“Guess you don’t know me at all. Lucky for you, killer, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”
Lana’s lips curl up into a faint snarl. “How exciting. If you see me running the other way, don’t take it personally.”
Crew throws his head back and laughs, his strong neck hidden behind his tattoos. “You’re a spitfire, Lana Dawson.” He turns, looking past the town gazebo. “Our boy over there is helping Mrs. Clark set up her tent, but a pesky little nuisance has sunk her claws into him,” he says while looking at me. “I’d save him myself, but I have business to deal with.”
“What’s that… robbing children of their candy?” Lana scoffs, a chuckle sounding from the distance as Crew walks away.
“Prick,” she mutters under her breath.
Not having the slightest idea what is up with those two, I turn my attention over to Logan, the mystery woman, and Mrs. Clark, who’s unloading boxes. He’s busy not wanting to be bothered by the other woman or not wantingherto be the one bothering him. Logan’s pretending she’s not there even though she’s running her hand slowly and seductively down his arm, but he doesn’t seem to be enjoying it. That alone oddly satisfies me. But a certain something swirls around in my chest, like possible jealously. I’ll just pretend that the funny notion doesn’t exist, continuing to ignore it.
However, with sudden courage, I take a step forward. “I think I’ll go say hi.”
“Be sure to give Logan my love.” Lana grins, waving me off.
My wedges clunk against the cement path leading me to where Logan is, remembering I haven’t spoken to him or seen him. This might be awkward, but I don’t care. I stop beside Logan, grabbing the attention of all three.
Mrs. Clark throws me a wide smile. She looks to be in her late fifties with a pixie cut, wearing a bohemian style fashion.
“Hi. I’m Sora. A good friend of Lana’s.” I wanted to add Logan to that, but I’m not sure if we’re recognizing ourselves as friends yet.
Logan shuffles, finishing setting the tent poles into place. His muscles flex with every hard push. He takes a long glance at me, his eyes soaking me in like the sun.
“Oh yes! Shelby has told me so much about you. She hasn’t stopped raving about your desserts.”
“I’m glad she likes them.” I smile shyly, trying to hide the heat rising on my face.
“Likes them? Please. The whole town is talking about them. Shelby also said how wonderfully sweet you are. You’re welcome around here anytime. My shop is right down from the café.”
Good news, the entire town doesn’t hate me.
I glance at her pretty jewelry. “I’ll definitely have to stop by. These are stunning.” By the intricate details, I can tell they must have taken forever to craft.
“Thank you, dear. Not sure how much longer I’ll be able to make them, but until that time comes, I won’t be giving it up anytime soon.” Her motivation is admirable. “Well, these boxes aren’t going to unpack themselves. It was nice meeting you, Sora.” Mrs. Clark bids me a farewell then busies herself on the other side of her display table.
When I turn to face Logan, he’s giving a final tug on the canopy, his shirt riding up revealing the muscles I vividly remember.
I jerk my eyes away. “Logan.”
He clears his throat, nodding my way. “Sora.”
We’re locked in each other’s gazes before a hand shoves its way between us. Being polite, I accept her handshake. “I’m Claire. I own a boutique across the street. Perhaps I can give yousome free fashion advice.” She glances over me before basically snarling.
Okay, bitch.
I’ve been around women like her. She’s nothing I can’t handle.
“I’m all right, thank you.” I match her energy with a fake smile. “But like you, I too can give brilliant advice… like how to keep your hands to yourself.”
Her fake smile fades, and she eyes me with disdain. “I’m sorry?”
“Touching someone without permission isn’t polite and can make that person feel uncomfortable. Consider this a friendly suggestion,” I say, my veins burning red hot. For some reason, I hold a protection for Logan. He doesn’t seem the assertive type who’d tell her to leave.
She scoffs. “Well, can’t say it was nice meeting you. I’ll see you around, Logan.” Claire turns quickly, sending her hair flying as she stomps away.
Satisfaction grows bigger. I don’t need an enemy, but I do not like her.
Logan rubs the back of his neck. “You didn’t have to do that.”
