He couldn’t say the way she’d handled the kids today surprised him in the least. The two times he’d worked with her at The Squeeze, he could tell she was good with people. But watching her in action still left him reeling and in awe.
There was just something so amazing about her.
She made him feel—
Oh.
Wow.
Realizing exactly what she made him feel struck Logan like a thunderbolt. He’d always been attracted to her and had formed that strange obsession thing for her, but this…this was worse.
He was in huge trouble.
Paige noticed his horrified stare a moment later.
She did a double take before focusing on his face, knitting her brow as her smile faltered. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
He shook his head, utterly bowled over. He’d killed her brother, been indirectly responsible for the death of her mother, turned her dad into an abusive drunk, ruined her relationship with her best friend, and had permanently altered the course of her life. She should hate him, but there she stood, looking worried.
About him.
He was in more than just huge trouble. He was totally screwed.
This wasn’t some stupid, misdirected crush anymore. It wasn’t some mild obsession. He’d fallen irrevocably flat-out in love with Trace Zukowski’s little sister.
“Logan?” She stepped toward him, lifting her hand as if she wanted to touch him, maybe feel his brow for a fever.
He shook his head, commanding himself to get a grip. “It’s nothing,” he assured her.
Deciding he no longer needed to wear the dress, he turned away and went about shrugging it off over his head. As he rolled it into a ball around his arm, he caught her watching him, skimming her gaze down his physique with the gleam of sexual interest in her expression. And just like that, heat ran over his body, prickling his skin, making all his hairs stand on end, aware of nothing but her assessing eyes.
He told himself it didn’t mean what he wanted it to mean. But, oh, how he wished. How he envisioned the whole thing.
It’d only take him two, maybe three, steps to reach her. He’d cup her face in both of his hands and tilt her chin just so to align their lips perfectly. She’d kiss him back, willingly, gently. His mouth watered, already imagining what she’d taste like, how she’d feel against him.
Soft. She’d be so soft. That gorgeous hair of hers would slip over the backs of his fingers as he cradled her face. Like silk.
He jerked his attention away and tossed the balled dress into the opened chest.
She wandered closer to him, or maybe she was heading toward the trunk. But to him, it felt like she was the fly unknowingly heading straight into his tangled web.
“I can’t believe you actually wore the dress. For some reason, I always pictured you as a snob, all conceited and full of yourself, too good for the rest of the population. Certainly too good to wear a pink dress for a group of sick children.”
He glanced at her. Nothing malicious lurked behind her statement, but it pained him anyway. Because it had been a little too true.
“Yeah. Well, you’re not too far off the mark. Back in the day, I was pretty full of myself.”
Kneeling before the trunk, he reached out to collect the clothing accessories strewn across the floor. When he realized tossing them haphazardly into the trunk wouldn’t allow everything that had been in there before to fit, he rearranged items, slotting them in in a more organized manner.
He was busy piling the shoes on one end when Paige closed in.
“Well, I think the Logan Xander you are now is a remarkable person.”
And all he’d had to do to become this way was eliminate one of the most important people in her life.
Sadness and regret cramped his stomach muscles. “Yeah,” he mumbled, keeping his attention on the shoe arrangement.
Paige leaned past him to pick up the pink dress he’d worn. And as she did, her hair fell down in front of her face, cascading before him to dangle into the depths of the chest. Those glossy black strands swayed inches from his nose. He held his breath, but a whiff of her shampoo—that alluring cinnamon and vanilla—had already fluttered up his nostrils, captured in his heightened senses.
He closed his eyes, commanding himself not to react.
All too soon, she straightened and began to fold the wadded dress into a neat square. He exhaled, air whooshing from his lungs in a rush, making him dizzy.
Then she did the unthinkable. She leaned down again and set the folded dress neatly in the bottom of the trunk, only to pick up a black cape, probably to fold it too.
Once, he could handle. Twice, he was doomed.
As the tempting tendrils of her dark, glossy mane floated before him for a second time, he leaned into them, breathing deeply, consuming their silky texture into his very essence as they barely brushed his cheek.
Oh, God, her hair was even softer than he’d imagined.
He was so entrenched in his reverence he didn’t immediately notice how she’d frozen. He felt too drugged, too high on her nearness to care about anything else. As long as she kept letting him breathe in the scent of her hair, life was perfect.
When he realized he was making a worship-service out of the act and she was watching, he yanked himself back, abruptly returning to reality.
Busted.
A pair of startled, dark eyes slid his way, and she straightened just as quickly as he’d pulled away.
For the space of two seconds, they just stared at each other, their gazes wide with a shared shock.
“I—” He tried to apologize. But he wasn’t sorry. If given another chance, he knew he’d do the same thing again, maybe even try for more. Skin to skin contact. A kiss. Anything she’d allow.
The fact that she wasn’t running away right now gave him foolish hope. She looked so vulnerable and scared, and her bruised cheek dragged out the protective instincts in him. It all spurred him into the reckless act of reaching for her, his fingers stretching for the impossible.
“Paige.”
She jerked back before he could touch her cheek. “I should go.” Pale and trembling, she spun away and rushed from the room.
Rocking back on his haunches from where he’d been crouched on the floor, Logan sat hard on the cool tile, staring after her as she disappeared.
All that progress they’d made from the start of the school year was shattered. She was back to running away from him. He’d managed to sever the tender threads of their precarious friendship with one stupid move. She’d never talk to him again now, never smile at him, never sit by him at another group meeting.
He’d just ruined everything.
“You’re such an idiot,” he hissed to himself. After sitting there, cursing his own stupidity for a good thirty seconds, he shoved the rest of the contents into the trunk, compressing them with both hands until he was able to slam the lid closed.
He was latching the trunk’s buckle into place when the back of his neck tingled as it always did right before he saw her. Great, now it was happening just from thinking about her.
Rubbing at the irritating sensation, he muttered, “Stop it,” under his breath and picked up one end of the trunk to drag it back to its position against the wall.
He only got two feet before he realized she’d returned. Standing in the doorway of the playroom, she twisted her hands at her lap as she watched him. He stumbled to a stop, still holding onto one end of the trunk.
“I…I forgot my coat and hat.”
With a single nod, he began to turn away, but she hurried forward. “Here. Let me help.”
“It’s okay. I got—”
She picked up the other end of the chest. He drew in a lungful, telling himself to calm down. This didn’t mean anything. But after they dropped the chest back into its original spot, he couldn’t help but send her a curious glance as he brushed his hands off onto his thighs.
“Thanks.”
She nodded, not making ey
e contact as she retrieved her coat. She slipped it on, then tugged that adorable hat over her head before she turned to him, her gaze darting and wary.
“So, um…see you at the next meeting?”
That’s how they were going to play it, then? Pretend it never happened?
Since he knew this was the only way he’d ever get anywhere near her, he silently acquiesced to her wishes. With a nod, he answered, “Yeah. See you then.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
PAIGE ACTUALLY LOOKED FORWARD to the start of spring classes. Though she enrolled in more core requirements, steering clear of anything pertaining to her degree, she visited her advisor a week before the new semester started.
“I want to change my major,” she announced, releasing the pent up air she’d been holding since she’d initially enrolled at Granton.
Dr. Carrel studied her a moment before chuckling. “Well, it’s about time. I knew after our first meeting, business marketing wasn’t the path for you. So, what’s it to be, Miss Zukowski? Education?”
Paige grinned and nodded. After tacking on another two classes to her spring schedule, she thanked her advisor for all the help, and skipped from the building, feeling much lighter.
When she returned to her dorm, she was still smiling. But as soon as she shut herself in her room, the sheets on Mariah’s old bed rustled, making her scream.
Her roommate winced against the sound as she sat up. “Nice to see you too,” Mariah grumbled, her voice slightly hoarse.
“Oh, my God. Mariah! What’re you doing here?” Paige pressed a hand against her chest, trying to beat back the heart attack she wanted to have.
Mariah scowled at her from bloodshot eyes. “It’s my room too, you know.”
“But…” Paige frowned when she realized the red around Mariah’s eyes were from recently shed tears, not some kind of hangover. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s over, that’s what’s wrong.” Mariah sniffed and wiped at another tear dripping down her cheek. “Gavin and I. He cheated on me. The rat bastard.” When she buried her face into her hands and began to weep in earnest, Paige’s pity kicked in. She hurried across the room to sit on the bed next to her roommate and wrapped her arms around Mariah.
Mariah curled toward her and rested her cheek on Paige’s shoulder. “I loved him so much.”
As she blubbered, detailing everything she missed about her boyfriend, Paige listened, thinking Mariah’s boyfriend’s best attributes didn’t sound all that appealing. Logan outshone him in every way. As his face popped into her head, her thoughts wandered to him. She couldn’t count the number of times she had replayed that moment in the hospital when she’d realized he was smelling her hair.
The way his lips had parted and nostrils had flared exposed a look of utter ecstasy that couldn’t be faked. Then his lashes had parted, and his eyes had been glazed with pleasure as if he were drugged and high off her scent. He’d gazed at her blindly for a moment, all his emotions etched onto his face. He had wanted her.
The muscles deep in her belly had clenched with utter awareness, and she’d wanted him back, wanted to kiss him and touch him. She’d wanted everything he had to offer. She’d never felt so attracted to another person in her life.
Then his gaze had cleared, and her mind had cleared, and horror had filled her.
Escape had been the only viable option, because remaining anywhere near Logan Xander after that would’ve been epically disastrous.
As Mariah sobbed in her arms, swearing off all men, Paige silently swore herself off one man. Trace would roll over in his grave if he knew what she was thinking.
Besides, up until a few months ago, she’d hated Logan. From absolutely loathing him to wanting to jump his bones just seemed wrong, unfair to him, and…and really, really wrong. The attraction couldn’t be trusted.
She decided avoiding him at all costs was out of the question since doing that would only prove how much she was running from her attraction. Befriending him was also out of the question. But kind, distant, polite courtesy she could handle.
At least she hoped so.
Paige spent the rest of the day helping Mariah get through her breakup and trying to convince herself with every excuse she could concoct why Logan was bad for her.
When Bailey and Tess arrived later that evening, finally moving back in after the holiday break, Paige was beyond relieved to see them, though actually she had somewhat welcomed Mariah’s breakdown. It had marginally helped distract her from everything she didn’t want to think about.
She winced inwardly when she had to lie about her bruise to Bailey and Tess, using the old laundry basket story. But after Logan’s response to the truth, she decided she liked her fib much better, even if she wished she didn’t have to tell her closest friends a lie.
Wonderful support that they were, Tess and Bailey swallowed her story whole and then helped her cheer up Mariah. By Friday, Mariah was back to her regular self, ready to go out and find a party.
Paige and her suitemates wasted most of the weekend before the spring classes started catching up. Bailey had actually met a guy back in her hometown, but Tess heartily disapproved of him. Entertained by watching them argue about him, Paige was thrown for a loop when Tess turned from Bailey, ignoring her insults, and blankly asked, “So, how was your winter break, Paige?”
“Oh…” Flashes of her few tense confrontations with her father, of learning the truth about Kayla, of realizing how much she liked Logan struck her cold in the chest.
She smiled vaguely and answered, “It was fine. My friend Kayla got me a pair of ruby earrings to go with my cross necklace.”
“Oh, they’re cute.” Neither suitemate asked anything else, and she breathed a sigh of relief, glad her moment in the spotlight had passed.
She started back to work the night before her first class began. Thankful and yet disappointed to learn she didn’t share the shift with Logan, she went through the motions, more distracted than paying attention to what she was actually doing.
When the next day began, she was up early and ready for some good hectic chaos, which she got. Her new schedule was much tougher this semester. But it still didn’t keep her mind from straying at the most inopportune moments, like the first Tuesday her grief group meetings resumed. She was so preoccupied about seeing Logan again she was lost in her own thoughts as she hurried down the front steps of Grammar Hall to the exit.
Einstein popped out from behind the staircase. Paige screamed.
“Oh my God.” She closed her eyes and waited for her heart to settle. “I swear, Einstein, you just scared ten years off my life.”
“Where’re you headed?”
“My grief group.” She glanced at her wristwatch, knowing she didn’t have time to small talk. “It starts in five minutes.”
His shoulders deflated. “That’s right. It’s Tuesday, isn’t it?” His depression tugged at her sympathies and reminded her it had been a while since she’d hung out with him. Suddenly remembering his story about his mother—though she still didn’t believe it—she said, “Hey, why don’t you come with me? You could talk about your mom.”
Instead of brightening, his scowl grew darker. “I don’t need a room full of strangers picking at my brain, telling me what I should and shouldn’t feel. I’m not a freak.” Brushing past her so hard he actually knocked her back a step, he rounded the staircase and hurried up to the second level.
Startled, Paige gaped after him. Well, okay, then. He must think she was a freak, then, because she did need help. She made an immediate note to herself never to mention counseling or group therapy to Anthony Morris again.
When she slipped into the Crimson Room five minutes later, she scanned the circle until she spotted Logan. Though his back was to her as he spoke to some guy who’d lost his sister in a car accident, he reached up and touched the back of his neck before he turned and looked directly at her.
Longing swirled in his gaze, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe.
br /> This is bad, this is bad, this is bad.
Jerking her attention from him, she jumped when Sam descended upon her. “What happened? Were you in an accident?”
Paige had no idea what she meant until Sam winced and brushed her fingers delicately across Paige’s cheek.
Gritting her molars hard, Paige silently cursed that stupid shiner. After three weeks, the cut had healed and was barely noticeable, but the bruise had gone through every color of the rainbow already. Though it had faded a lot, it just wouldn’t disappear.
“Oh, I tripped over a laundry basket in the dark one night when I was trying to find my way to the bathroom.”
Holding her breath as she spilled out the lie, her gaze unconsciously sought Logan. By the way he watched her, she knew he’d heard her story. His lips tightened with disapproval, but he said nothing as he turned away.
And he wouldn’t. That was just the kind of person he was.
Glancing away, she focused on the group leader just as Samantha clapped her hands and called the meeting to a start.
After going around and sharing what they’d done for their winter break—Logan quietly passing his turn, and Paige merely saying she’d spent it with her dad—Sam cleared her throat once everyone had gotten a chance to share. “All right, let’s have a cancer center visit report from—” she checked her schedule “—Jamie, Paige, and Logan.”
“Oh my God.” Jamie gasped, slapping her hand against her forehead. “I totally forgot about that.” She turned toward Paige who sat beside her. “I’m so sorry I didn’t make it. I owe you big time.”
“It’s okay,” Paige said, waving her apologies aside. “We managed.” Glancing across the circle toward Logan, she grinned. “Just the two of us. Though, a warning: don’t open the old wooden trunk sitting against the wall. It’s only there for looks.”
Logan held her gaze a moment, his eyes glittering with amusement. As if on cue, her body lit up, her nerves tingling out of control with an overdose of awareness.
He gazed back, blue eyes going heated. She knew he was remembering the same exact moment from that day that she was.