Who gets this upset over coffee? Clearly this man is fighting an inner battle with himself. Recent breakup? Fired from his job today? Or maybe someone stole his front row parking spot again.
“You want me to make you the same drink me and my coworker already made you and didn’t like? Yeah, I don’t think so.” My patience is running thin.
His eyes grow cold, and the way he leans toward me is threatening.
Logan’s hand flexes at his side.
“I said… make me another.” He slams another fist down, and this time, I take a step back, growing nervous with my breathing turning heavy.
Logan rounds on him, grabbing him by the front of his suit jacket. “Do that again and I’ll break your hand.” Logan shoots him with the meanest glare, and I watch Roger’s eyes grow wide with fear.
“On second thought. This one’s fine.”
Logan drops him from the death grip, and rude guy snatches the first coffee from the counter while still holding the second. He rushes out without a backward glance.
I let out a breath of relief, pressing a hand to my chest. “Fucking hell.”
Logan penetrates me with a look of concern.
“I was taking care of that,” I say, but my voice breaks.
“I know. But the second you went from fearless to terrified, I was stepping in. Are you all right?” His presence. His voice. All so soothing.
“Yes. But I thinkRogerjust gained two free coffees.”
“I think you’re right. I’ve had your coffee, and it’s the best.”
“You also think my desserts are the best.” I chuckle, blushing. “You’re late this morning.” I pause, opening the front case, my hands still trembling. “Not like I was waiting for or anything.” I wince. “That sounded rude. What I meant to say is—”
“I get it. And I got hung up at the shop. But I’m glad I was late.”
Me too.
“You saving me, Logan Beckham, has become a habit.”
With his scone and muffin tucked safely in the little bag, I start his usual coffee, then set the cup down on the counter, nearly spilling it because my damn hands won’t stop shaking. Warmth seeps into them as Logan covers my hands with his.
“You sure you’re okay?”
I stare down at the kind gesture, well aware of what his touch does to me. “Yeah. Just more shaken up than I thought.”
It’s not until Olivia returns to the front, I snatch my hand away, sending disappointment running through his expression.
“I’m drinking this here. Just in case he comes back.” He heads to the small table near the window, and I swallow, involuntarily rubbing the spot where he previously touched.
“I’m so sorry. I hope I’m not in trouble,” Olivia pleads, her eyes heavy with concern.
I place a hand on her shoulder. “You did nothing wrong. That guy is a jerk.”
Apprehension disappears while a relieving smile takes over her face, her stealing glances at the table Logan sat down at. “He’s fucking hot and you’re so lucky he’s in love with you.”
I choke on air, and it sends me into a minor coughing fit. Logan casts a quick glance before taking his scone out of the bag. He has on his usual plain T-shirt with dark jeans and that ridiculously stupid sexy hat he always wears backward.
Yes. He is fucking hot. But no, he’s not in love with me.
“We’re just friends.” I take a hand towel, wiping off the espresso machine.
“If one of my hot guy friends looked at me the way he looks at you, we’d always be naked.”
