Fighting Fate

  Kayla clung to her tightly. “You will not believe how much I missed you.”

  Then she pulled back to hug Paige’s father. Watching them together, Paige tried to remember the last time she’d hugged him herself. Certainly not since her mother’s death, maybe not even since Trace’s.

  She wondered why he could still be affectionate with Kayla and yet his warmth for his own daughter was nonexistent. Maybe he wished she had died instead of Trace. Or instead of her mother.

  Tearing her thoughts from such a troubling decline, Paige focused on Kayla’s parents as they stepped outside.

  The Hashmans were wonderful, pleasant hosts and made sure to include everyone in every part of the dinner. But Paige still felt disconnected, a spectator more than a participant. She wanted to return to Granton.

  After dessert, Kayla hooked her arm through Paige’s and led her back to her room. It looked the same as always, sending a wistful pang of nostalgia through her. She remembered the first time she’d been here. With Trace.

  He’d let her tag along with him so Kayla’s parents wouldn’t make a fuss about him being in Kayla’s bedroom without parental supervision. And while Kayla had let fourteen-year-old Paige paw through her jewelry, she and Trace had made out all evening on her bed.

  Kayla had been devastated when he’d died. Though she and Paige hadn’t exactly been close before the accident, they’d become inseparable afterward. Kayla had been there when it had happened and had told Paige he’d died instantly without feeling any pain whatsoever.

  And she’d been able to share Paige’s grief like no one else. Paige sometimes felt Kayla had taken Trace’s death the hardest.

  Sitting at Kayla’s old dressing table, Paige studied her own reflection in the mirror and wondered if she should ever tell her friend about Logan Xander’s presence at Granton.

  “I love this vanity,” she murmured instead, running her fingers over the gray marble top.

  Behind Paige, Kayla scooped up a handful of Paige’s hair and began to play with it. “I can’t believe I’m actually going to say this, but…you look great. I think Granton agrees with you.”

  Closing her eyes against the soothing effect Kayla’s fingers had on her scalp, Paige tilted her head back and sighed. “It does. I went there looking for a way to reconnect with Trace, but I ended up reconnecting with myself.” She opened her eyes and met Kayla’s gaze in the mirror. “I think I was able to let go of him.” She smiled. “It was past time.”

  Kayla dropped Paige’s hair and propped her hip against the vanity so she could face Paige directly. “I think I was able to let go too.” Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she rushed out her next words. “I met someone.”

  Paige’s mouth dropped open. After the way she’d mourned Trace, Paige had worried Kayla would never move on again. Maybe her leaving had helped Kayla too.

  Popping to her feet, she took a relieved breath and hugged her friend. “That’s wonderful.”

  Kayla squeezed her tight and didn’t let go. “You’re not mad?”

  Paige frowned. “Why would I be mad? It’s been three years, Kayla. Way past time for you to date again.”

  “But—”

  “Look at me.” Paige pulled back enough to catch Kayla’s shoulders and stare her in the eye. “Trace would want you to be happy.”

  Kayla looked sick to her stomach. She shook her head and opened her mouth, no doubt to argue, so Paige quickly spoke over her. “And I want you to be happy.”

  Paige had debated with herself numerous times over the years whether to tell Kayla about the engagement ring she’d found when cleaning out Trace’s room after his funeral. He really had loved Kayla; he’d wanted to marry her.

  In the end, Paige had decided against mentioning it; it’d only hurt Kayla more to know. Looking at her friend now, she was doubly glad she’d made the decision she had.

  “Now spill all the details,” she demanded, grinning. “What’s this guy’s name? What does he do? When can I meet him?”

  Watching Kayla blush and gush about her new love interest was almost surreal. Since they’d become real friends, Paige couldn’t remember a conversation about something positive or the future. This felt…normal. Good.

  Her attending Granton really had been the best thing. For everyone.

  Paige returned to Granton first thing Sunday morning after Thanksgiving. Her father made no move to stop her or coax her to stay a couple hours longer. She wondered if he was relieved to see her go.

  When she returned to her dorm, she felt better. At ease. She had no idea when this one room had become more of a home to her than her own, but she was glad to be back.

  It was lonely, though. She knew Tess and Bailey wouldn’t show up until after dinner, and Einstein wasn’t in his usual haunts. She was actually relieved when Gus called her later that morning.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Paige, but Lynne called in sick, and I can’t find anyone else to fill in for her tonight for the closing shift. I tried, I really did.”

  Curious why he sounded so apologetic since he called her all the time, asking her to fill in for someone, she assured him, “That’s fine. I can come in tonight, no problem.”

  “Uh…”

  Seriously, what in the world was going on?

  “Yes?” she prompted.

  “You’d be working with Logan.”

  Her heart gave a jolt. Suddenly, everything became clear. Logan must’ve said something to Gus. She wondered how exactly he’d worded his request. No way would he have told their boss about Trace. Would he?

  “Tha—that’s fine,” she said, still flabbergasted about this revelation. “I don’t mind.”

  “Really?” Gus sounded startled. “Oh, thank God. I promised my wife I’d take her out for our anniversary. She would’ve killed me if I’d had to cancel on her to fill in for Lynne.”

  “It’s fine,” Paige repeated, even though her heart rate jacked up a little too fast. “Really.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  PAIGE CLOCKED IN ten minutes early for her shift with Logan. As she slowly wrapped her uniform apron around her waist, she drew in a bracing breath. She was about to see him again. Her pulse had been jackhammering through her bloodstream for the past hour since she’d hung up with Gus.

  The idea of getting to see him animated her from the inside out. She couldn’t pinpoint why it had her so restless; she barely knew him outside their history together. Maybe it was because every encounter with him had been so intense, it was hard for her body not to expect a little more intensity when she saw him again.

  Forcing herself to exhale, she moved into the front, where Debra, who was obviously about to leave, gave a happy squeal and ripped off her apron. “Thank God you’re here. I was about to go crazy.”

  Preoccupied with blending up a smoothie, Logan didn’t notice her arrival.

  Paige tore her gaze away from him and sent Debra a smile. “Been a busy night?” she asked. She would’ve thought things would slow down during the holiday break.

  Logan whirled around, lost his grip on the cup he held and nearly dropped it. While he fumbled to straighten it, he choked out, “What’re you—”

  She breezed past him to the register where she would be working for the rest of the night. “Lynne called in sick. Gus couldn’t find anyone else to fill in.”

  He didn’t have an opportunity to respond, customers were flocking to the counter, so he let her explanation go for a good five minutes before they had a break in traffic.

  Paige turned to him and set her hand on her hips. “You talked to him, didn’t you? About making sure we never worked together?”

  Logan studied her a moment before inclining his head. “Yes.”

  Her lips parted. “What did you tell him?”

  “The truth.” He glanced away, though she still caught the swirling look of anguish in his azure gaze.

  Amazed and shocked he’d done something she instinctively knew he dreaded most in the world, she sh
ook her head to deny it. But what was more unbelievable was he’d done it for her.

  “You know, I, um…I really appreciate what you did,” she murmured. “But honestly, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  At first, his only reaction was the flickering of his eyelashes. Then he frowned. “What doesn’t matter?”

  She shrugged and shifted by him to find a rag and wipe up a spot she saw on the back counter. “It doesn’t matter if we work together or not, or if we’re, you know, in the same room. Or same class. I know I used to freak out whenever you were…close, but that’s not the case anymore.”

  He went very still, focusing intently on her. “It’s not?” He shook his head. “I don’t understand. Why not? What’s changed?”

  “Nothing changed.” Paige put her back to him as she rinsed out the washcloth. “Except me, I guess. I just…I’ve worked through my issues a little. My issues concerning you, anyway.”

  Behind her, he remained quiet, though she could almost hear his thoughts whirling, trying to figure out what this meant for them now. She would have liked to answer him, but she wasn’t too certain what it meant either. She only knew avoiding him at all costs was no longer necessary for her well-being.

  When someone approached the counter, she rushed in front of Logan to take the order.

  His mind still spinning as Paige stole his customer, Logan cocked his head to the side, trying to figure her out. She really was a different person than she’d been a few short months ago. He’d seen the transformation from across campus, but up close like this, it was…breathtaking.

  He was so busy staring at her he didn’t realize he needed to intervene until she muttered a curse under her breath. Scowling at the whipped cream dispenser, she jiggled the nozzle, trying to get it to work.

  “Oh, I forgot to warn you.” He hurried forward. “It’s on the fritz.”

  “Again?” Paige spun to send him a frustrated frown. “What’re we supposed to use then?”

  When he motioned toward the dozen cans of whipped cream Gus had run to the store and bought earlier, her mouth dropped. “Are you freaking serious?”

  He shrugged and held up his hands. “I know.”

  She shook her head and sighed. He helped her with filling the rest of her order, and together they worked in efficient silence until the counter was free of customers.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, glancing up at him from her lovely, dark eyes.

  He glanced away because sometimes she was just too beautiful to look at. “Mmm hmm.”

  “So…” When she didn’t continue, he gave in and cast a peek her way. She was still watching him, looking intent, like she wanted to say something. Her mouth opened. Then closed.

  He turned to her fully, giving her his complete attention and that seemed to intimidate her even more. Ticked at himself for scaring her off of what she’d wanted to say, he began to turn away again, and finally she rushed out, “How was your Thanksgiving?”

  He had a feeling that’s not what she’d really wanted to say, but he didn’t question it. She was talking to him. Life was good. But no way was he going to tell her how badly his holiday weekend had sucked.

  He’d sat in his apartment alone, watching the Macy’s parade on TV and wondering how she was, who she was with, if she was having a good time.

  He nodded and murmured, “Mmm,” to tell her it was fine without technically lying. “You?”

  She nodded too. “Mmm.”

  Logan squinted, studying her hard enough to catch the gleam of amusement in her gaze. Was she…was she teasing him…again? For his non-forthcoming answer?

  Obviously catching on to his suspicious gaze, she rolled her eyes and twirled away, leaving him breathless…in too good of a way.

  She’d definitely been teasing him.

  “So is there any castoff food we can snack on today?” she asked, busying herself by tossing away empty whipped topping cans. “I’m starving.”

  He watched her a moment longer before answering. “Uh, yeah. Actually, there is. Gus left a plateful in the break room. I’ll go get it.”

  Before she could respond, he escaped down the back hall, hurrying to the break room. The tightness in his chest didn’t come from leery anxiety about having to work with a woman who hated him. Instead it came from a leery anxiety about having to work with a woman who didn’t hate him.

  Because he didn’t hate her right back.

  And that could be very dangerous.

  He’d composed his heart rate to a steady thump by the time he returned. Paige was busy with another customer, her back was to him, so she didn’t see it when he stole a blueberry muffin from the for-sale bin and add it to the castoff plate, reminding himself to pay for it later.

  It took everything he had not to grin smugly to himself when the blueberry muffin was the first thing she went for after her customers were taken care of.

  “Mmm. Oh God, this is so good.” Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head as she moaned, and his nearly rolled to the back of his as the sound she made pinged against every hormone in his body, stirring them all to life with painful awareness. “You know what would go great with this?”

  He couldn’t think up a non-naughty answer, so he merely lifted his eyebrows in question.

  “An iced caramel latte.” Then she brightened. “I’m buying one. We’re not that busy.”

  After she pulled a bill from her pocket, she tossed it to him. “Could you ring me up, please?”

  Catching the fluttering five from the air, he nodded. “Sure.” When she began to make her own, he added, “I think I’ll have one too,” and pulled some money from his own pocket.

  Her wide smile about undid him. “Cool.”

  Once he’d paid for her drink with her cash and the blueberry muffin and his drink with his, he approached her from behind, holding out her change. “Here’s your change. Hey, you didn’t have to make my latte too.”

  “It’s okay; I don’t mind.” In the process of opening a new whipped cream can, Paige turned to smile at him as she struggled to pry it off. When she finally picked the lid free, it flew in a fancy arc straight toward Logan, beaning him right between the eyes.

  She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Let me see.” She grabbed his wrist of the hand he was holding over his face and yanked it down. “Oh, no. It left a mark. Logan, I can’t believe I almost took your eye out.”

  He couldn’t believe she looked so concerned about his eye. Or was holding his hand.

  His face heated as he shrugged. “It’s okay. Really. I have another one.”

  Dropping his wrist, she snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess you do. Hmm.” Her eyes continued to gleam with amusement as she watched him. “I wonder why people do have two eyes. I mean, we only have one nose and one mouth. Why two eyes? Or…why not three or four?”

  He blinked, wondering where the heck that thought had come from. Instead of telling her how adorable he found her weird, philosophical pondering, he scratched his temple. “I’ve always wondered the same thing.”

  She lit with excitement. “Really?”

  Oh, crap. He deflated and came clean. “No. Not really.”

  Giving him a sideways smirk, she pushed playfully at this arm. “Are you calling me weird?”

  “No.” He unconsciously reached for his sleeve where she’d touched him. “I wouldn’t dare.”

  “You better not.” Grinning, she nodded in approval.

  Then she turned away to help a group of guys who came into the shop. They didn’t have a chance to tease and play around for the rest of the night, but Logan still felt high from their brief encounter. By the time closing rolled around, he still had this euphoric surge of adrenaline pounding through him, like he could pick up the entire building and twirl it around on his pinkie.

  As soon as Paige turned the Open sign around to display Closed, her nerves kicked in. She’d wanted to talk to Logan about his wrists for a while. After chickening out e
arlier, now was her last chance. But since “now” was actually here, saying what she wanted to say seemed awkward.

  She cleared her throat as she hurried back the counter. “Do you mind if I turn on the radio? It helps me work better.” Maybe it’d help ease her nerves into saying what she wanted to say too.

  He glanced at her with the most inscrutable expression, and then gave a slight shake of his head. “I don’t mind.”

  She tried to smile and found it strained. Her chest felt full, crammed with anxiety. “Thanks.”

  Gus kept an old alarm clock radio sitting on top of the tallest juice machine. Ricky had taught her she could turn the radio on after hours. Stretching up onto her tiptoes, she reached for the power button, her fingers stumbling blindly for the knob.

  “Here.” A long arm swooped above her head and flipped the switch.

  A low, slow melody flowed over them. Paige lowered her hand and turned, finding it difficult to breathe as she caught Logan’s gaze. With his arm still stretched over them, he asked, “Is this station okay?”

  Her voice had definitely gone on vacation. She opened her mouth, tried to speak, and got nothing. Pressing her lips together, she nodded.

  He lowered his arm, and she released her breath in a shudder.

  When he shifted away, she felt a little lost. Pressing her hand against her heart, hoping to calm the rapid beat pouring through her, she closed her eyes, and steadied herself.

  “I call dish duty.”

  He’d have to roll up his sleeves to do the dishes, and she’d caught him more than once this evening tugging them down. He’d probably done it before around her, but now she noticed it. She wondered if he realized how hard he constantly worked to hide them though.

  Logan moved to the meat slicer and began to disassemble it. They worked together in companionable silence, the radio lulling her as it played the top forty hits.