Chapter 4
Logan
My feet hit the ground in a comfortable rhythm. Some things never change, like the need I built within myself to run when I needed to clear my head or remove myself from situations for a moment in time. Something I unfortunately had to do more often than not living in the house I was raised in.
Sleep eluded me all night. It didn’t help that the lack of street noises made it a little too quiet.
I was used to hearing cars at all hours or people meandering down the street as they bar hopped beneath my apartment.
Instead, I could hear nothing aside from the analog clock on display in the living room, which I promptly removed its batteries from when I found it in me to get out of bed.
There was also the matter of my new neighbor. My body tossed and turned as images of tiny sleep shorts, freckled cheeks, and moss green eyes danced in my mind.
I wasn’t an idiot. I couldn’t deny that Gwen had grown into a woman so gorgeous she took my breath away.
And that feisty attitude I enjoyed sparring with as kids seems to have blossomed into something more that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but I was ready to figure it out.
If only that meant her sharp tongue was directed my way again.
I dozed off for a little while until a noise had me squinting at my phone to see it was five-thirty in the morning.
It didn’t take long to recognize the noise was the trickle of water running next door that meant Gwen was showering.
It took everything in me not to reach down and palm my quickly hardening dick at the thought of her activity.
Instead of being the fucking creeper I refused to be, I pushed out of bed and made my way to the kitchen on the opposite side of the apartment.
Far away from any noises I might catch from her side of the building.
I was a grown-ass man, not a teenage hormonal boy. It had been a while since I got into bed—or any other surface—with a woman, which had to be why I was acting like an excited dog and Gwen was the shiny new toy in my face.
When I heard the soft snick of her door shutting as she exited her apartment, I gave myself five minutes before I slid into my sneakers and left myself.
A run in the fresh mountain air would do me some good.
If only because it would keep me from doing something I shouldn’t at the thought of my old friend turned new neighbor.
Because there was no way I could look her in the eyes later if I did.
Jogging the streets of my hometown reminds me both why I left and why I missed being here. In the concrete jungle full of skyscrapers, with people having their heads permanently tilted down at their electronic devices, it’s a striking contrast to what life in a small town is like.
City people more often than not flat out ignore everyone around them as they walk down the sidewalks, their feet pushing them to their next destination like there was a race.
Willow Grove is a different story. Everyone knows everyone and, if they don’t, you are going to be introduced and told a quick life story of whoever is around you at the moment.
It’s not long before the sun has risen over the mountaintops completely, illuminating the town square. I slow my steps to catch my breath as I turn down Main Street. Small nods are exchanged with familiar faces of shop owners as they open their doors and set signs out to entice people inside.
Willow Grove was always known to have a vibrant tourist life.
The seasons each held their own draw that brought people from all around to enjoy our little town.
And right now was my favorite time of the year.
The weeping willows that surround the area, including Emerald Lake, turn vibrant oranges and reds in the fall.
The ethereal sight was something to behold at least once in your life.
“Well, if it isn’t Logan Spencer in the flesh.”
I halt my steps at a familiar voice as someone steps out in front of me. A hot cup of what I assume to be coffee in one hand, Jackson Prescott holds the glass door open for a little girl to skip out onto the sidewalk.
My old friend smirks at me. “I heard the rumors, but wasn’t sure what to believe around here.”
“Believe it. Surprised Matthew didn’t tell you since I’m renting from his building.”
An eyebrow raises at me. “Who do you think I heard the rumor from? Can’t believe everything that guy says. He gossips worse than my grandmother,” he harrumphs.
“Daddy, you shouldn’t talk about Uncle Matty and Grams that way.
” The little girl standing between us looks up at him with a scowl—a look that is ripped directly out of her father’s playbook.
Her wild blond curls look like they have seen better days, framing her face and even obstructing her eyes as she fruitlessly pushes back the strands, only for them to fall back down again.
Jackson ruffles the top of her head. “I was just pickin’, Bug. Say hello to Logan.” He playfully palms her head and tilts it my way. I’m sucker punched in the gut with big green eyes that I know she got from her father, but are almost identical to another pair that haunted my dreams last night.
“Hi, Mr. Logan,” her tiny voice travels up to me.
I kneel down to her level as she pushes her hand out between us. I take her little one in my much larger grip loosely, allowing her to give it a little shake before pulling back.
I give a dramatic gasp, my eyes widening comically for effect. “You can’t be Princess Rowan.”
She grins and nods her head.
“That’s impossible. The last time I met her she was this big.” I angle my hand a couple of inches off the ground.
She giggles and pulls out the skirts of her purple dress in a curtsy. “That’s me!” she shouts gleefully.
“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to be in the presence of royalty today,” I say, gesturing down to my sweaty tee and running shorts.
Rowan shrugs. “It’s okay, I forgive you.” She leans in conspiratorially and whispers, “This time.”
Jackson chuckles over us. “Alright, Row. No terrorizing the locals today. You promised to be on your best behavior.”
She displays a tiny eye roll and sighs out, “Okay, Daddy”.
I stand up to my full height again. “Cute kid you got there.”
He shrugs and ruffles her hair again to which she protests loudly. “Yeah, she’s cool, I guess.”
“You’re already two for two, so no doubt this one turns out pretty good.” I nod my head toward the door he just exited. Bold letters announce “The Willow Whisk” on the glass.
As the oldest of the three Prescott kids, Jackson took the role of big brother very seriously, especially in high school.
He might have been a year into college when Gwen finally started, but he made sure to leave a lasting impression on the guys on the hockey team with his warning to stay away from his sisters.
He smiles down at his daughter now as she grabs his hand, tugging him away with all her might.
“Sorry, man. Running late for school drop-off. Gwen promised her a treat this morning, so we had to cash in.” He jerks his head in the direction of the cafe beside us.
“Better get in there before the breakfast crowd takes all the good stuff. Which is just about everything, but I’m pretty partial to the cinnamon rolls.
” Jackson barely budges at his daughter’s pulling.
“Let’s meet up this weekend. Matt and I usually hit up Daisy’s Bar on Friday nights.
I’ll text ya. Still at the same number?”
“Same one,” I respond, chuckling as he gives in to Rowan’s theatrics and she pulls him down the sidewalk.
Turning toward the glass door in front of me, I open it and a wave of fresh coffee attacks my senses in the best way possible.
I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with the delicious scent, while taking in the room.
Rich dark wooden tables and chairs fill the space.
Leather couches run along one wall, inviting whoever walks in to take a seat and melt into the thick cushions.
There’s an open doorway to the right that reveals bookshelves filled to the brim, with a table right in the middle of it all showcasing a familiar book series with the name Kennedy Prescott on the bottom.
My attention comes back into the main room as an older couple I remember to be some of my parents’ friends wave from a table in the corner.
A few more are taken by high school students pouring over textbooks, no doubt cramming for school today.
A family with young children all clad in hiking gear sits on one of the couches while marking up a paper map with wide smiles full of excitement.
The whole place was full of warmth and comfort. The vibe was something this town lacked when I was growing up. I can’t imagine how much time I would have spent here if this had been open when I was in high school.
Stepping up to the counter, my eyes travel over the bakery case filled with homemade treats. Scones covered in toppings, fresh sourdough loaves, colorful cake pops. Everything you could think of, it seemed Gwen had already thought of it and displayed it for you to enjoy.
“I’ll be right with you,” a soft voice calls from the back where I notice a swinging door is propped open. I take my time perusing the menu, deciding what I want to try first, only dropping my gaze when I hear footsteps working their way to the front.
“Welcome in. What can I get started for you?” Gwen’s question trails off when she materializes behind the counter and takes in her new customer, her plush lips parting in shock.
“Logan. I thought we weren’t meeting until later?
” Her brows furrow, leaving a crease between them that I want to reach and smooth with my thumb.
There’s a tray of fresh cinnamon rolls in her hands, which she sets on the counter behind her. She turns, opening the case that stands between us using a sliding door. Her gaze is doing a spectacular job of not meeting mine after the initial shock of finding me out here.
“Finished up my run and ran into your brother and Rowan outside. He talked up those right there, and there was no way I wasn’t going to see what the hype was about.
” I point to the pastry she’s taking her time situating on the shelf.
“Plus, I could really use some coffee. Haven’t had time to stock up just yet. ”
“Right,” she straightens the other trays that seem perfectly in place already before giving up and meeting me at the counter.
Gwen fidgets with her strawberry blond hair, adjusting the high ponytail.
The ends hit mid-back on her cream-colored sweater.
Her green eyes give me an apprehensive look, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.
“So,” she prompts. “A cinnamon roll. Anything else?” Gwen places the gooey treat in a bakery bag, not bothering to ask if I wanted it for here or to go.
“Iced latte with almond milk, please.”
She is already starting on my drink, pulling a shot before the whole order is out of my mouth.
I watch her move behind the counter with ease. “I remember you talking about wanting to open up something like this back in high school. I’m proud of you, Gwenny. Not a lot of people see their dreams come to light. But you always knew you would do it.”
Her green eyes flicker over to me. A flash within them I can’t pinpoint, before returning to the task of making my coffee. “Thanks. It was a labor of love. But I couldn’t have done it without Ophelia.”
I smile at the mention of her grandmother. A real national treasure in this town. “How is your grandmother, by the way?”
Gwen’s face softens as she places the lid on my cup and slides it over to me. “She’s doing great. You’ll probably see her around soon enough.”
Reaching into my pocket for my wallet, I produce my card in time for Gwen to hold her hand up to stop me.
“On the house.”
“Are you sure?”
“Think of it as a welcome back gift.”
“Thank you,” I tip my imaginary hat to her as I pocket my wallet.
She gives a half grin, just one side of her lips tipped up as a sparkle lights up in her eyes. “You can get your next one when you come back later.”
I raised my brows at her. “Awfully smug to assume I’ll want another.”
She shrugs, a playfulness I enjoyed seeing dancing in her eyes. “Not an assumption when I know how this goes. Don’t worry, you’ll be as addicted as everyone else soon enough.”
I know she’s talking about the coffee and pastry in my hands, but a part of me wonders if there’s something else I might be addicted to when I feel my chest tighten at the warmth at her smile.
Opening my mouth to say something, our locked gazes sever their connection at the sound of the front door opening.
“Welcome in,” Gwen smiles over my shoulder at the customer.
I have no urge to turn away from her until I notice the upward curve falter slightly.
The skin around her eyes tightens as her shoulders slam back.
The easy look that had come over her with our small talk—which had me almost giddy to see her walls begin to slide away—was gone in the blink of an eye.
She takes a small step back from where she was previously leaning against one side of the counter.
I want to ask her what’s wrong, but the sound of a theatrical gasp erupts behind me. I don’t even have the chance to turn around when arms are thrown around my shoulders and turn me quickly into a constricting hug.
I pull away from the woman trying to strangle the life out of me, only to get a few inches away.
But it’s enough for her to slam her lips on mine, sending me into an almost catatonic state as I try to figure out how to get myself out of this situation.
Because, having my ex-girlfriend land one on me right now was not even a thought I had this morning.