Chapter 3
Gwendolyn
As soon as Mayor Spencer wrapped up his speech about budgets for the rest of the year, which was ultimately spurred by his wife waxing poetics about the town beautification project that was underway in preparation for the fall festivities, I was booking it out of that conference room.
I heard my name called when I pushed open the front doors of Town Hall and exited to the fresh mountain air.
Which I sniffed in copious amounts to rid myself of the fresh scent of spice and pure man that stuck in my nostrils ever since I walked by Logan earlier.
“Gwen, damn woman, have you taken up recreational speed walking since I last saw you?” A huff of laughter comes from directly behind me as I step down onto the sidewalk. I don’t make it another step further because the reason for my fast pace is suddenly right in front of me.
I skid to a stop so I don’t ram right into him.
From the looks of his broad chest, that face plant would be right into solid muscle.
I take a deep breath to relax my own muscles before lifting my chin to take him in again.
Even though we already came face to face not half an hour ago, I’m still in shock as I look him over.
The tousled unruly dark brown waves that once flopped over his forehead as a teenager were now styled in a more intentional wind swept look—something I had only ever seen in movies or on the cover of romance novels.
His naturally sun-kissed skin I always envied still set off his hazel eyes.
It all felt so familiar, but at the same time it wasn’t.
He was so much more than my memory recounts.
I always thought he was a cute kid that grew into a hot teen boy, but now there was no denying he is a gorgeous man. And if he doesn’t stop with the panty-melting grin he’s shooting down at me with his one-sided dimple on display, I was going to die on the spot.
“What, Logan?” I don’t mean it to come out so snarky, honestly. But it happens quicker than I can take the words back.
His lips start to fall from their lift, a small falter that has me internally cringing and scrambling for better words. Because even if he hurt me before, I can’t really find it in me to want to hurt him now.
“Sorry,” I wince, pushing hair behind my ears to buy a moment of time to figure out how to be nice again. “That was rude. What I meant was, hi. What are you doing back in Willow Grove after all this time?”
His expression pinches before he can catch it and smooth the practiced easy going face I have seen too many times before.
It’s the one that says he doesn’t quite want to be here, but knows he doesn’t have a choice.
A look that has never actually been directed at me in the two decades we’ve known each other, but that I’ve seen many times previously directed at others.
“Duty calls,” he says with a nod toward the building we both just left. “We always knew this is where I would end up.”
“But it’s not what you wanted.” Again, I was speaking before thinking, but it was the truth.
Logan and I might have grown apart from the kids that played outside until the streetlights came on.
And we might not have had the deep relationship I dreamed of as a teenage girl, with a crush on the most popular guy in high school.
But that one semester we had to be partners, I got to see a side of him that many people didn’t.
I learned there was more to Logan than meets the eye.
It’s his turn to wince. “Things change, I guess.”
I hum in agreement. My fingers pick at the edge of my sweater sleeves, unsure where to go with this conversation. He continues on without encouragement, though, probably sensing the cloud of uncertainty and anxiety building around us.
“Nice to have a friendly face, especially if I’m being tossed to the wolves with this event.” The laugh he releases is humorless. It’s more sad than anything.
“You don’t have to do it, you know.”
Logan shakes his head, his eyes meeting some place over my shoulder for a blink before coming back to me. “You and I both know I don’t have a choice when it comes to something he wants.”
There’s no explanation as to who he is. I knew all too well about the dynamic between Logan and his father.
Something I used to pray to whoever would listen when we were kids for it to get better between them.
I would have given anything to have my father like Logan had his, but not at the expense it cost the man standing in front of me.
“So,” Logan claps his hands between him, rubbing them together like a villain planning a heist. “Shall we start planning this thing? Probably best to start sooner than later.”
I was excited to help with the Harvest Festival. It’s the biggest event our little town hosts, and it is something I always dreamed about being able to assist with. But actually heading the planning of our town’s biggest event? That felt unreal.
Mrs. Spencer floated the idea of having me take a bigger role this year and I was giddy with anticipation coming into this meeting today.
That was the whole reason I brought so many of our beloved pastries.
A tactic to sweeten everyone up. Never in my life would I have thought she would hand over the reins completely.
This was my chance to shine, to leave a lasting impact on this town. Something I always wanted but never knew how to make a reality. Only, it’s not exactly how I ever pictured it to happen, as I look over at Logan again.
How was I expected to work side by side with him? Did he even want that? Or did he want me to do all the work while he took some of the credit? I didn’t know this man, only the boy he once was, so my thoughts are all over the place with how to handle this. How to handle him.
Not to mention the need to make this the best year ever, something both Mr. and Mrs. Spencer repeated over and over in the meeting, was looming over my head. Would he truly want to help or did he want to sabotage in the name of sticking it to his parents?
I nibble on my lower lip to buy myself a moment to decide on what to say. It’s not until I catch the flash in his eyes as they track my mouth that I release it. The attention makes my skin burn hot enough that I know it’s turning a shade or two pink, thanks to my pale skin.
“Actually, I have to get back to the shop.” I jut my thumb down the street and take a half step in that direction, grateful for the ready-made excuse of my business to slam between us.
“How about tomorrow, then? We can grab lunch or something.”
“Um, sure.” This was inevitable, clearly.
A day should give me time to hyperfixate over this interaction and get my shit together.
I move another step away from him. “How about you meet me at The Willow Whisk? About two? That should give us a little time between rushes.” And give me home field advantage if I need it.
His hands sliding into the pockets of his slacks makes him seem much more at ease than I currently feel. “I’ll be there.”
Ready to leave the conversation, I send a small wave in his direction—unsure what to do with my own hands—and turn on my heel quickly so I can put some space between us.
“Hey, Gwen,” he calls out. I stop, turning halfway to look at him again with an eyebrow raised in question.
“It’s really good to see you again.” The smirk that plays on his lips heats me up from the inside, but it’s the playful flare in his eyes that has that building fire shooting straight to my core.
I gulp to myself. How many times did I dream about Logan Spencer giving me that look when we were younger?
Too often to count. But now that I was finally on the receiving end of his flirty look, I couldn’t help but feel that it was a little too late.
Especially as the echo of the last time I saw him rang out in my head.
Still, that didn’t keep me from feeling butterflies. The difference between then and now, though, is I’m not the same meek girl I once was.
“Hey, Logan.”
His smile widens even more. “Yeah?”
“Save the flirting for someone who doesn’t know any better.”
His hazel eyes flare bright gold as he huffs out a laugh, confusion marring his face as his eyebrows knit together. I quickly make my way down the sidewalk before I overthink my parting words and make it awkward for both of us.
***
“Tell me again what you said to him.”
I giggle, placing my phone on the kitchen counter so I could have two hands to open the wine bottle in my hands. “I already repeated this story twice, Pipes.”
“Yeah,” her voice comes through on the speaker. “But I never would have thought there would be a day when Logan Spencer was giving his patented goo-goo eyes at you just for you to block him out.”
Releasing the cork from its confines, I pour the white wine into a glass, then top it off a little more for good measure.
“Now, if only I can keep it up for the next month.”
I take my glass, perching myself on the reading chair next to the window overlooking Main Street.
My little patio twinkles with lights I definitely purchased during some after-Christmas sale and leave up all year round.
Normally, I would rather end my evening with a good book and a glass of wine out there, but with how nosy this town was, I didn’t need anyone listening in on my phone conversation.
“I know it’s not ideal that this is suddenly a group project, but that’s awesome that you were picked to help plan the festival. You’ve wanted this for so long. I bet it was that adoption fair you set up for Jackson at the vet clinic this summer. That had to be what really set her sights on you.”
I blush at the recognition, something I wasn’t comfortable with, even though part of me craved the praise. I was working on making the two sides of myself mingle, even if it felt foreign right now.
“Thanks, Pipes. That was a good event.”
“Good?” She scoffs. “Honey, you helped them get all the pets adopted in one day. Take the kudos.”