Fighting Fate (Granton University #1)(22)

Again, he rushed when showing her how to run the cash register. She understood the hurry. She didn’t want to bottleneck the flow either, but she hoped he hadn’t been lying when he’d said they would go back over everything later, one detail at a time.

He nearly bumped into her as he spun to retrieve the next order. It was more than she could take. Jerking backward away from him, she motioned toward Ricky manning the second register.

“Why can’t he train me?”

“Uh…” Logan blinked, looking taken aback. “He hasn’t worked here very long.” When Paige just stared at him, he blew out an irritated, yet surrendering breath. “Fine. I’ll ask him.”





Chapter Ten


RICKY HAD TO BE the lamest flirt Logan had ever seen. If it had been any other situation, he would’ve laughed aloud as he watched his co-worker’s awkward attempt to put the moves on Paige Zukowski.

The lanky, pimple-faced sophomore stood entirely too close to Paige as he showed her how to work the meat slicer once the rush of customers had subsided. They didn’t serve a lot of food at the juice bar. Mostly muffins and baked goods, but they were quickly growing famous for their Deli Deluxe Sandwich, which required a lot of slicing and blade changing.

“So this little doohickey goes here.” Ricky demonstrated by showing Paige how to screw the new blade into place. “And voilà!” He flared out his hands, using an awful French accent. “Our masterpiece is complete.”

Logan arched an eyebrow, wondering if that was supposed to be funny.

Paige smiled vaguely, looking more sick to her stomach than amused by Ricky’s theatrics. “It looks…nice.”

A snort worked up Logan’s throat. He jerked his face away and covered the beginning of his laugh with a cough, surprised by how much the whole thing amused him. But her overly polite answer was just too much. Poor Ricky didn’t impress her in the least.

He wanted to snicker some dry, sarcastic crack about how Mr. Mohawk captivated all the girls with his meat slicing abilities. But Paige then flashed Ricky a genuine smile, and a fresh wave of grief gripped Logan, pulverizing his cheer to pieces.

As pathetic as he was, Ricky could still flirt with her. He could press up close to her and try with all his might to win her favor. It was a heck of a lot more than Logan could ever attempt, if he felt so inclined, which—after a brief glance her way—okay, he kind of did. Nevertheless, he could never flirt with her. In another life, he’d probably be macking all over her, busting out his mojo and—

But that Logan was long gone. Even if the situation were appropriate for him to act, he hadn’t flirted with a girl since…not for three years now. Whenever one smiled and fluttered her lashes at him these days, he usually just felt clammy and panicked. Swallowing hard, he looked away from Trace Zukowski’s little sister.

What in God’s name was wrong with him? Why didn’t she make him feel clammy and panicked? Sure, she was pretty, in an ethereal way, with her glossy dark hair and eyes against the stark contrast of her pale skin. But there were a lot of visually pleasing ladies on campus. And he hadn’t taken this kind of notice of them.

Why her?

It didn’t matter anyway. Nothing was ever going to happen there. Feeling centuries old, he rubbed his hands briskly over his face and checked the counter, wishing someone would approach and make an order already.

Where had everyone gone? It was never this slow around here.

“And now we’re ready to slice and dice.” Ricky had transformed his act into some kind of chef impersonation.

Unable to stop himself, Logan glanced over and immediately spotted what Ricky had failed to show Paige.

“You forgot the guard,” he groused under his breath.

Paige glanced at him, her beautiful dark eyes instantly narrowing. “What?”

He gulped and pulled his attention away from her to Ricky, since Ricky had stopped talking to look at him too. After clearing his throat, he raised his voice. “You forgot to show her how to put on the safety guard.”

Ricky stared at him blankly. “Huh?”

Was he serious? With a sigh of disgust, Logan marched over and yanked up the plastic shield lying forgotten on the sidebar. “The safety guard,” he repeated.

Paige shifted a step away from him, nearly bumping into Ricky. Logan barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He’d like to see how close she cuddled to Mohawk when he got her finger sliced off because of his neglect.

“I never use that thing,” Ricky said, making a face at the guard as if it was contaminated. “It just gets in the way. And I’ve never gotten cut.”

Logan opened his mouth to argue. But a ding came from the counter by his register. Three people stood in line, waiting for service. Of course. Now they showed up.

Grinding his molars, Logan reminded himself she had asked for Ricky to train her. Whatever came from it could be on her conscience. Putting his back to them, he returned to the counter.

“What can I get for you?”





“And that’s a wrap. Let’s clock out.”

At Ricky’s announcement, Paige frowned, sending a short a glance away from her trainer and across the shop to Logan. With his long sleeves rolled up to his biceps, he’d buried his hands elbow deep into a sink full of sudsy water. She watched the muscles in his back stretch under his shirt as he scrubbed. Blinking, she tore her gaze away and focused once again on Ricky as he hefted a book bag onto his shoulder.