“It’s fine.” My interruption is hurried. “Don’t worry about it.”
Logan studies me and I know he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t.
“Next time, you’re making me breakfast, though,” I say, holding my breath after I speak. I’ve officially made it clear that there’s going to be anext time, and for me, that’s about as much as I can handle right now.
“It’s a deal.”
Logan’s smile is broad as we make our way out of the bedroom toward the front door. We both pause at the sight of my skinny-heeled boots on the mat.
“This might not be a fashion statement, but they’re all I’ve got.”
“I’ll grab you a pair of socks and carry you to the car. You can drive home without shoes.”
With that decided, Logan retreats to grab socks, and then proceeds to carry me to the car once I put them on.
From the vantage point of his very strong arms, and against his very hard chest—both of which I’m trying like hell to ignore so I don’t cream all over his clean sweatpants—the house is even cuter in the daytime than it was at night. Logan did a hell of a job with it.
Our ride to the bowling alley is quiet. I know I’m studiously avoiding analyzing what the hell just happened, and he seems to be doing the same. But strangely, the silence isn’t awkward or heavy. It’s ... comfortable.
We reach the bowling alley a few minutes later to find only three cars in the parking lot, including my rental. Logan pulls up next to mine. A red car is a few spaces away, parked with its front end toward us.
“Is that guy asleep in the front seat?”
Logan is out of the truck and running toward the car before I can open my door. He bangs on the window and yells at the guy inside, but there’s no movement that I can see from here.
“Jeff, open this fucking door. Wake the fuck up.”
When there’s still no response, Logan runs back to the truck, but bypasses the cab in favor of the bed. He’s got some kind of bar in his hand, and I shrink back as he shatters the back window of the car.
Oh shit. This isn’t good.
I grab my phone instinctively before I jump out of the truck. The sharp gravel stings the soles of my feet as I run toward Logan.
Somehow he already unlocked the driver’s side door and has it open when he yells to me.
“Call 911! We need an ambulance right now.”
Heart hammering and hand shaking, I do as he says, offering up the limited information I have to the operator. She keeps asking questions, but I answer most of them the same way—I don’t know.
Logan pulls the man out of the car to lay on the ground before performing CPR like a seasoned pro.
“Any pulse?” I ask, because the operator keeps asking me.
Logan shakes his head, and I relay the information.
“They’re on their way.”
He continues compressions until I can tell he’s tiring. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but it can’t be rocket science. I shove the phone in my pocket and drop to my knees on the ground beside him.
“My turn.”
Logan nods, and I take over.
We switch back and forth for the longest minutes of my life. Sweat is dripping down both our faces, but I’m terrified it’s a lost cause.
When the EMTs arrive, siren blaring, we move out of the way.
One EMT looks up at Logan as he checks for a pulse. “It’s there. It’s thready and easy to miss, but it’s there. You might’ve just saved this guy’s life.”