by Tara Sheets
Logan watched as an expression of sadness flashed across her face. He wondered what her life had really been like as a child. He didn’t know much about her back then, except that she was one of the eccentric Holloways.
Years later, she’d approached him when he was a senior in high school. He remembered the first time he saw her—all dressed up—at his graduation party. It had been a shock to realize that the wild child from the woods was transforming into a beautiful woman.
“I was so jealous of that treehouse,” she said wistfully. “I remember thinking how it was wasted on you, because you were just a dumb boy.”
Logan laughed. “I was a dumb boy.”
“And if I had it,” she continued, “I’d grow flowers in the windows and coax the tree branches to hide the entrance. And it would have a secret password that only my friends would know. I’d sleep in it on rainy nights, or when the moon was full, and I’d lay and just listen to the wind. I never saw the inside, but I imagined it was a mess of dumb boy things like baseball gloves and Batman comics and gym socks. And I always thought, if it were mine, I’d fill it with important things that really mattered. Like books.” She grinned up at him, blue eyes flashing. “And cookies.”
He liked it when she smiled at him like that. It made him wish she’d do it more often. “Just books and cookies?”
She kicked her feet out, sending water splashing in a silvery arc across the stream. “What more does a person need? Treehouses aren’t that big on the inside. You have to carefully consider the necessities.”
Logan felt an odd sense of melancholy, watching her in that moment. She reminded him of days long gone. Simpler times. She reminded him what it was like to feel driving optimism and hope. He suddenly wanted to hold on to that feeling as long as he could, before it slipped away.
“Come with me.” He reached out his hand to help her up.
She looked at his hand, then stood on her own and dusted off her skirt. “Why?”
“I’d like you to see my treehouse.” He felt like he was balancing on a ledge, and her decision would either lift him up or send him tumbling. Why did he want to show her so much? All he knew was that it mattered to him. He’d been gone so long, and after the army, his life as a young boy with his grandfather seemed so far away. But Juliette was there, even if they had never moved in the same circles. She remembered his grandfather. She remembered him. She remembered the person he was before.
“I can’t,” she said softly.
A tightness gripped his chest. He swallowed his disappointment. “Maybe some other time.”
She dropped her head back and looked up into the canopy of trees. Logan watched as she closed her eyes and tilted her head, as if she were listening to the wind.
“I have to go home,” she said. “You should, too. It’s going to rain.”
He glanced around. “When?”
“Right”—she spread her arms wide, her face and palms tilted to the sky—“now.”
Tiny drops of rain began to fall around them, gaining momentum, faster and faster, until within moments they were cocooned in the muted sound of rain falling on leaves, and the rich scent of damp earth.
Juliette’s smile seemed as ancient as the trees, her eyes liquid pools of blue, and the soft laugh that escaped her lips was mesmerizing.
Desire spiked through him, hard and fast. Without thinking, he strode over and gathered her in his arms.
She blinked up at him in surprise, her lips parting on a soft gasp.
He kissed her. Slowly. Thoroughly. Until she melted into him, her hands reaching up to grip his shoulders, her body pressing closer. The rain soaked through his clothes, running in rivulets down his face, but Logan barely noticed. All he could think about was the way she felt against him. How she tasted like raindrops and honey, and how much he wanted to sweep her up and take her home. Home.
Before he had the chance to try, Juliette pulled away. She looked slightly baffled, as if she was trying to figure out how the kiss had started in the first place.
Shaking her head, she turned away, moving swiftly across the forest floor. And then she was gone.
Chapter Eighteen
Game face. Game face. Game face. Juliette repeated the mantra as she parked her car behind the florist shop. She needed to pull herself together. Yesterday’s boating fiasco was still a matter of humiliation, and even though she wished Logan hadn’t seen her in that predicament with Brock, she was glad he’d come along to help when he did.
But it wasn’t the boating incident that had her spinning like a carnival ride this morning. It was what happened afterward. Juliette squeezed her eyes shut, then checked her face in the car’s visor mirror. She’d expertly applied her makeup and wove her long mass of hair into two French braids. Aside from a heightened color in her cheeks, she looked completely normal. She was totally fine.
“Liar.” She stared at her reflection a moment longer, then shut the visor.
Last night had been entirely unexpected. At first she was game for whatever may have happened. In her living room, she’d actually wanted to kiss him again. Then when he finally did kiss her in the woods, she didn’t want it to end. And that was bad. But what happened between them in the garden was even worse than kissing. They’d talked.
Juliette pressed her lips together, frowning. They talked about the past. She even remembered her parents in the garden, back when her world was whole and happy. She remembered what it felt like before she learned that you can lose the ones you love.
She took a deep breath and straightened her spine. Better to put it all behind her. Before she left her house, she’d vowed to focus on the work that needed to get done before Romeo came back. The florist shop was finally coming together, and it was even more beautiful than she could have imagined. Romeo would see how well she’d managed everything, and her plan would fall into place. It had to. Everything else could be sorted out later. Especially her feelings for Logan.
Juliette slid out of the car. Really, how hard could it be to see him and just say “hey”? It’s not like anything major had happened between them. It was just another stupid kiss. She’d survived the first one, so this one was just another slipup. She’d thank him again for rescuing her and driving her home, then laugh it all off as a crazy experience. She was a pro at keeping things light and fun with men. Dealing with Logan was going to be a breeze.
Logan’s truck was already there. Her heart did a little backflip as she approached the back door.
“Hey.” Kat emerged with a stack of boxes. She was wearing her usual all-black clothing, black boots, and black eyeliner. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and with Hank trotting beside her, she looked like a kick-ass character from a graphic novel. Others might look at her and find her appearance unsettling, but not Juliette. There was something comforting about Kat’s presence, in the same way an heirloom blanket felt soothing or a favorite sweatshirt just felt right.
Hank gazed up at Kat in adoration, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. Today he wore a purple lace bow in his hair, and a matching jingle bell collar.
“How’s it going?” Juliette asked.
Kat dumped the boxes in the recycle bin. “Blissfully slow and quiet. There’s nothing going on.” She slapped dust off her hands and made a face. “And believe me, I couldn’t be happier.”
“More drama at Hollywood Houseboat?” Juliette followed her inside. Logan wasn’t there, which meant he was probably working on the deck. She’d missed him. Good.
“It’s insane,” Kat said. “Vespa’s been taking cooking lessons, and Mirage is furious because she keeps cooking.”
Juliette gestured to the coffeepot. “Fresh?”
“Just made it.”
“I think I love you.”
Kat shrugged. “I get that a lot.”
Juliette poured herself a cup and leaned against the counter. “So what’s wrong with cooking food?”
“It has calories, which are basically Mirage’s archnemesis. Sh
e only eats leaves and twigs. And possibly small dogs. I caught her eyeing Hank the other day, and I don’t think it had anything to do with him sleeping on her cashmere sweater.” She scooped the small dog up and gave him a kiss on the head. “Anyway, Mirage starts throwing a fit last night. Says Vespa’s trying to sabotage her girlish figure because she’s jealous. So Vespa says why would she be jealous of a stick bug, and they start fighting on the living room floor. Brock yells ‘catfight,’ and pretty soon the film crew’s getting some classic footage for the show.” Kat grimaced. “It’s like a three-ring circus in there. Unbearable.”
“That sucks.” Juliette set her cup down and grabbed an apron off a peg on the wall.
“It does. Which is why I’m always happy to come here.”
“Whenever I get all worked up or stressed out, I need to be around plants,” Juliette said, looping the apron over her head and tying it around her waist. “Being surrounded by nature makes everything better.”
“This place is definitely peaceful,” Kat agreed as she set Hank back on the floor. “Except when Logan’s prowling around outside with his power tools.”
“It has been loud lately.”
“Oh, I’m not talking about the noise. I’m talking about the view. That guy is seriously hot. And when he takes his shirt off?” She fanned herself. “Help me.”
Juliette tried to appear neutral. “I haven’t really noticed.”
“Then you need to get your eyes checked,” Kat said with a laugh. She reached into a box of dog treats on the counter and tossed one to Hank.
He caught it in midair, tail spinning in delight.
“Hey, I’m working on Saturday, right?” Kat asked.
“I hope so. Otherwise Emma and the girls will be out a runner. I don’t know how they talked me into participating in the Mud Run.” The annual Firefighters’ Mud Run was a ridiculous obstacle course of mud pits, bubble foam, and forest trails. Every year people gathered into teams to compete, and all the money went to support the Seattle Children’s Hospital.
“You gals are crazy,” Kat said, lifting her purse off the counter. “Hollywood Houseboat’s all excited to win the Mud Run. Brock’s been doing extra cross-fit training this week, and Mirage plans to eat carbs.” She paused for a moment. “Okay, I made that up. She’d never stoop that low. Not even for a children’s charity.”
“How come you’re not doing it?”
Kat snorted. “Like I need any more craziness? No thanks. You guys can all go get wild and filthy and whatever else. I’ll be right here, eating bonbons and misting the ferns, right, Hank? He thinks all humans are nuts.”
“And he’d be right.” Juliette bent to pat him on the head.
Kat opened the back door. “Gotta run. I promised I’d have him back in time for the Houseboat’s family portrait.” She made a face. “Vespa wants him in an argyle sweater with a bow tie. Do you know how hard it was to find a dog outfit like that at the last minute?”
Juliette shook her head.
“Lucky for me, that curiosity shop next door to Fairy Cakes had just what I needed. Mrs. Mooney has an entire wall dedicated to dog outfits.”
Juliette gave Hank a look of pity. “Sorry, Hank.”
As Kat turned to go, a large black crow swooped past the doorway. Kat tsked and called out, “Edgar, I told you to wait until I got off work.”
“Edgar?” Juliette walked to the door and saw the crow flying in lazy circles around the parking lot.
He let out a loud caw, followed by several squawks.
“Technically, I’m off work,” Kat called to him, reaching into her bag. “But next time at least give me a chance to get out the door, okay?” She pulled a small bag of Cheetos from her purse, and Edgar made a joyful dive past her head.
Juliette laughed. “Looks like your crow friend stuck around.”
“We’re learning to live with each other,” Kat said with a shrug. “He just needs to learn boundaries. Men—am I right?”
Juliette waved good-bye and shut the door, resting her back against it for a moment. The shop suddenly felt empty without them. She spent the next few minutes stalling, cleaning up in the back room. Wiping down the cutting counter. Arranging a vase of roses. Twice. Finally she ventured out to the front of the shop, and there he was.
Logan was clearly visible through the huge side window. He was measuring a section of paving stones, his strong hands smoothing over the dark surface. Juliette tried not to imagine what those hands could do to her, but just watching him sent shivers of pleasure rippling across her skin.
He looked up.
Their eyes met. Now she couldn’t look away, or it would seem like she was nervous. And she wasn’t nervous. Everything was totally normal.
Juliette lifted her hand mechanically and waved.
He held her gaze a moment longer, gave a tight nod, and went back to work.
She turned away. Why did she feel disappointed? What did she expect him to do, jump up and come running to her? Please. Obviously, he had no problem focusing on work. Fine, Mr. O’Connor. If you can do it, I can do it. Nothing to it.
An hour later, Juliette had sold the last arrangement of roses, labeled her latest batch of jasmine-scented bath bombs, and swept the entire shop. If she was aware of Logan’s presence outside at all times, she didn’t show it. He still hadn’t come inside to talk to her, which suited her just fine.
It was late afternoon when Juliette hefted a bucket of water from the sink. She didn’t hear the door open behind her, but she could feel Logan’s presence the moment he stepped inside. Her hand slipped on the handle of the bucket, sloshing water down the front of her thin tank top.
Lovely. He was just in time for her wet T-shirt show. She steadied the bucket on the rim of the sink, then slowly turned and set it on the cutting table near a pile of blood-red roses.
Logan stood at the other end of the table. His dark eyes roamed over her. Juliette took a deep breath and tried to ignore the spiraling heat inside her.
“So.” What should she say? How did this work again? Oh, yeah. “How’s it going out there?”
He didn’t say anything. Just stood there for a few moments, then started walking toward her.
Juliette felt a sudden twinge of alarm. If he came any closer, she couldn’t be responsible for what she’d do. Because damn it all to Hades, even though her plan was to remain calm, cool, and indifferent about this man, her body didn’t seem to be on board with it.
“Stop.” She held up a hand.
Logan ignored her. He came right up beside her, then leaned forward. “Why?”
Juliette sucked in a breath, heart thumping wildly in her chest. She could feel the warmth of his body, and she wanted to touch him again.
Logan reached out and turned on the faucet. He began washing his hands.
She let her breath out slowly. “Never mind.”
He seemed amused. “What did you think I was going to do?”
“I wasn’t sure,” she said truthfully. He was standing so close, it gave her a swooping feeling in the pit of her stomach, like she was on a wild roller coaster. She loved roller coasters. But that was neither here nor there.
“So what, am I the big bad wolf now?” he murmured, rinsing his hands.
If only you knew.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I only accost unsuspecting women in the woods. You’re safe here.”
Somehow, she didn’t quite believe it.
Customers suddenly came in through the front door. Juliette whipped out a clean apron and tied it on, sidestepping Logan.
By the time she had created four new flower arrangements, Logan’s truck was gone. He left without even saying good-bye. A heavy mantle of disappointment settled over her. What did she expect?
Chapter Nineteen
On Monday evening, Juliette dropped her keys in the vine-painted ceramic bowl near her front door and kicked off her shoes. She set the disposable phone she’d purchased on the narrow entry table. It wasn’t great, but
it would have to do until she could afford to replace the one she’d lost in the ocean.
Juliette’s stomach growled. She was starving. It had been a long day at the shop, and she’d skipped lunch. Mrs. Mooney had come in for soaps, along with her snaggle-toothed dog, Bonbon. Juliette had a soft spot for the old woman, since she’d helped the police capture Emma’s terrible ex-boyfriend a year earlier. But Mrs. Mooney could talk a blue streak, and Juliette’s nerves were already on high alert with Logan working outside. She was aware of him at all times. Since Logan had come to her house that night, she had no idea how to act around him. For the zillionth time that day, her stomach gave a nervous flutter. The more she thought about him, the more she wanted more.
“This is a bad idea,” she said out loud.
Luna padded around the corner and rubbed against her legs.
Juliette wove her hands through her hair and massaged her scalp. “I can’t stop thinking about Logan O’Connor.”
Luna gave a tiny meow.
“It’s a bad idea,” Juliette repeated. “Very bad. It complicates things, and I don’t like complications. What am I doing?” She stared down at her cat.
Luna blinked.
“I should quit now, before this situation gets any weirder. Right?”
Luna jumped onto the entry table and sniffed Juliette’s phone.
“You’re no help,” Juliette muttered, scratching the cat behind the ears. “Did you at least cook me dinner? I’m starving. When are you going to start using those recipe books in the kitchen cupboard?” For years, a small collection of her mother’s cookbooks sat on the shelf above the stove, gathering dust. But Juliette had never been that interested in cooking. She knew how to make salads and sandwiches, and she knew how to order pizza. That was good enough.
Luna nudged Juliette’s phone with her nose.
“Crazy cat.” Juliette ran her hand down Luna’s sleek back. “I’m not ordering pizza again. I’ve had it three times this past week.”
Luna twitched her tail and meowed loudly. She nudged the phone again.
“What is it?”
The phone began to ring.