Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela Read Online Free Page B

dozens
    of steps that ran alongside it; he swiftly chose the steps and, ignoring
    the late July heat, darted up them.
    Upon reaching the landing that was level with the repair shop,
    Logan was amazed to see a man standing on the top railing. He was
    precariously balanced on the pipe rail and had a hand shielding eyes
    that were fixed on a spot across the horizon. The dark-haired man
    looked down at him, and Logan was caught by a flash of dazzling
    white, a mesmerizing smile that lit up an angular face dominated by
    deep-set, brown eyes and strong, masculine brows.
    The stranger didn‘t seem the least bit embarrassed by Logan‘s
    sudden appearance; his smile only widened as he said, ―Great view of
    The Mon from here.‖
    Feeling suddenly incoherent, Logan croaked, ―The river?‖
    ―Yeah. I love it. Love ‘em all, really. Allegheny best, though.‖
    Logan couldn‘t quite work up the nerve to debate the matter, only
    managing to dart the occasional glance at this fervent river devotee
    while asking, ―Why‘s that?‖
    ―Grew up in Kittanning and Freeport—got Allegheny water in my
    veins.‖ He finally jumped down from his perch and motioned to the
    steps that continued on, climbing upwards to a few houses wedged into
    the side of the hill. ―Guess I was in your way. Sorry ‘bout that.‖
    Logan peeped back up at the man from under his baseball cap.
    ―No… I‘m… I‘m meetin‘ someone here.‖
    The smile disappeared suddenly, and a puzzled crease marred his
    forehead as he asked incredulously, ―Wait a minute. Are you Crane?‖

    Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela
    19

    It took him a few confused seconds before he could even claim
    his own name. ―Yeah… Logan Crane. That‘s me.‖
    ―Nick Zales,‖ was offered back along with an extended hand. It
    looked like he wanted to say more, judging from the mouth that opened
    and closed several times, but nothing escaped beyond those two
    syllables.
    Logan shook the proffered hand, wondering how the pot-bellied
    bureaucrat he‘d been expecting had inexplicably turned into a striking
    man about his own age. There was no sign of a suit. Instead Logan was
    disconcerted to notice a thin blue T-shirt playing over a muscled chest
    before sliding into snug Levi‘s covering legs even longer than his own.
    His discomfort was hardly diminished by the fact that Zales
    seemed equally startled by his own appearance. He briefly debated
    asking the counselor what he‘d found so surprising but quickly decided
    against it. I probably don’t wanta hear the answer to that.

    WHEN Nick recovered from the shock, his first coherent thought was:
    I am going to kill Trudy Gerard! As he led his brand-new volunteer
    into the garage, Nick fumed to himself, Why didn’t she tell me this guy
    was fucking gorgeous?
    A few deep breaths and Nick cooled off enough to admit that a lot
    of the fault was his own. Going on what Trudy had told him about her
    patient, he‘d developed such a clear and concrete picture of Logan
    Crane that it had never occurred to Nick that he might not find a
    hulking, belligerent, knuckle-dragger waiting at Dave‘s shop.
    Okay—so what if he’s a shy, muscular piece of mouth-watering
    male? Just proof that this ugly book sure has one pretty cover. Come
    on, Nick, remember what else he is—a goddamned abuser.
    Nick tried to distract himself by being briskly business-like. He
    turned to Logan, noticing that he‘d finally removed his sunglasses, but
    the sky-blue eyes they‘d been shielding flitted around the garage, never
    resting anywhere for long. Nick‘s voice echoed around the space
    slightly as he explained, ―So, we‘ll have three gir—women in the
    group. None of them know the first thing about cars, by the way.‖
    20
    Felicia Watson

    ―What am I gonna show ‘em on—that?‖ Logan stopped his
    pacing across the oil-stained concrete floor long enough to point to a
    car hiding under a canvas tarp in the corner.
    ―No, that‘s an old