Page 80 of That Last Secret
Just as I’m about to close up my books to get a shower and some coffee, I hear a toilet flush, and my fight-or-flight kicks into high gear.
My nervous system acts without thinking when I grab a notebook from my desk and slowly leave my bedroom. I creep down the hall to where the light shines under the bathroom door.
I’m halfway down the hall when the light turns off. I hold my breath and watch as the door swings open. That’s when I lunge for the attack. My notebook makes contact repeatedly, and every ounce of energy I have is coming out with every swing.
“Emiline,” Logan shouts.
I stop what I’m doing, stammering backward until my back hits the wall. “Logan, what the hell are you doing here?” I snap.
“I never left.” He shrugs casually. “And what the hell kind of help would that flimsy little notebook be if I was an actual intruder?”
I lift the beaten notebook. “It isnotflimsy.”
Logan rips it from my hand and shakes it like a soft, floppy paperback book. “See?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Fine. I didn’t know what to grab, and that was the first thing my eyes landed on before I came out here to murder my intruder.”
“You weren’t going to murder me with that.” He smirks.
“I could have.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” he states firmly. “But now that I’ve witnessed whatever the hell that was, we really need to get you into the boxing ring. Stat.”
“I don’t need any more classes,” I say before turning to walk away. “School, boxing, cooking, I don’t want any of it.”
“You need cooking lessons, too?” Logan gasps, following me down the hall. “My lord, Em.”
“I don’t, for your information,” I tell him over my shoulder as I enter the kitchen and make a beeline for the coffee pot. “I’m a great cook.”
“Buttered pasta doesn’t count.”
“How do you know that’s my go-to meal?” I ask him, putting a pod into the machine and pressing start.
“Based on the way your pantry and refrigerator are stocked.”
I turn around to give him my best version of scolding eyes, but everything I wanted to say is completely gone.
How did I not notice Logan was shirtless when he walked out of the bathroom?
I have to blink back the look on my face, because there’s no doubt he noticed me gaping at him.
“What time is your exam?” he asks casually, pulling his shirt over his head.
“I… uh—what?” I stutter.
“Your exam, Emiline,” he repeats. “What time do you have to be there?”
I glance over at the clock on my microwave, relieved I have some time before I need to leave. “I don’t have to be there until nine.”
Logan looks from me to my coffee pot and back to me before covering his mouth with his hand. The crinkle around his eyes tells me he’s laughing.
“Is my hair that messy?” I ask, reaching for the bun on my head to feel how out of place it is.
He shakes his head. “What is it with you and making a mess with coffee?”
Crossing my arms over my chest. “Excuse me?”
He gestures to the machine sitting on the counter behind me. I turn to look and that’s when I see my coffee spilled all over the counter because I didn’t remember to put an actual mug there.