9. Savanna
SAVANNA
“What do you mean you’re treating him? Can’t Cliff take him?”
I put the bowl of cat food on the ground for Panda, and he meows happily, unlike my sister, whose anger on my behalf ripples down the phone.
“I’ve transferred him to Cliff, but he can’t take him until next week.”
“You’ve had to transfer him? Now the asshole will think he still affects you.”
I can’t win with Cassie, and I can’t tell her he still affects me, and it’s freaking annoying.
“It’s fine, Cassie.” I open the fridge and stare blankly at the contents. “Tell me about you. How’s Belgium?”
“Bavaria, not Belgium. And don’t change the subject.”
Deciding I haven’t got the energy to cook, I grab a loaf of bread and pop two slices in the toaster.
I can’t admit to my sister that I kissed Logan three days ago. I promised her I wouldn’t get involved with him again. Not that one kiss is getting involved. It was a mistake, a wonderful, toe-tingling mistake.
We’ve had another session since then, the final one before Cliff takes over, and this time I was prepared when Logan took his shirt off.
I almost drooled on his back, and I had to resist licking his skin, but I did resist. And I didn’t kiss him.
What I’m feeling is nothing more than a physical attraction.
A very big, all-consuming physical attraction, but that’s all it is.
Cassie wouldn’t understand. She’ll tell me off for letting him kiss me, when the truth is I leaned into him.
I wanted him to kiss me, and it was freaking amazing when he did.
The doorbell chimes, saving me from having to answer any more of Cassie’s questions.
“I have to go. Someone’s at the door.”
“On a Friday night? If it’s him, Savvy, promise me you won’t let him in.”
I don’t want to make any more promises I might not be able to keep.
“Bye, Cassie.”
I hang up before she can say anything else and talk sense into me, because ever since the kiss three days ago, all I can think about is Logan’s warm lips and his hands on my ass and the bulge poking out of his sweatpants.
“It won’t be him.”
I pat Panda, who’s too busy eating his dinner to care that there’s someone at the door. Or to notice that I smooth my hair in the mirror and pull the wrinkles out of my t-shirt, because it probably won’t be Logan, but just in case it might be, I want to look good.
I open the door, and my heart stutters. Logan stands with one hand in his pocket, exuding sexiness in a checkered shirt that’s open at the front, revealing a gray t-shirt pulled tight across his chest. My fingers tingle from remembering how I trailed them over his body in the treatment room, from his pectoralis minor to the solid pectoralis major and the hard ridges of his abdominal obliques.
“You got plans for dinner?”
I fold my arms over my chest because no matter how much I want to continue my exploration of his chest, I am not going out to dinner with the man who broke my heart.
“I’m not going out with you, Logan.”
“We’re not going out.” He holds up a brown shopping bag. “I’m cooking for you.”
When I knew Logan, he could barely boil an egg. He blamed joining the military at seventeen and never needing to fend for himself.
“You can cook?”
He claps his free hand to his chest, mock-offended. “You’re not the only one who skilled up.”
I’m curious to see what he can do. But if Cassie knew I was considering inviting him into my house, she’d get on the next plane and come back here to talk sense into me.
Logan must sense my hesitation because he holds up his free hand. “It’s just dinner. I want to make things up to you, and I thought cooking for you might be a good start.”
This isn’t Cassie’s decision. I’m a grown woman, and if I want to let an old friend cook dinner for me, then I should.
“All right.” I take a step back and let Logan into my home. As he brushes past, I catch his scent and my entire body lights up.
I should send him away. I should run and hide. But instead, I close the door behind him.
Logan follows me through to the open-plan living room and drops his shopping bag on the kitchen counter.
Panda looks up and meows, and Logan bends down to pat him. “Hey, buddy, what’s your name?”
“That’s Panda.”
He rubs Panda behind the ears, and my traitorous cat purrs and pushes its head into his palm.
“He likes me.”
“He likes having his head rubbed. It doesn’t mean he likes you.”
“Noted.” Logan gives me a pointed look, and my skin heats.
I peek inside the grocery bag, hoping he doesn’t see my blush.
“What are you cooking?”
“Spaghetti Bolognese. Is it still your favorite?”
He pulls out tomato paste and an onion. I’m touched he remembers my favorite dish. My tastes have matured since I was eighteen, but you can’t beat a good spag-bol.
His phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket. He squints at the screen, then leaves it face up, still ringing.
“You’re not going to get that?”
“Nah.”
He doesn’t say anything else, and we unpack the groceries in silence. My mind whirs, desperate to ask who he’s ghosting. Does he have another woman on the hook?
The phone rings out, and I can’t contain my anger.
“You need to leave.”
Logan pauses with a packet of ground beef in his hand, his expression incredulous. “What just happened? What did I miss?”
His phone rings again, and I indicate it vibrating on my bench.
“You don’t come around here and ghost another woman.”
Realization dawns, and he chuckles. “It’s not a woman.”
He holds up the screen and the name Gordon shows.
“Gordon.” The name is familiar, but it takes me a moment to place it. “Your…”
“Father,” he says at the same time I say, “Dad.”
I’m more relieved than I should be as he places the phone on the counter.
“There’s no other woman, Savanna. There hasn’t been anyone since you.”
His words floor me, and my stupid heart flip-flops. I go still. I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want his meaningless confessions.
I turn away to wipe the counter down and steer the conversation to something safer.
“You’re still not close to your dad?”
From what I remember, Logan’s parents separated when he was young. His dad was in the military, and he didn’t see him a lot.
He shrugs. “We don’t talk much. Whatever it is, it can wait.”
He pulls a bottle of Shiraz out of the bag, and I fish out my bottle opener from the drawer.
“How are your brothers and sister?” Logan has three step-siblings from his father’s second wife, although they had just separated when we were together.
“Which ones?”
“Oh.” I hand him two wine glasses. “Your dad remarried a third time?” I can’t hide my surprise, then realize I’m being rude. “Sorry, I shouldn’t judge. It’s just, um, surprising.”
He opens the wine and pours two generous glasses.
“Oh yeah. The guy’s terrible at relationships.” He chuckles, as if two failed marriages are a joke, but he doesn’t meet my eyes as he hands me a glass of wine.
“I’ve got two new sisters since I saw you last.”
I take a long sip of wine, wondering how that must feel.
The man has left a string of single mothers.
Is that why Logan never settled down? Does he fear he’ll be like his dad?
Is that why he left me, because it was what he learned a man does?
These questions are too big to ask, and I don’t want to know the answers.
Instead, I focus on Logan and his siblings.
“So that’s five siblings now. That’s, um, a lot.”
“Yeah, the guy’s an asshole. Six kids from three different wives. The youngest are only six and eight. I’ve only met them once.”
I sip my wine, thinking about the relationship I have with my only sibling. We talk every few days, no matter where in the world she is, and I talk to my parents at least once a week.
“But I don’t want to talk about my father and his regrets. Do you own this place?”
I’m happy to change the subject. While Logan prepares dinner, I tell him about my house, although I stop short of telling him I talk to my plants. He might think I’m weird.
The spaghetti Bolognese is amazing, and I’m genuinely impressed by his cooking skills.
By the time dinner is over, we’ve finished the bottle of wine and the conversation feels easy.
I make hot chocolate, and we sit on the sofa.
I tuck my feet up, and Logan sits next to me.
Panda jumps up and nestles between us. It’s easy, and it’s comfortable, and I’m enjoying Logan’s company way too much.
I forgot how funny Logan is and how easily the conversation flows.
It’s as if the years haven’t passed at all.