Chapter Two: Danielle

Chapter Two

Danielle

“Why did I think tequila shots were a good idea?” I rub my forehead, blinking my eyes open to watch the farmland pass us by. Everything is dark, and then a raccoon’s eyes reflect in the headlights. It probably won’t be long until we see a deer as well. I’ve learned to drive well below the speed limit on some of these country roads at night. You never know what kind of wildlife will run out in front of you.

Logan laughs softly and reaches into the backseat of his car, pulling a water bottle out of an open case and handing it to me.

“Thanks,” I say and go to take it from him. My fingers brush over his, and I’m almost startled by how soft and warm his skin feels against mine. I wonder if the rest of him is just as—nope. I can’t go there.

First of all, he’s my boss.

And second, what’s the point of starting a relationship when I’m not staying here forever? I’m a bit ride-or-die when it comes to dating. I either want casual, first-name-only-basis or we’re-in-it-for-the-long-haul kind of deal. Logan has long-haul potential, but I’m kind of a basket case, and he’s, well…Logan.

Handsome. Polite. A bit broody and moody, which really just adds to his charm. His t-shirts are just tight enough to show off his muscles. And that’s not to mention his strong jawline that’s always covered in the perfect amount of stubble.

Family is important to him, and he’s probably one of the most loyal people I know. He loves dogs and likes to read and—shit. I’m doing it again. I twist the cap off the water bottle and chug half of it, feeling much better once the water hits my stomach.

Logan’s place isn’t far from the bar. I know because I’ve been there before. Just never at night like this. With the intention of falling asleep there.

Which isn’t a big deal. We’re friends. And friends let friends crash at their place when they need to. I steal another glance at Logan, getting the most unwelcome feeling of fluttering in my chest. A passing car’s headlights illuminate his handsome face and I need to look away.

“Did we forget Owen at the bar?”

“He went home with some girl he met tonight. She was waiting for him to get off work.”

I shake my head, laughing. “Hasn’t he slept with most of Eastwood by now?”

“He has. I better warn your grandpa Owen’s moving into a new age bracket. He should lock things down with Adele to keep Owen from making a move.”

“You’re such a dick,” I laugh, playfully nudging Logan’s arm. His skin is warm like I imagined, and my fingers linger just a little too long. Swallowing hard, I shift in my seat and take another drink of water.

Logan messes with the radio and we drive the rest of the short way to his place listening to music and not talking. Yellow light spills from the porch and into the lawn. Logan and Owen live together in a cookie-cutter house in a newer subdivision on the outskirts of Eastwood. The house looks like it was lifted from a middle-aged housewife’s P*******t board, and is the last house I’d expect two eligible bachelors to live in.

It took me by surprise the first time I pulled up to it and was even more shocked when I went inside and saw the professional decorating. Turns out, this neighborhood was developed and built by Mr. Dawson’s contracting company. The house Logan and Owen live in now was a model home for a few years, hence the perfect design.

I wobble my way through the garage and into the house.

“Did your mom send you any leftovers?” I ask, balancing on one foot at a time to get my heels off, tossing them to the side of the door.

“Oh of course,” Logan says, striding through the kitchen, following the pathetic whimpers of his dog. “But we ate them.”

“Dang it. Your mom is a good cook.”

“We’re having lunch over there tomorrow. Come with.” The sound of a metal crate opening echoes through the otherwise quiet house. A five-month-old German Shepherd comes running out, jumping up at Logan, wagging his tail so hard he almost falls over.

“Down,” Logan tells him, holding out his hand. It’s cute, really, watching him try to be firm with the dog. He always ends up caving, like he is right now as he sits on the floor and lets the dog get up in his face.

“His training seems to be going well,” I sass, crossing my arms. “Glad you’re really sticking with being firm.”

“How can you say no to this face?” Logan pushes the dog’s ears back and then scratches Dexter’s chest, making his back leg go all crazy.

“Dexter!” I call, sinking down to my knees. Dexter, realizing for the first time that I’m here, comes barreling over. He knocks me back and I fall to the ground, laughing as the lanky pup licks my face.

“Come on,” Logan calls. “Go outside.”

Dexter bounds away, getting excited when he sees Logan holding his leash. I push myself up, going over to the sink to get something to drink since I somehow forgot about the water bottle in the two seconds it took for me to unbuckle and get out of the car. I fill a glass with water and set it on the counter. The kitchen is relatively clean today. Logan, overall, is a neat person. Living with Owen is like living with an adult-sized toddler leaving messes in every room. It’s funny, really, how they look so alike but have such different personalities.

I go into the living room, find the TV remote on the coffee table, and sink onto the couch. I have every intention of turning on a scary movie and making Logan watch it with me. But then I close my eyes, just for a second. The next thing I know, Dexter is on the couch next to me, wagging his tail and licking my face.

“Lightweight.” I feel the couch sink down as Logan sits down at my other side.

“Hey,” I grumble, slitting my eyes open. “I actually had like three drinks and a shot tonight. That’s a lot.”

“It is. I’ll change that lightweight to a lush then.”

“Asshole.” I try to throw a pillow at him but just end up smacking him in the face. I push myself up and laugh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Now you’ve done it.” Logan grabs another pillow and chucks it at me. Dexter gets way too excited and pounces on Logan, with one of his large paws landing right between his legs. Logan doubles over in pain, and I laugh even harder.

“Who’s the asshole now?” he chokes out.

“Don’t call Dexter-Wexter an asshole,” I gasp in fake shock and slip my fingers under Dexter’s collar, gently pulling him back and off the couch. I get up to grab the pillow I threw and trip when Dexter tries to do a flying leap back onto the couch.

I don’t know how he moves so fast, but I’m grateful he did. Because I’m still too drunk to have a good reaction time, and I’m about ready to fall backward onto the glass coffee table.

Logan’s arms fold around my waist at the last second. He pulls me to his chest and straightens up. I have one hand on his chest and the other is gripping his bicep. Which is strong. Firm. Warm, just like the rest of him.

A second passes, and we’re still standing there like this. I splay my fingers over his chest and turn my head up, looking into his brown eyes. Inhaling deep, my breasts crush against his body. His hand that’s on the small of my back inches lower and his fingertips press into my waist.

Heat flashes through me, unlike anything I’ve felt around him before. I’ve worked hard to keep these kinds of reactions from happening, but my whiskey-soaked mind has lost all its will right now.

“You okay?” he asks, though by now it’s obvious I am.

“Yeah. Lost my balance.”

“No shit.”

I purse my lips and go to shove him away. Dexter is on the floor behind him now, and Logan trips over the dog and falls back onto the couch, taking me down with him. That same heat ripples through me again, making my skin break out in goosebumps. My heart lurches and is beating so fast I’m sure Logan can hear it.

I should push him away.

Run and hide.

I definitely shouldn’t be inching closer, taking note of the way his cologne smells, or the fact that his shirt is pulled up a bit, exposing a few inches of his abdomen.

I shouldn’t want more.

Our eyes meet and I part my lips, feeling my heart beating faster and faster in my chest. I know one kiss is all it will take to change things between us, and the thought terrifies me.

My life has been one mistake after another, and each seems to try its damnedest to outdo the last. I love what we have between us. Logan is my best friend. I don’t want to mess that up.

But Lord have mercy on me right now. His heart is hammering along with mine, and he looks at me with an intensity I’ve never seen before. One that heats me from the inside out, melting the panties right off me. My face is moving slowly toward his, eyes zeroed in on his perfect lips. He closes his eyes, long lashes coming together, and inhales, pushing his chest up against mine.

And then Dexter jumps up, barking, startling us both. He runs through the living room and into the kitchen, disappearing into the small mud room to greet whoever just came in the house.

Logan’s brows furrow, and I get off of him, too drunk to think logically right now. Whiskey and tequila swirl around in my head, though it’s nothing but a small buzz compared to the way Logan just made me feel. He springs to his feet and rushes through the house, and it’s only then I remember Owen isn’t supposed to be home tonight.

I don’t remember locking the door behind us. Eastwood is a slow-moving, peaceful town, but it’s not a crime-free paradise. People break in, and there’s been a rash of burglaries lately. So far, all have happened to empty houses, but maybe they didn’t know we were home.

Suddenly, I’m scared, and I look around the room for a weapon.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Logan asks, but he seems annoyed, not terrified for our lives.

“Miranda’s sister brought some friends over. We needed a place a little more private.”

I let out a breath. It’s Owen. I sink back onto the couch, head spinning. I cup my face in my hands. What the hell was I thinking?

But also…why not?

No. Nope. No way José. I thought with my heart instead of my head my whole life and look where it got me. I’ve spent the last year making logical choices, and I’ve never been happier. Hearts are wild things needed to be confined to cages. They can’t be trusted.

“What, did I interrupt something?” Owen moves into the kitchen and immediately goes for the fridge. Most of the main floor is an open concept, and the kitchen, breakfast nook, and living room are all one big area. A pretty girl with short black hair follows along behind him, nervously looking at Dexter. The dog is big for a puppy, but he’s still in that I love everyone phase and hasn’t gotten too protective yet.

I close my eyes, feeling the pull of the alcohol making me tired. I let it lull me to sleep, passing out right there on the couch, dreaming of something other than the feelings that are taking me over right now. Though there’s just as much of a risk of dreaming about Logan and how good we could be together.