"Logan," I correct, finding myself smiling despite the knot still sitting beneath my ribs. "Just Logan is fine."
"Logan," she repeats softly, and something about the way my name sounds in her voice makes me stand a little straighter.
She waits expectantly, and I realize I haven't actually ordered anything. I'm just standing here, staring at her like an idiot.
"Are you alright?" she asks, tilting her head slightly. "You seem..." She doesn't finish, but her warm brown eyes are surprisingly perceptive.
"Ex-girlfriend," I admit, the words tumbling out before I can filter them. "Just saw her outside. With a ring on her finger."
Savannah's expression softens. "Oh."
"Yeah." I run a hand through my hair, feeling melting snowflakes dampen my fingers. "And now she's probably heading this way, and I'm going to have to stand here while she shows me her ring and tells me how happy she is while half the town watches and thinks, 'Poor Logan, eternal bachelor of Whitetail Falls, left behind again.'"
I wince as soon as the words leave my mouth. "Sorry. That was a lot to dump on you at 7 in the morning."
Instead of backing away from my verbal avalanche, Savannah reaches for a mug, fills it with something that smells like chai and spices, and slides it across the counter.
"On the house," she says, her voice gentle but not pitying. "You look like you could use it."
The simple kindness hits me square in the chest. I wrap my hands around the warm ceramic, letting the heat seep into my cold fingers.
"Thank you," I murmur.
She nods, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Breakups are hard enough without engagement announcements."
"Especially in a town this size," I agree, taking a sip. The chai is perfect, sweet, spicy, warming me from the inside out.
A movement outside the window catches my eye—red coat, blonde hair. Chloe, definitely heading this way. My stomach clenches again, and without thinking, I set the mug down with too much force. Liquid sloshes over the rim.
"She's coming in here," I breathe, not meaning to say it aloud.
Savannah glances toward the window, then back at me. She grabs a cloth to wipe up my spilled chai, her movements unhurried despite my obvious panic. "Do you want to slip out the back?" she offers. "There's a service door through the kitchen."
The offer is tempting, but the thought of literally running from Chloe makes something in me resist. I'm a grown man. I shouldn't need an escape route from an ex-girlfriend.
And yet.
"Savannah," I say, my voice dropping lower, urgent. "I need a favor."
Her eyes find mine, curious and a little wary. "What?"
"Pretend to be my girlfriend." The words rush out, ridiculous even to my own ears. "I know it's crazy and we barely know each other and I should just be an adult about this, but—"
"Okay."
I blink. "What?"
"I said okay." Savannah's cheeks flush deeper, but her gaze holds steady. "I'll do it."
For a moment, I'm speechless. "You will? Why?"
She adjusts her sleeve, a small, nervous gesture that shouldn't be endearing but somehow is. "Because you look like you might actually pass out if I say no."
A surprised laugh escapes me, the tightness in my chest easing slightly. "That obvious, huh?"
"Like a flashing neon sign," she confirms, but her tone is warm, almost fond.
She unties her apron with quick fingers, revealing a soft cream sweater beneath that hugs curves I definitely shouldn't be noticing right now. "Marco!" she calls toward the back. "Covering front for fifteen!"
