The Conundrum of Collies (Love & Pets #6) - A.G. Henley Page 0,30

stayed best friends. Why would Emmy be any different?

“Well, good night.” Spontaneously, I lean down to hug him.

Logan stiffens. Hugs are not our normal nighttime routine, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, after a slight hesitation, he pulls me into his body. Heat flashes between us.

When I say heat, I mean flames rush from my knees, up my inner thighs, and into my stomach. The sensation singes my lungs and licks my throat. I might as well have fallen into a burning ring of fire like Johnny Cash. Or a pool of molten lava. Or something equally hot but a lot more pleasant.

For a second, I think Logan might kiss me. Do I want him to? Do I not want him to?

Confusion sweeps through me. I live with this man. We’ve spent hours and hours a week together since we were kids. I know him as well as I know the contours of my own belly button or the feel of the breath moving in and out of my body. And yet I’ve never felt this way when hugging him before.

With a rush of equal parts relief and sorrow, I step away. Logan’s arms stay around me for a second, then drop. When our eyes meet, I see something in his gaze. Something . . . hungry . . . that only adds to the confusion. I turn away.

“Goodnight.” I choke the word out.

Calling to Bean, I hurry to the kitchen, throw open the door, and step outside with her, grateful for the refreshing Colorado evening air. Taking deep, full breaths to calm my racing pulse, I pace around as she does her business.

What was that? And how do I feel about it? Thoughts, feelings, questions, emotions roll through me as I walk back and forth across the small patio. I don’t dare walk outside of the pool of light on the patio and into the dark yard. I haven’t picked up poop in a while.

Bean finishes up and sits by the door, waiting for me. From Rosa’s yard, I can hear the soft rustling and occasional cluck from the chicken coop. I need to go to the bathroom myself after my lemon water, but I’m waiting for Logan to go to bed first. I can’t face him again tonight after . . . whatever that was.

When a safe amount of time passes, I inch the back door open and listen. The living room is dark, and no sounds come from the rest of the house. I rush to my room, Bean hot on my heels, and dive into bed fully clothed.

I can’t remember the last time I felt so flustered. Well, every day I feel some level of discombobulation but this—this was something else. It was mind boggling. Body boggling, too.

Bean paws the sheets beside me to make a nest in the empty spot on my bed, then, when she has it the way she wants it, turns in a circle three times and curls up. I wonder if she’s confused, too. Usually I’d be at my desk trying to finish that one last thing that would take me until three in the morning.

Not tonight, damn it. I turn on my side, close my eyes, and will myself to fall asleep.

An hour and a half later, I’m still wide awake. I can’t forget the feeling of Logan’s arms around me, my ear pressed to his chest, the steady beat of his heart filling my head.

And I can’t take lying here anymore, either. Time for a cup of herbal tea. Sometimes it works to help me get sleepy. Sometimes it makes me have to pee again. But I can’t lie in bed fully awake a second longer.

I pad into the kitchen and stop. A light in the living room is on, and Logan sits on the couch, head in his hands.

“Are you okay?” I whisper. I’m not sure who I’m worried about waking, other than Bean. But it’s too late and too dark to use a normal voice. I perch beside him on the couch.

He raises his head and looks at me. Quickly and fleetingly, red hot desire flares in his eyes. But it snuffs out quickly, making me wonder if I imagined it.

He jams the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. “I’m okay. What about you? Can’t sleep?”

“No. I thought I’d make some tea. Want some?”

He nods. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

I put the kettle on in the kitchen and then zip to my room to throw on