A muffled response comes from the kitchen, and then she's beside me, closer than I expected, smelling like vanilla and cinnamon. Heat radiates from her, and I'm suddenly aware of how much taller I am, how I could tuck her head under my chin if I pulled her close.
"Should we—" She gestures vaguely to the door, tucking another strand of hair behind her ear. "Go outside? Make it look like we're leaving together?"
"Yes," I nod, relief and something less definable making me light-headed. "Yes, that would be perfect."
We move toward the exit. As I push the door open, cold air rushes in, and I reach for her hand without thinking.
Chapter 2 – Savannah
The moment Logan's fingers fold around mine, my entire body goes on high alert. His palm is warm and dry against mine, calloused in places that catch against my skin.
Cold air hits us as we step outside, snowflakes immediately dusting my hair and shoulders. Logan’s grip adjusts slightly, fingers threading through mine with casual intimacy that makes my stomach drop like I've missed a step on a staircase.
This is not real, I remind myself firmly.
"We should probably head down Main," Logan says, voice low near my ear. His breath forms a small cloud between us. "That's where she was heading."
I nod mutely, not trusting my voice. Logan stands nearly a foot taller than me, his broad shoulders creating a shelter from the light snowfall.
We step onto Emberstone Avenue, and I'm immediately conscious of how we must look together. Lieutenant Logan Price, Whitetail Falls' most eligible bachelor, walking hand-in-hand with... me. The quiet baker who people recognize but don't really see, whose name they never quite remember, whose presence registers about as strongly as the cafe's background music.
"So," I finally manage, desperate to fill the silence, "do we need a backstory? How long have we been dating? How did we meet?"
Logan glances down, snowflakes melting instantly on his dark eyelashes. "Let's keep it simple. We met at the cafe. I asked you out after one of your bakery deliveries to the station. We've been seeing each other for...a few weeks?"
"Right. Simple. Believable." I try to sound casual, though my heart is performing gymnastics inside my chest.
We pass Harriet's Boutique, and I notice Mrs. Parker inside, arranging scarves. She looks up, spots us, and her eyebrows shoot toward her hairline. I watch understanding register on her face, followed immediately by the gleeful expression of someone who's just acquired prime gossip currency.
"People are staring," I murmur, resisting the urge to pull my hand away.
"Let them," Logan says easily, thumb brushing across my knuckles in a way that sends a completely unnecessary shiver down my spine. "That's kind of the point, right?"
Right. The point is to be seen together. To create a convincing picture for his ex. For everyone. This is strategic, not personal.
We turn onto Main Street, the full holiday splendor of Whitetail Falls on display. Storefronts glitter with white lights, fresh greenery drapes across doorways, and the enormous pine tree in Town Square sparkles with ornaments and ribbon. In any other circumstance, it would be magical.
Right now, it feels like walking through a movie set where I've accidentally wandered into someone else's scene.
"Lieutenant Price!" calls Eddie from the hardware store, pushing a cart of salt bags onto the sidewalk. "Morning!" His gaze drops to our joined hands, and a knowing grin spreads across his weathered face. "Morning to you too, Miss Bailey."
He remembered my name. That's new.
"Morning, Eddie," Logan responds easily, lifting our joined hands slightly in a casual greeting that makes my face heat despite the cold. "Got those smoke detector batteries I ordered?"
"Coming in Wednesday," Eddie says, still grinning. "You two look... cozy."
I manage a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. Logan's hand settles at my lower back as we move past, guiding me around a patch of ice I hadn't noticed. The warmth of his palm bleeds through my coat, and I have to resist the urge to lean into his touch like a cat seeking heat.
We continue down the street, and I feel ripples of attention follow us. It's surreal being the object of so much attention, or rather, being adjacent to the object of attention.
"You okay?" Logan asks, ducking his head slightly to catch my eye. "You got quiet."
"Fine," I say too quickly. "Just... not used to being the center of attention."
His eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. "If it helps, they're mostly looking at me, not you."
"That doesn't help at all," I mutter, and he laughs.
