Chapter Seven
I COULDN’T HELP BUT STEAL a few quick glances at Logan, his hands firmly gripping the steering wheel of a brand-new, shiny truck. The elegant shop fronts of Aspen Lake’s picturesque town danced by as we cruised along. The gentle hum of the engine provided the only soundtrack, while a light breeze blew in from my cracked window and brushed against my skin.
As we journeyed through the town, I racked my brain, searching for the perfect words to break the silence. Ever since he’d picked me up and we got past the normal pleasantries, there had been a lot of dead air. Which was weird, considering I could babble like no one’s business. But after our picnic the night before, the nerves had dissipated, and with them my need for constant chatter. Something about knowing there would never be anything romantic between us allowed me to be myself around Logan.
While I thought, I breathed in the new-car smell. Personally, I’d never own a new car. As with music, my taste in automobiles ran old. In fact, I wished Logan had picked me up in the convertible I’d seen in his driveway the day before. Maybe someday I’d get that wish, since I’d decided the night before that we were going to be best buds this summer.
It was like I could hear Mom telling me that this man was the one she’d had in mind when she’d written the bucket list, though he wasn’t who I’d pictured when I read “make a lifelong friend.” I’d just assumed it would be a woman and someone like my best friend, Claire, who was a little on the snarky side but would bring bleach to a crime scene you needed to cover up, no questions asked.
I wouldn’t hold the fact that he was a ridiculously handsome man against Logan. He couldn’t help it. Besides, he’d made it clear he was still very much in love with his wife, so I was in no danger of having more-than-friendly feelings for him. Even if he’d looked amazing earlier that morning in his athletic shorts and tank, with his ash blond hair damp from sweat and perfectly mussed. That wasn’t me drooling over him—it was just me being observant.
This was a win-win kind of situation. At least, I thought so. We both needed a friend, and I was ready for the job. Besides, I was taking life to the limit and getting out of my comfort zone.
“So, Eden mentioned you were in a band when you were in high school.”
“Eden,” he grumbled her name. No doubt Eden had once again cajoled him into spending time with me. That didn’t offend me. I just needed to make Logan feel secure in the fact that I would never, ever accidentally—or on purpose—proposition him again.
“Before we talk about your boy band days, maybe you could give me some advice about where I could meet some nice, single, emotionally available, and stable men.” I was only asking him so he would know I wasn’t considering him for the position.
Logan glanced my way, ripples appearing on his forehead as his face pinched tightly, apparently at a loss for words.
“We can rule out the hospital.” I giggled.
Logan’s defenses lowered, and he chuckled, shaking his head. “I never know what you’re going to say.”
“That’s good. It will keep you on your toes. But back to my question. Where would you suggest I find such men?” I didn’t know where all my boldness was coming from, but I liked it. Maybe Mom hadn’t been crazy to send me to this picturesque town.
“I wouldn’t know. I’m not plugged in to the Aspen Lake dating scene,” he murmured.
“Sorry, that was a callous question to ask you. I’m just trying to put you at ease.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Obviously, you’re uncomfortable around me. I want to change that. I hope we can be friends. Friends with no benefits,” I added. “Like zero. I mean, except for the benefit of you teaching me how to paddleboard or, like, opening a jar for me. What I’m trying to say, ineloquently, is that I’m not interested in you romantically, so you can relax.”
That seemed to have the opposite effect on him, as he stiffened and gripped the steering wheel tighter.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No. You’re just an interesting woman is all.”
He wasn’t wrong. “Interesting is better than boring, right?”
“I suppose it is.” He flashed me a half smile.
“Now that we have that settled, tell me about your boy band days and who your favorite band of all time is.” You could tell a lot about a person by the music they listened to.
Logan pulled into Granger Outfitters. “This is the best sporting goods store in town. I know Tristan Granger and his wife, Calista. They run a free medical clinic on the other side of the lake that I volunteer at when I can.”
I kind of wished he hadn’t told me that. That made him even more attractive. “Wow. That’s really nice of you.”
He parked the truck and shrugged. “It feels good to give back when I can.”
That was sweet, but ... “You still didn’t answer my questions,” I reminded him. I had a feeling he was avoiding them.
He groaned before letting out a huge breath. “We were called Chaos Theory.”
I stifled a giggle. “That’s very teen angsty of you.”
“I suppose it was,” he said fondly.
“Did your music reflect that angst?”
He nodded. “But it didn’t exactly reflect me.”
“What do you mean?”
Logan ran a hand through his perfectly mussed hair. “I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this, but I’m honestly more of a Frank Sinatra, Michael Bublé kind of a guy. You can go ahead and laugh now. ”
While I hadn’t expected his musical preference, I in no way felt the need to make fun of it. “Honestly, I think it’s charming, and it fits you.” It really did. He was all class, even at that moment in his fitted polo and dress shorts.
His features softened, as if relieved that I hadn’t made fun of him.
“Did you ever think about performing big band and jazz numbers?” I asked.
Logan’s ears turned red hot.
“Oh, my gosh, you did, didn’t you?”
Logan cleared his throat. “The summers after my freshman and sophomore years at college, I worked at a theme park singing big band numbers. I’ve told no one that.”
“What? Why? I think it’s amazing.”
“It’s embarrassing, and it wasn’t what I was meant to do with my life.”
I tilted my head. “Why does it have to be one or the other? A singing doctor could help put patients at ease,” I teased.
His lips twitched into an almost grin. “Regardless, being a doctor is my real calling.”
“Do you ever sing anymore?” I was curious to know.
“Only in the car and in the shower.”
I bet that was a sexy sight. Crap. Scratch that thought. If I entertained visions of Logan singing in the shower, my nervous giggles and word vomiting were going to make a comeback.
“Since we’re in a car, will you sing for me?”
“No can do. This is a truck.” He smirked.
I rolled my eyes. “Very clever, Doctor. But someday, before this summer is through, I’m going to hear you sing.” Though that was probably a bad idea. A man who could sing well was my kryptonite. Logan’s sexy speaking voice was already tempting enough. If he ever sang for me, I would probably forget he wasn’t looking for any romantic entanglements and that he’d had a perfect wife whom I would never measure up to.
“Good luck with that.” He threw open his door and exited the truck.
I jumped out on my side. “Challenge accepted. ”
He confidently chuckled in the richest timbre, which only made me want to hear him sing more.
Together, we walked across the full parking lot, both making sure to keep our distance from each other. I didn’t want to look like a couple. I never knew when I might run into the man I was meant to have a summer fling with. Assuming there was such a man out there. At the very least, I was hoping for a few dates while I was in town.
“So, what should I be looking for in a paddleboard?” I asked, changing the subject. My plan was to lull him into a false sense of security so he would relax around me, and I would catch him singing unaware. I wasn’t sure why, but I knew I had to hear him sing.
“Given you’re a beginner, you should probably buy an all-round board. You might also think about a wet suit. The water is only around sixty degrees right now.”
I shivered for effect. One of my bucket list items was to go skinny-dipping. Had Mom not known how cold the lake water was? Yikes. “I’ll definitely get a wet suit.”
As Logan graciously held the door open, I stepped inside the opulent sporting goods store. The scent of leather and polished wood tickled my nose. The sounds of distant chatter and soft music filled the air, while the gleaming displays of high-end equipment dazzled my eyes. Before that summer, I could never afford to go shopping at a store like that. I almost felt guilty knowing how much money I would probably spend there.
I assumed my father, whoever he was, probably shopped at stores like this, given the sizable sum of money he’d paid to silence my mom. Part of me continued to think I should have saved it all for a rainy day or rainy months. It was some pretty serious cash. But I knew that would disappoint Mom. And I was taking life to the limit this summer.
“Paddleboards are toward the back.” Logan led the way.
I followed him, looking around at all the shoppers in designer clothes. I felt out of place in my cutoffs and tee. Sporting goods stores were different in Nebraska. Back home, I’d seen people walking around them drinking cans of beer they’d crush against their heads while shopping. Here, I was waiting for a fancy server to show up and ask me if I’d like some sparkling water or a glass of chardonnay .
I had to wonder why Mom loved Aspen Lake so much. She honestly fit in more with the beer-guzzling and can-crushing crowd. I could never see her wearing anything made by Ralph Lauren or Tory Burch, like the women nearby dripping in brand names while they perused the merchandise. Not that there was anything wrong with that style. Sometimes I wished I could afford designer clothing.
It was just that my mom spent her girl rock days mostly in dive bars and county fairgrounds. She’d proudly told me once how she could drink any man under the bar. But there was something about Aspen Lake that had called to her. I could see it in her eyes every time she’d spoken about it. Something about this town had captured her heart. I supposed she’d wanted me to discover that magic too.
As we walked toward the back, I noticed a few women ogle Logan. I kept my distance from him, though I knew those women had no hope of snagging the sexy doctor. His heart belonged to Erica. Logan’s devotion to his deceased wife was sweet and refreshing. I hoped if I ever got the chance to get married and I passed away before my husband, that he would mourn for me the way Logan clearly did for Erica.
Those same women eyed me, clearly questioning a possible relationship between Logan and me. That was a big fat no. I wanted to tell them as much, but that seemed like something only Roxanne Crawford was capable of. I smiled, picturing Mom whispering conspiratorially to the women, telling them she would never date someone as beautiful as the doctor. She’d believed beautiful men were trouble. I had a feeling my father was one of those beautiful, troublesome men. But I would never know.
Logan and I stopped in front of the paddleboards of every shape and size, mostly in bright colors.
“All right, Paddleboard Master, which one?” I bowed to him like I was his padawan.
He shook his head and laughed before grabbing a ten-foot multicolored board in shades of mint, orange, and yellow. “This would be a good one for you. It’s made with Gatorshell.”
“Like an alligator?”
“No. Think strong plastic. ”
“Gotcha. I don’t speak paddleboard yet.” I grabbed the board and admired it, unsure what I should be looking for other than the price tag, which made me a little queasy. But I reminded myself I had plenty of cash to burn this summer. “I’ll take it. Now, where are the wet suits?”
“Over there.” Logan pointed.
“Great. Any suggestions?”
“I like the Billabong or Hyperfreak lines.”
“Those are some wild names,” I quipped. “I’ll try some on, and you can tell me what you think.”
His face contorted unnaturally. “That’s not necessary. Just pick something you like and make sure it’s snug, but not restrictive. It should feel like a second skin. I’m going to go over there.” He pointed aimlessly across the store. “I’ll meet you when you’re done.”
“All right. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Of course. Take your time.” He jetted off.
I watched him go, wondering how we were going to be lifelong friends if he kept running away from me. The night before, when we were having a great time talking about the stars and some of my favorite songs, he’d unceremoniously grabbed his telescope and had skedaddled. Did he have an aversion to fun, or wet suits, or was it me? I had a feeling it was me.