The Conundrum of Collies (Love & Pets #6) - A.G. Henley Page 0,31

a thick sweatshirt. It’s not cold in the house, but I feel like I need a layer of protection. When the tea finishes brewing, I bring the two mugs back to the couch. Logan’s upright now, but not looking at his phone or the TV. He’s sitting in the dark. I sink beside him again and hand him a mug. We sip in silence.

Normally, our silences are friendly, comfortable. Not this one. It feels awkward, like we’ve been arguing and haven’t yet cleared the air. I don’t like it.

After a few minutes, I work up the courage to speak. “Logan, is everything okay? Between us, I mean?”

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at me. Finally, he sags.

“Everything’s fine, Stevie.”

But I have the horrible feeling that isn’t true. We aren’t fine. Something has shifted and changed between Logan and me, and I have no idea what.

Or how to fix it.

Chapter Fourteen

Logan

I don’t see Stevie the morning after she asked if we were okay. Just as well, because I don’t trust what I’d say or do. I’m totally sleep deprived and feel like I’m walking through fog. I’ve been kicking myself all night for not taking the opportunity she offered to tell her how I feel about her now. But I’m also not sure telling her would lead to the result I want, either.

Hoping and fearing that Stevie might come out of her room, I let Bean out to the backyard and throw the frisbee for her while I drink my coffee. When she starts nosing around the fence between our backyard and Rosa’s, the disc distracts her, and she loses interest in the seductive clucking from next door.

After, I leave Bean inside and head to work, but it’s a crap day. I can’t focus. I can’t think. I want to hold Stevie again, to feel her soft hair against my chest, and listen to her even breathing as she falls asleep. Preferably in my bed or hers, but the couch will do.

Argh, this is torture. Torture. Like fingernail pulling, bottom of the feet burning, guts stretching agony. I really wanted to grab her, kiss her, and tell her I love her last night, but I was too, well, chicken.

Stevie and Bean are gone when I get home from work, but there are signs she was here all day. The kitchen is kind of a wreck. I don’t think number six on the list, keeping the house clean and organized, is going Stevie’s way so far. But I couldn’t care less.

My best friend’s disorganization and messiness is part of her creative charm. She’s a free spirit, and I love that about her. Along with almost everything else.

I eat some leftover pork and rice and meet Emmy at the Fiction Beer Company, a small brewery and taproom on Colfax Avenue. The place is open, bright, and cheery, and as good a place as any for romantic plotting.

Emmy and I had texted last night to make a plan to meet for a drink, a drink over which we agreed to brainstorm ways to make sure Jude and Stevie see that we’re the right people for them.

“We have a problem,” Emmy says as soon as I sit down at the outdoor table. Her hair’s in a ponytail, she’s wearing yoga pants and a cropped tank top with a pink sweater thing over it, and she has a half-drunk beer in front of her.

After the day I’ve had, I’d hoped for my own beer before we started talking treason, but I guess I’m out of luck. “What happened?’

“Jude asked Stevie out.”

I was lounging back in my chair, but I sit up straight at that. “Damn. I knew it. I knew he was into her.”

“He asked her to dinner, and she suggested going to an art gallery or something before.”

“Sounds like Stevie.”

Now that I’m paying attention, I see that Emmy’s eyes are red-rimmed and her face looks blotchy, like she’s been crying. I touch her hand. “I’m sorry. I know this must hurt. Doesn’t feel great for me, either.”

Truth be told, Stevie wouldn’t agree to go out with someone she didn’t have at least a speck of interest in. Which means she has a speck of interest in Jude. Fantastic.

On the other hand, I’m not giving her a chance to choose me. I was mute last night when I could have shared my feelings. But I can’t quite commit to the idea of telling Stevie I love her and want to be with her. It feels too direct.