Just Don't Fall (Sweater Weather, #1; Appies, #1)

by Emma St. Clair

My strategy was inspired by the Savannah Bananas baseball team and their Fans First philosophy—but tweaked to work for an official AHL team.

No—my crush on hockey’s beautiful bad boy began on a typical Tuesday night fifteen years ago when he shared a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie with me and told my brother to stop being a jerk.

“Well, well, well,” Logan says. “If it isn’t little Peter Parker, all grown up.”

She was always overflowing with energy and big ideas, like some kind of fiery woodland sprite fueled by straight espresso.

Parker is nothing short of stunning, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around the shift from my best friend’s adorably dorky little sister to … this.

She laughs then, which was my goal, and I catch a glimpse of the girl I remember. If Parker wasn’t laughing, she was smiling. Always. She was a compact ball of sunshine who drove away the constant storm cloud I lived under. For a while.

She smells like cinnamon and cookies and something familiar that hits me hard. The word that comes to mind is home. She smells like home.

The only reason I refrained was because the breadsticks were fantastic. Aaron Wagner isn’t even worth a good breadstick to the eye.

“Can we talk about something more pleasant, please? Like inflation?”

But trying to tell my older brother anything is like trying to teach a cement block to fetch and roll over. Not happening.

Dear door, I was wrong to reprimand and criticize you. You have given me this beautiful gift, and I shall forever be grateful.

While I’ve been focused on things like Logan’s hand cupping the back of my head and his stubble on my cheek, somehow I missed the very pertinent fact that my hand snuck its way underneath his shirt like a little thief. And my hand is not passively resting on but actively stroking his six pack. Or is it eight? Definitely an eight-pack.

The gasp i just let out...

“It’s short for Evil Demon Spawn,”

I frown, wondering what’s in the books that wouldn’t be family friendly.

“Her name is Ivy,” Felix says. “Your library has a name?” I remember something Alec said the night before at the bar and laugh. “The guys think Ivy is your secret hook-up.” Felix only smiles. “I know. She’s very convenient for getting me out of things I don’t want to do. Ivy needs me to spend a lot of time with her.”

Thats GENIUS

Getting Logan to talk about himself was always like trying to pull teeth … from an angry dragon using a pair of chopsticks while wearing mittens.

Oh, I NEED Logan.

I also like to keep things like that on hand just in case a little light blackmail is needed for any reason.

I wave a hand. “Don’t care.” Oh, I care. A lot.

Good. That makes for less people I need to murder.

“Get out here, Pete. You wanted to play hockey? Let’s play hockey.”

“Guys have it a little easier. Less decision fatigue with a suit.”

My Parker? He may not have told me I look beautiful, but this is somehow ten million times better.

Logan frowns. “You’re not a pawn, Parker.” Be still, my swooning heart. I think I need to raise the bar for what inspires swooning. Not being a pawn should be the baseline of common decency.

Men and their stupid battles of the handshakes. Can’t we all just get along? Can’t we???

Maybe he has three brain cells.

Logan looks downright murderous now, which makes me feel all warm and happy. Guess I’m into homicidal urges now.

But then he drops his hand to my calf again, and all is right with my world.

“What did surprise me was hearing your mom and Brandon agree with him.”

No )):

This is either the best or worst idea I’ve ever had. Ask me again tomorrow.

Newsflash: Logan Barnes thinks I’m hot!!!!

Parker is worth trying for, worth trying to figure out all these complications.

“Because if you were mine, I’d be sure everyone knows it. There would be no question in anyone’s mind.”

I feel like an idiot, but Parker beams. Worth it.

“We’re not done yet,” he says, leading me next door to Book Smart, which is, in my opinion, the best independent book shop in the state. “We’re going to the bookstore?” I ask in a hushed whisper. “If that’s okay?”

“But any man who takes his date to a bookstore and does all this is worth it.”

“Maybe it’s not too much. Maybe you’ve just grown used to not enough.”

If I didn’t already fully belong to this woman, I do now.

This bears an eerie similarity to Michael Scott’s proposal to Holly. Could it be?

“Good. Because I’ve waited my whole life for you, Logan, and I’m about all out of patience.”