He looks stunned and genuinely insulted, so I turn away from the stove and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m kidding!”
“I would never steal it. I swear,” he replies and I want to kick myself.
“I know you’re trustworthy, Logan, after all you were a perfect gentleman in the shower with me. That’s all the proof I need,” I say and it lightens the mood like I hoped. He grins.
“That was easy though because I was worried you’d pass out,” Logan replies. “Behaving myself in the snow bank was harder.”
My heart flutters in fear or lust, I can’t tell. What I do know is that if there is a line in this tenant-landlord relationship, he just stuck the tip of his toe over it at the very least, right?
“Did your sister-in-law die with laughter?” I ask as he reaches past me to take the spoon off the spoon rest and stir the hollandaise for me. We’re very close, almost touching, and when he cocks his head to look at me I can feel his breath on my cheek. Butterflies explore the inside of my belly.
“Nova was shocked, but she’ll recover. I just had to get her to promise not to tell Terra. She doesn’t know you’re my landlord let alone my brunch date,” Logan explains, and I realize this family likes their secrets. I just don’t know why. “I love my family but they can be a lot. I wanted time to settle in here before I brought their special brand of crazy into this new living situation.”
He smiles lightly, but there’s more to it that I don’t know and that he doesn’t want to tell me. I don’t push him because I, too, have my secrets. Instead, I take the spoon from him and stir the sauce myself, trying and failing to ignore the fact that when our fingers brush, the butterflies in my stomach seem to triple. “Tell me about Hawkins Lobster Shack.”
His handsome face lights up. “My parents have been running the restaurant since I was eight. They took it over from my dad’s parents. Nova and my brother Finn oversee the restaurant part. Terra handles accounting and staffing. Dad does the fishing, with my help when I can manage it. And my brother Declan—Nova’s husband—handles the marketing and promotions. Mom oversees the kitchen. It’s chaos sometimes, and it’s a lot of head-butting other times because we all have very different personalities and know how to press each other’s buttons, but I don’t think any of us would give it up.”
I smile at the idea of this big family working together, and the proud smile he doesn’t realize he’s wearing as he talks about them warms me. The timer goes off for the eggs that are being poached. I reach for the clotted spoon and give him a small hip check. “Outta my way, Hawkins. I’ve got to finish this up so we can eat.”
He steps away, parking himself at the island. “There’s fresh mango juice or celery juice or boring old orange juice in the fridge. Help yourself.”
I can hear him walking around behind me as I get everything plated. The whole vibe between us is amazingly, yet oddly, comfortable. I feel so at ease with him despite all the weird situations we’ve been thrown into together or maybe because of them. All I know is this is the best date I’ve been on since Jackson.
I turn, holding two plates full of food but wanting to do other things besides eat. I want to touch him. I want to kiss him. I want to…I force myself to turn toward the dining room. “Let’s eat in there. Can you bring the juice?”
He picks up two of the pitchers of juice and carries them to the dining room. I have already set the table. It’s a round oak table with folding sides, and I’ve only left one side open and put both place settings there. It’s cozy but not intimate…at least that’s what I was going for. We sit, and as he picks up his fork, he surveys the food on his plate with a smile. “You put it on a hash brown instead of an English muffin?”
“A homemade crunchy potato cake. My grandmother’s recipe,” I say. “Now it’s my turn to show some family pride. Make sure to get a little bit of everything in your first bite—potato, sauce, lobster, and egg.”
He does just that, and when he closes his eyes while he chews and gives me a deep rumbling groan of approval, my butterflies are back and making my belly quiver.
“This is insanely delicious,” Logan gushes after he’s swallowed and promptly puts another piece in his mouth. “There’s bacon in this potato cake. That is sensational!”
I smile. “Grandma Rose’s recipe never fails to impress.”
“I have to tell my mom about this. Would you mind?”
“Of course not,” I say easily.
“Maybe you can tell her yourself,” he says as he picks up the pitcher of mango juice and offers me some. I nod and he fills my glass. “I mean, if you want to come by the restaurant again sometime.”
“Sure. I mean, maybe one day.”
I want to tell him I’ll be there tomorrow, but only to see Terra. It feels weird not telling him, so I make the decision to ask Terra if he can be looped in on her secret project and explain he’s my tenant. Logan goes back to devouring breakfast. “So…tell me more about you.”
“Like what?” I question, and he glances over at me and then swiftly moves his eyes back to his plate. I think of the night he was waking me up for the concussion, and I know exactly what he isn’t going to ask but wants to. So I ask it for him. “Like who is Jackson?”
He’s reaching for his glass of mango juice but freezes momentarily. “I’m assuming an ex, but you know what they say about assuming. It contains the word ass for a reason.” He smiles sheepishly.
Man, I find this guy ridiculously charming. As I watch him take a sip of his juice, I think about the look of horror and sympathy on his face when I said my parents died. The way his voice dropped into that tone I’ve heard too much in my life. The one dripping with pity.
Then I think of my last date eleven months ago. At first things were going great and we even planned a second date before the first one was even halfway done. I actually thought the guy, Derek, was boyfriend material. I met him at work. He was one of the freelance photographers hired to shoot photos for the website I was designing, and we really hit it off. But then the subject of exes came up as he drove me home from the restaurant. He told me about some three-year relationship that ended badly, and I told him I had a marriage end. By death. I didn’t word it so dramatically but I might as well have. He spent the rest of the car ride looking at me like I was a circus freak he felt sorry for.
He didn’t return my phone calls for a week and canceled our next date by text. Finally, he called and explained that he didn’t think we should see each other anymore. He can deal with ex-husbands but not dead ones, because he didn’t think there was a way for a woman to get over that. I told him to go fuck himself and hung up. Not my finest hour.
I remember the conversation I had with Aspen and her suggestion about being vague. Then I didn’t think I could lie, but now, knowing how much I like being around Logan, I don’t want him to look at me the way Derek did. Logan is staring at me patiently awaiting a response. I take a sip of my juice.
“Yeah, Jackson and I were married.”
