He flips a burger, then glances at me like he’s debating something.
“You ever think about settling down?” he asks.
I snort. “That’s coming out of nowhere.”
“Not really. I mean, I don’t know how a potential wife would feel about you wearing those Swedish compression pants, though.”
I chuckle. “Right.”
“I Googled those. Didn’t see them.”
“Weird,” I cough. “Anyway, nah, I don’t think too much about the end-game.”
“Yeah,” he says. “That’s what I used to say.”
I glance over at him. “Used to?”
He shrugs, casual. “Never thought I’d be the guy hosting barbecues in a small town either.”
I gesture vaguely around us. “This whole thing feels…on-brand for you, actually.”
“Does it?” he says.
“Yeah. Being a grillmaster. Wearing the apron. Coaching at the University. You always did have that mild-authority complex.”
“Watch it,” he mutters, but he’s smirking.
A beat passes. Then he adds, a little quieter this time, “Truth is, I didn’t think I’d ever commit to anything. Or anyone.”
That gets my attention.
I lean back against the counter. “What changed?”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “Met a really hot school teacher at a bar.”
I huff a laugh. “That’ll do it.”
Jackson glances toward the patio. “Ivy—hey babe, come here a sec.”
She looks up, smiles, and makes her way over.
There’s something easy about the way she fits beside him, like she’s always been there.
“Logan, this is Ivy,” Jackson says.
“We’ve met—briefly,” she says, smiling. “Hi again.”
“Hey,” I say. “Good to officially meet you.”
She bumps Jackson lightly with her hip. “What’s he saying about me?”
“That I married up,” Jackson says.
She gasps. “Oh, please.”
I shake my head. “So how’d you guys meet, exactly? A bar? But when did youknow?”
They both go still for half a second, then look at each other.
