Bad Intentions (Bad Love 2)

“Nothing. You two just sound like an old married couple.”

“He’s not my type,” Adrian says, completely unfazed by her comment. “You, on the other hand…”

“No harassing the employees,” I cut in.

“Right. I’ll leave that to the boss,” Adrian says with a smirk. Logan doesn’t seem to be offended by his insinuation. “I just came by to let you know I’m going back to Cactus Heights tonight. Don’t look so sad,” he says at my relieved expression. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Can’t wait,” I say in a flat voice, unenthused. “Get a hotel next time.”

“Why, you don’t want to cuddle again?” he asks, his face turning down into a fake pout. “I bet your girl will keep this Arizona boy warm at night.”

“Only if you put out.” Logan grins, playing along, ignoring the fact that he referred to her as my girl.

Adrian’s eyes widen, and then he throws his head back and howls with laughter. Loudly. “Oh, shit,” he says between laughter. “I think I just found my soulmate.”

“Don’t encourage him.”

Once Adrian leaves, we’re alone again, but the moment is gone. Cordell and Matty show up shortly after, and soon the shop is busy as fuck. I hear Logan’s phone ring a couple of times, only to see her reject the call both times with a distressed expression on her face. I assume she silences her phone, because I don’t hear it ring again. I tell myself to mind my own business. She’s not my girl—not my responsibility. This girl is obviously complicated. The last thing I need is to involve myself in someone else’s mess. Dealing with my own shit is a full-time job.

I spend the whole morning on mindless tattoos—butterflies, hearts, matching BFF tattoos, and bullshit like that. One guy came in and got his daughter’s name. I don’t have anything against those kinds of tattoos, but they don’t exactly get my creative juices flowing. My neck is still fucked, made worse by hunching over clients all day, so it’s probably a good thing that I don’t have anything too detailed on the schedule. Logan does her job well, making sure everyone is taken care of and everything stays clean. I try to ignore the way her ass looks in her tight jeans and the way everyone’s eyes seem to follow her every move.

Around lunchtime, Sutton walks through the door toting a plastic bag of something that smells amazing.

“Hungry?” she asks Logan, holding up the bag.

“Starved.”

“I’m stealing the new girl back,” Sutton informs me. Logan looks over at me in question.

“Take your break.”

“Does anyone need anything?” Everyone declines, and then they head toward the back.

“Maybe you do know what you’re doing,” Cord says, twisting back and forth on his stool. “I like having her around.”

“Told you.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t want her, though.”

Yeah, yeah. It also doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it.

“Find something to do.”

The rest of the day is more of the same. The evening gets even busier, and by the time I have a chance to come up for air, Lo’s already gone home for the day. After lunch, she mentioned that she had to work a full day next door tomorrow, so she won’t be coming in. I tell myself the disappointment that I feel has everything to do with the fact that she’s a big help around here, and nothing to do with how I like seeing her here, in my shop, my space, hanging around my friends. Because that would be bad.

Three days passed without seeing Lo, unless you count seeing her go in and out of Blackbear. The third day was Monday, the only day we’re closed, so I didn’t see her yesterday, either. The guys at the shop have been pouting about her not being here, and I’m not convinced that it’s only because she makes things easier. Lo has an addictive personality. With her big smile and sarcastic sense of humor, everyone gravitates toward her.

I’ve been distracted and moodier than usual. This time of year always gets to me, but this thing with Lo is fucking with my head. I vacillate between fantasizing about fucking her on every surface of my shop and worrying about her. Then, I get pissed at myself for worrying, and in turn, pissed at her for making me worry. Like I said, it’s fucking me up.

I was up all night sketching, trying to relax enough to fall asleep to no avail. Eventually, I said fuck it and decided to come in early, once again. I managed to catch a glimpse of Lo this morning as she arrived for her shift next door. Her hair was up high in that messy ponytail, and she was sporting those tight, black leggings that I love so much, a thin flannel over her work shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes. Doesn’t this chick own a jacket? It’s like forty degrees, and only getting colder.

By the time her shift is over next door, it’s almost four o’clock. She must’ve ditched her work shirt, because now her flannel is buttoned up, showing off milky-white tits. Matty gets to her first, greeting her with a bear hug, lifting her off her feet. She squeals and smacks his shoulders to set her down.

“Miss me?” she teases.

“No one makes coffee like you do.”

“You guys have a Keurig.”