I shook my head, laughing as I turned toward the closet and rummaged for a purse that matched my dress. “Her and the damn casseroles.”
Logan grinned. “I saw the other two stacked in the fridge.”
“You’re going to have to come over and help me get through them,” I said, stepping back out and facing him, one hand planted firmly on my hip.
“Anything you need, Ace,” he said quietly, glancing toward the front door.
“Oh, how’s the ankle holding up?” I asked, pointing to the one he’d twisted the other day.
Logan lifted it slightly, rotating in a full circle, and said, “Good as new.”
“Must have been the hot shower and the cold-compress intervals,” I replied with a wink.
He nodded, lips tight, and cleared his throat.
“I should head out before your date shows up and sees me.”
I scoffed, brushing it off with a wave. “Who cares? You’re always going to be in my life. If he’s got a problem with that, he better figure it out real quick.”
Logan gave me a tight-lipped smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Then he nodded and took a slow step back. “Have a good time,” he said, voice low. “Call me if you need anything.”
There it was again, that fleeting expression passing across his face. Something soft and heavy that didn’t belong to the Logan I knew. Sadness? Regret? Uncertainty? I couldn’t pin it down, but it was there, flickering just long enough for me to feel it.
I chose not to ask. Not to read too much into it. I just nodded, and he turned, walking out of my bedroom and then out of my apartment altogether.
And yet… I didn’t move.
I stood rooted in place, my fingers curling lightly around my purse strap, my heart no longer calm. For the first time since I’d started getting ready, the butterflies came alive—and they had nothing to do with my date.
It was the look Logan had given me.
And the way it made everything else suddenly feel a little less certain.
The limo ridewith Miles passed quickly, full of flirty banter and easy conversation that made the trip from Faircloud to the city pleasant. That was the thing about Miles—talking to him came naturally. We could volley back and forth about everything from favorite foods to worst movies without missing a beat.
He told me he’d lived in the city most of his life, but after years of the hustle, he needed a change. Faircloud ended up on his radar thanks to a friend who’d visited The Tequila Cowboy, Mac’s bar, and couldn’t stop raving about it.
Faircloud had that effect on people. It pulled them in, made them stay.
Now we sat in a fancy restaurant where I felt like a kid playing dress-up. Crisp white linens, polished silverware lined up like soldiers, napkins folded with precision. Hell, I’d watched one woman delicately dab the corner of her mouth, even though there was nothing there.
It had seemed like a fun idea when Miles suggested it—a night out, fancy dinner. But now, with a waiter pouring wine from a bottle wrapped in a white towel like it was some sacred relic, I felt completely out of my depth.
I was used to small-town restaurants in my sweatpants while eating hot wings, burgers, fries with way too much salt. Not… this.
Miles had chosen to sit beside me instead of across the table, something about it beingmore intimate. It felt intrusive, honestly. But what did I know? I hadn’t been on a real date in… well, ever.
A giant salad sat in front of me, perfectly arranged, the kind of plate that made me feel like I shouldn’t touch it.
I stared down at the two forks—one big, one small—unsure where to start. I waited and followed Miles’s lead.
“Everything okay?” he asked, draping his arm over the back of my chair and tugging me a little closer.
“Oh yeah,” I said quickly, forcing a bright smile. “I’m just admiring this salad. It’s beautiful.”
Miles let out a low, gravelly laugh. He was dressed in a light khaki suit, the top buttons of his white shirt undone, showing off a surprisingly defined chest.
“You don’t know which fork is which,” he murmured, leaning in close to my ear.
