Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Now, if I ever made it to step two, I could really celebrate. Maybe with a brownie. Or four. My mouth watered at the thought, and I pushed myself a little farther, picking up the speed with a renewed energy this section did everything to smother.
“Delaney!” Quinn hollered from the entryway behind me.
“Yeah?” I called over my shoulder.
“I need you.”
I chuckled to myself. “I’m a little busy, can it wait?”
“Nope. Absolutely not.”
I huffed, eying the box filled to the brim with what used to be beautiful works of art—leather and binding and page upon page of words—now a pile of crumbling, unreadable, muck. Hefting the box onto my hip, I made my way to where Quinn hovered in the entryway, a smirk on her lips.
I arched a brow at her. “Lock yourself out of the system again?” I teased as I moved past her.
“Nope,” she said from my side as she followed me back to the front desk. “Special delivery,” she whispered in my ear.
“You are perfectly capable of handling—”
“Not this one,” she cut me off.
I nearly dropped the massive box as I rounded the corner.
There, at my front desk, stood Logan freaking Ward. Like my thoughts had conjured him from thin air. A pair of athletic pants hugged his strong legs, and a skin-tight thermal covered his muscled chest. I swallowed hard, tightening my grip on the box.
“See,” Quinn said, nudging me.
Her voice drew Logan’s attention, his dark eyes sparking as they locked on me. Then he eyed the box, and in two blinks, he’d spanned the distance between us.
“Let me take that for you,” he said, arms outstretched.
I turned the box out of his reach. “I’ve got it,” I said, hustling behind my desk and setting it down. “But thanks.” I’d have to haul it to my car later to take it to recycling, but he didn’t need to know that.
He pursed his lips before resuming his lean against my desk.
“So?” I asked, eying the thick book he’d left on the counter. The one I’d told him to read. The one he’d bet me my phone number he wouldn’t like it.
A muscle in his jaw ticked, his lips pressed in a line. “I hate…” he sighed, raking his fingers through that mop of dark hair.
My heart sank at hate, my shoulders dropping. I was certain that would be the book for him—
“That I can’t tell you I hated it,” he finally finished, blowing out a breath like simply thinking about lying gave him physical strain.
Well, that’s adorable.
He tossed his hands in the air. “I loved it,” he admitted, shaking his head. “Started it on the plane, then finished it on the way back.”
I beamed, my smile unstoppable as I clapped my hands together. “Yay!” I cheered. “I knew you would love it.”
He leaned against the counter, those dark eyes locking on mine. “How did you know that? I told you, I’ve never been into reading.”
I smirked, shrugging. “It’s my superpower.”
That and his explanation for movie preferences had told me all I needed to know.
He laughed, the sound surprising and free, and it tickled my skin. The laughter quickly died, his face falling. “I kind of do hate the book, though,” he said, and I tilted my head. “Because I loved it, I don’t get your phone number.”
I adjusted my glasses, narrowing my gaze as I searched for surface-level interest in his eyes—the look I’d seen countless times that shouted you’re new and shiny, and I’ve always had the librarian fantasy…
I found nothing but genuine disappointment, and perhaps a bit of…loneliness? I could only recognize the semi-hollow look because I saw it in the mirror nearly every morning. Not that loneliness was bad…it wasn’t. It was a far cry better than the opposite—falling for the wrong person and having him crush your soul.
Still, there was something about Logan that called to me, made me want to dig deeper and uncover the source of pain behind those luscious eyes.
Then it dawned on me—what his look really shouted.
Friend.
He needed a friend.
My heart warmed at the thought, and I mustered up a genuine smile. “Well,” I said, leaning forward. “You can’t have my number. Those were the rules you set.”
He nodded, waiting.
“But,” I continued. “You can take me to dinner. If you want?” The last part came out in a tangle of sudden and unexpected nerves. “As friends,” I clarified, probably a little too quickly.
Quinn audibly huffed behind me, but I did my best to ignore her.
A slow, easy grin shaped Logan’s lips. “Dinner. Friends. Sounds absolutely perfect.”
“Great,” I said, searching for something to look at on my desk, anything to keep me from looking at that mouth of his. “I’m free tonight?”
“Are you?” he teased, clearly noting how all my statements sounded like questions at the moment.
I blamed him for my sudden inability to speak properly. Friends or no, he was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. Surely, he was used to this kind of response from women. My stomach turned with the thought of just how many there had to have been—or currently were—in his life.