Chapter 7

 

~ ALLIE ~

 

 

My life has generally moved at the pace of one of those slow-moving vehicles I always get stuck behind in a no passing zone when I’m late for something. So it’s no wonder that my hands are shaking as I sign the documents in front of me.

In the past eight hours, I’ve vacated my condo, signed it over to a couple who commutes to Dayton, and right now I’m making an offer on the foreclosure that could change my life forever.

I’m not sure if I’m nervous, excited, or terrified.

Kim is waiting downstairs in a rented van with all my worldly possessions, including my newest fosters: a German shepherd, a hyperactive Welsh corgi, and a Siberian husky who sheds enough fur to stuff a pillow every thirty minutes. I keep this in mind as I scan the fine print of my offer, trying to read as quickly as possible so I don’t jeopardize a friendship that I can’t imagine living without.

My condo sold as quickly as my real estate agent said it would. I had two offers in the first week and one was slightly over asking price. I was doing my happy dance till this morning when a thick lump of sadness settled into my throat as I signed the closing papers.

That little one-bedroom was my last gift from my father. Not literally, but I still think of it that way. When my mother remarried a year after my dad’s death, she decided to give me a chunk of money from his estate. I think it was a guilt gift, since she must have known how I disapproved of her marrying again so quickly.

It’s not that I dislike her husband—my stepdad, though I never call him that. I just felt like she swept Dad’s memory under the rug so quickly and that hurts. I don’t want to forget him.

So I bought the condo here in his hometown with the money my mom gave me. I know he would have loved knowing I settled here in Newton’s Creek. And if he could look down on me right now, signing these papers to hopefully open a rescue kennel, I know he’d be smiling.

My heart is pounding as I walk outside to see Kim’s exasperated expression awaiting me in the front seat of the van. It’s hot, but she can only have the windows half open because the corgi has made it apparent she’d have no qualms about jumping out of the car and leading us on a chase. The little short-legged dog could probably outrun a greyhound, paws-down.

“Sorry it took so long.” I shoot her an apologetic look as I slide into the passenger seat without letting the dogs escape. I had wanted to unpack the van at Logan’s before going to the real estate office, but the closing ran a little later than expected, and I really wanted to get my offer into the bank before the end of the business day.

“No problem,” she says not so convincingly, putting the van in reverse. Suddenly tapping the brakes, she pauses to pick some fur out of her eyes and then pulls out of the parking lot, shaking her head.

The drive to Logan’s townhomes is brief, but we barely say a word. I know she doesn’t like the idea of me moving next door to him for free. “Nothing is free,” Kim told me when I mentioned his offer. “There are always strings attached.”

What’s funny is that half of me is hoping for those strings. He hasn’t even seemed slightly interested in me since that night we met, and I certainly can’t blame him. I came across as some kind of freak the way I deserted him that night, and then a complete bitch to follow-up the next day.

If I were smart, I’d push from my mind any trace of hope that I might get to touch those washboard abs again.

But if I were smart, I wouldn’t have just sold a perfectly decent condo on the off-chance of snagging a dilapidated kennel.

Logan steps out of his front door just as our wheels hit the noisy gravel leading up to the townhomes.

“Good God,” Kim mutters at the sight of him in his t-shirt. He’s dirty in the sexiest way possible, his tight shirt covered in sweat and some kind of grit, and a fresh tan glowing on his shredded arms.

He lopes over to our car window. “Just pull to the side of the building, if you don’t mind,” he says pointing. “I’m in the middle of putting pavers in the walkway. I’ll help you unload everything.”

“The pavers look great,” I notice as I step onto a completed portion of a tidy path leading up to his door.

“You like them?”

“Love them.” I glance at Kim who looks a little pale as she steps out of the van. I can’t blame her. We just don’t see many men who look like they’ve stepped off the cover of Men’s Fitness. “Do you remember Kim from the adoption event?”

“Of course.” He extends his hand. “I’m Logan. Thanks for all the work you do for the dogs.”

“Mmhm,” Kim murmurs, seemingly incapable of forming full sentences just yet. I know how she feels.

“I wish you’d have let me help you load the van,” he tells me as I hook up the dogs to the leashes. “I was free all day.”

My gaze moves from him, to the new pavers, and back to him. “Doesn’t look like you were very free today. Besides, I really don’t have much stuff.” It’s true. My furniture is pretty spare. I never got around to buying “Big Girl” furniture after college.

“Want to let the dogs run out back while we unload?” he asks.

My heart picks up its pace at the word “we.” I love how he just assumes he will help. “Sounds great. But Kim and I can really do it on our own.”

I feel her eyes burrowing into my side from the glare I see in my peripheral vision.

“We’d love your help,” she quickly corrects me.

 I step into the house to lead the dogs to the fenced-in backyard that overlooks Newton’s Creek. A smile inches upward on my face, looking at the crisply painted walls and crown molding. A fireplace similar to the one I saw in Logan’s house is on the front wall. This townhome doesn’t have all the built-in bookshelves that Logan’s had, but I sure can’t complain. I’ve never lived in a place so elegantly adorned. The house I grew up in was okay, but a cookie cutter 1970s split foyer that had only been updated once in the early 80s can’t really stand up to a renovation like this.

I take the dogs through to the kitchen and can’t resist running my hand across the granite countertop. My eyes soak in the sight of stainless steel appliances, even though I’m not much of a cook.

As I set the dogs free from their leashes in the newly sodded backyard, I say a silent prayer they won’t dig any holes.

I don’t care what Kim says. Living here is like a gift, and I still feel a pang of guilt for not paying him.

Still… he offered. And I’d be a fool to refuse. As Cass told me, if the whole deal goes south, I can always pack up my meager belongings, throw my mattress on her floor, and live with her.

Logan enters carrying my writing desk. It’s not huge, but I still love the sight of his muscles bulging as he carries it. Carefully he moves it through the doorway without marring the new trim along the wall.

“Do you want this upstairs?”

“No. Right there is fine.” I can’t see the point in getting too settled here. Hopefully, I’ll be moving out in a month or two. Maybe even less if I get lucky and the bank doesn’t move at a snail’s pace.

Logan heads back into the van and within seconds he’s in the doorway again with a box. “This one is marked ‘samples,’” he says. “Where do you want it?”

A surge of heat touches my cheeks as I see this man with his burly arms wrapped around every type of sex toy in my line. I’m tempted to tell him I want it upstairs in the bedroom along with him, naked. “In the coat closet,” I say forcefully instead.

Cass walks in behind him. “Hey, hon. Thought I’d stop by after shift and help you unpack.” She does a double-take at the sight of Logan holding my samples box. “Well, you’re just about every fantasy I’ve ever had right now,” she says, batting the false eyelashes she must have left on from her work shift. Her makeup is heavier than usual and she still has sparkles in her hair from her Buckeye Princess costume.

Logan looks flummoxed. “Pardon me?”

She’s still grinning from ear to ear. “If you can handle the contents of that box as easily as the box itself, I’ll make myself free tonight and every night for the next three months.”

I expel a breath, rushing to take the box from Logan before the bottom drops out of it and fifty-five vibrators scatter on the ground.

“Watch it, Cass,” I warn. Clearly she assumes that I’ve told him about my second job. Call me a private person, but I really don’t like sharing that information with men even though Cass insists it could only help my nonexistent sex life.

Logan gives a shake of his head, refusing to give up the box, and instead moves it to the coat closet himself. He’s returning the playful smile that Cass is shooting him, and I’m insanely jealous. “I have no idea what you mean, but I’m pretty sure I’d enjoy whatever it is that’s going through your head right now,” he counters back to her.

She tosses her head back and laughs, her platinum blonde hair flowing over her shoulders like she’s in slow motion. My hair, thin as it is, wouldn’t move like that if I used a gallon of those hair products I see on infomercials at 4 a.m.

“Those boxes,” Cass begins. “That’s where Allie keeps her secret stash. Maybe if you’re lucky, she’ll share.”

His supremely remarkable ass is pointed in our direction as he bends to put it in the closet. So he’s not looking long enough for me to go over to my so-called friend and smack her on her skinny, sparkly arm. “Shut up, Cass.”

Her eyes widen and I see she’s still clueless that I haven’t told him. Hello? She knows me. She should know better.

As Logan turns, his one eyebrow is raised slightly. “Do I dare even ask?”

Of course I have to tell him now because he is probably picturing illegal drugs or something in that box.

I dart a look at Cass. “Cass, go. Make yourself useful. There’s a box outside with your name on it.” I inhale. “Logan, those are just my samples for work.”

“Oh.” He gives a nod and starts to leave. It bothers me because I really don’t want him thinking that I’m lying to him, especially since he’s been so nice to me. “Aren’t you going to ask what I sell?”

He turns. “Your business. Not mine.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you thinking I’ve got something illegal in that box. The way Cass was talking—”

His laughter cuts me off.

“What’s so funny?”

“Allie, you really don’t strike me as the type to do anything illegal.”

I should be relieved by that statement, but somehow I’m insulted. Do I really look that boring? I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the living room window.

Yeah, I really do.

I shrug. “Okay, if you really don’t care.”

One eye narrows slightly as half his mouth eases up into a smirk. “Well, since you clearly want me to know, I was picturing you selling medical equipment before. But the way your friend there was joking...”

I can’t resist a snort as I cut him off. “Medical equipment,” I repeat. “I have to tell Kim and Cass that one.”

“I guessed wrong, then?”

“Uh, yeah.” I step over to the box. “I work for a multi-level marketing company. I sell my stuff at parties that other people host. I get a chunk of whatever I sell, plus if I can get anyone to sign up as a rep, I get a chunk of everything they sell till forever.”

He nods, obviously familiar with the idea. “Oh. I had a girlfriend who used to host a lot of those kinds of parties selling all sorts of crap.” He winces slightly. “No offense.”

“No offense taken.”

He laughs. “So what is it you sell, anyway? Makeup? Jewelry?”

Frowning, I pop open the box and hand him a BestMan Classic Model #8800. Some things are better seen than said.

“Sex toys,” he says, staring at the vibrator in his hand before a laugh escapes him.

Cass walks in again, this time carrying a box labeled “bathroom,” and sees Logan armed and ready. “Should I leave you two alone?” she asks with a grin.

I glare at her. “Upstairs bathroom,” I tell her as I read the box, and she saunters up the staircase giggling. My eyes then meet Logan’s which are filled with laughter.

“Alexandra, you are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

I take my sample from him and put it back in the box. “Yep. So go ahead, get in all your digs. Laugh at my expense. There’s not a joke I haven’t heard, believe me.”

“I’m not going to laugh,” he says, and I angle him a look. “Anymore. I won’t laugh anymore.”

“Yeah, well, I’m laughing all the way to the bank. I make more doing this than with my assistant job, and there just aren’t a ton of jobs out here in the middle of nowhere. Do you know how much I have to fork over in vet bills for all my fosters?”

His eyes are locked on mine with an expression I’m not really familiar with. Is it… admiration?

“Good for you, Allie,” he replies with a grin.

I look at him, suspicious.

“What? I’m serious. Good for you,” he reiterates. “You know what you need, and you find a way to get it.”

“Thanks,” I say, for lack of knowing what else to say. His response wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. Then again, nothing about Logan is ever what I’m expecting.