding the bills and slipping them into my apron pocket. “She was absolutely glowing when I saw her last week.” I flash a pretty smile and step back. Owen leans over the bar, entertained as he watches everything play out.

The pretty blonde who looks like she could easily be a Daisy or a Candy, jerks her hand out of James’s grasp.

“You’re married?”

Yep, poor girl didn’t know.

“I…I…it’s not like that,” James stammers, but it’s too late. Blondie gets up, throws her drink in his face and storms out of the bar. James sits there, stunned, as diet Coke rolls down his chin. Then he looks around, realizes everyone is looking at him, and hurries out of the bar, calling after the blonde.

Her name is Candy.

Feeling like I did my part to save at least one person from a cheating asshat, I grab my purse, the salad I packed, and head outside to take my break. It’s hot again today, and I love the heat. I exit through the back of the bar and sit on the little stoop, stretching my legs out in the sun.

I’m halfway through my salad when gravel crunches under someone’s feet. I look up, expecting to see Dean, Archer, or even Quinn, since they usually park around back and come in through this door. But instead of a friendly face, I’m greeted with a scowl.

“You fucking whore,” James sneers as he stumbles toward me. Right, he’s had several strong drinks already.

“You’re the whore,” I retort, putting the lid back on my salad before I set it down. Priorities, right?

“She called my wife,” he slurs.

“Not my problem.” I loop my arm through my purse strap and stand, reaching back for the door. My heart speeds up, and I’m well aware how dangerous a situation I’m in right now. James is drunk, and now he’s desperate and angry.

I need to punch in a code to get back into the bar, and that requires me turning away from James so I can look at the keypad. But I feel like if I break eye contact, he’ll use that time to rush at me, attacking like a wild animal.

Sweat drips down my back, and the itchy anxiety sweater is now a zip-up onesie. With footies. And a hood that’s pulled tight around my face. The ties are wrapping around my neck, making it hard to breathe.

“My wife wants to leave me now.” James comes closer. “And take my child with her.”

“You…you should have thought about that before you cheated on her.” It takes great effort to keep my voice level. My fingers shake, and I blindly hit buttons, thinking I got the combination right.

I didn’t.

I get two more tries before it’ll lock me out for five minutes. I don’t have five minutes.

James narrows his eyes and balls his fist. “You’re going to pay for this, bitch.”

I sidestep back, bumping into the wall. Then the door flies open and Logan jumps out, shoving James hard in the chest. James takes a swing at Logan, who blocks the blow and pops James square in the nose.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” Logan shouts, taking one of James’s arms and twisting it behind his back. “I should beat the shit out of you for even thinking about hitting a woman.”

He pulls James’s arm back further and then shoves him down into the grass.

“Logan…Thank you,” I say in a shaky voice. I look at him, and all he does is flick his eyes to up mine. “Do you want me to call Wes?”

“I got this.”

“I can—”

“Just go back inside.” He looks back at James, who’s too drunk to upright himself now that he’s down, reminding me of a turtle on its back.

“Logan,” I start, heart sinking. The anxiety onesie is back, but this time it’s wrapping me up in an extra blanket of dread and regret. Logan lifts his head, eyes meeting mine.

I should see anger. Hell, I want to see anger. Because knowing he’s pissed at me would hurt a lot less than the disappointment and hurt I see reflected in his deep brown eyes. Disappointment I know my words caused him.

My words I wish I could take back. Because as much as it scares me to admit, Logan Dawson has my heart.