Chapter 3
Dani
Iwas still recovering from the wedding, the night before, when I received a text from Cami at eight-thirty on a Sunday morning.
No excuses.
Cami: Also I’m married, which means
I’m an adult now, so
you have to listen to me.
Cami: And don’t be weird.
Cami: You’re going to be weird.
Don’t be.
I stared at my phone for a full ten seconds, then typed back:
Me: You say “don’t be weird” like
that’s an option.
Cami: It is. Try it.
Me: If you ambush me,
I’m suing.
Cami: Lol. See you soon.
I had found myself in bed by eleven o’clock last night. And while eleven for most single woman in their 20’s might sound early, it was late for me. I’d always been more focused on work, studying, and becoming a better version of myself, which left little room for nights out or hangovers.
Logan had left a couple of hours earlier without saying a word. His silent departure matched his usual standoffish demeanor. Harper on the other hand, lying slung over Logan’s shoulder, gave me a lazy wave as they walked out.
I told myself it was just brunch: waffles, bacon, and coffee. A friendly catch-up with my best friend and her brand-new husband.
Except, I changed my outfit three times before leaving my apartment and I braved the 405 before noon, with a hangover.
By the time I pulled into the little diner near the pier, I’d given myself a full pep talk in the car.
You’re here for Cami and Hunter, I reminded myself. Not for the handsome, broody, former Marine whose jawline seemed carved from stone and whose southern drawl made my heart pound faster than I wanted to admit.
Stewart’s Diner was bright and beachy, with whitewashed brick and turquoise tile benches out front. A neon sign in the window read Stewart’s Diner in a classic red font with a flickering ‘Open 24 Hours’.
Inside, the air smelled like syrup and cheap coffee and the kind of greasy comfort food that could fix a hangover and ruin your diet at the same time.
Cami spotted me first, waving like she was guiding a plane in.
“Oh, Daniela!” she called. Cami was one of the few people I allowed to call me by my full name, because it was always in love and never used as a weapon.
I waved back, forcing my feet to move.
And then I saw Logan again, properly this time.
He sat across from Hunter. The sleeves of his red flannel were rolled up, forearms braced on the table like he was holding down the chaos by sheer will. His expression was neutral in that way that screamed I am not having fun, as his eyes tracked the room with focused precision.
As I made my way to the table, Harper spotted me first. She sat beside Logan in the booth, owning the space with her presence. Her sandy blonde hair fell in loose waves, and she wore a flowy pink princess dress, and the kind of larger-than-life energy that could power the entire city.
“Ms. Dani!” she squealed, waving her fork like a baton. “You came!”
“Of course I came,” I said, weaving between tables. “I had to come see my favorite little ballerina.”
“She means me,” Harper announced to everyone within a six-table radius.
Logan’s mouth twitched. “Modesty’s still a work in progress.”
I slid into the only open seat, right next to Logan.
The vinyl bench was warm from his body heat, and the space between us was not enough causing my pulse to thud wild and insistently. I was trying desperately to seem normal, to ignore how the memory of his hand at my waist last night buzzed through me like static.
“Hey,” I said, like I hadn’t rehearsed that in the car.
He glanced at me. His eyes the same mossy green as last night. Still too observant, too knowing.
“Hey,” he said.
The word was flat but his gaze lingered on my face a fraction longer than “polite” required.
Something tightened low in my stomach as I reached for the menu as if it could shield me, but before Logan could say anything else, two little whirlwinds barreled around the end of the booth.
Cami and Hunter’s twins, Avery and Chloe, slammed to a stop beside Harper.
“Harper!” Avery cried, breathless. “We found the syrup fountain!”
Chloe bounced on her toes. “It’s magical!”
Cami groaned into her coffee. “Please tell me that’s a figure of speech.”
Zeke, Cami’s oldest, leaned into view, grinning like a guilty criminal, maple evidence smeared across his shirt. “It’s not.”
“Awesome!” Harper clapped her hands. “Let’s go!”
The four of them disappeared toward the buffet line like a sugar-seeking tactical unit.
Logan’s eyes closed briefly. Like he was counting to ten.
Hunter looked like he was trying not to laugh.
Logan leaned forward then, elbows on the table, voice low. “So, Counselor,” he said, “looks like you survived all the wedding madness?” That low Southern twang wrapped around the words, snagging my attention.
The way he said it, like he was testing the shape of me in his mouth, made my throat go dry.
“Barely,” I said, keeping my tone light because I didn’t trust anything else. “My feet may never forgive me. But the cake helped.”
He huffed, although not quite a laugh.
Progress.
Across the table, Cami sipped her coffee with the satisfied smugness of someone who had absolutely engineered this entire morning.
“Enjoying your coffee?” she asked me, innocent as sin.
“Loving it,” I muttered.
Cami smiled wide causing Hunter to cough, suspiciously, like he was choking down laughter.
The conversation eventually slipped into something easier after that: light teasing, harmless questions, the kind of back-and-forth that didn’t demand much but still felt intimate because it was us talking, not the whole table.
At some point, his gaze lingered. Just a fraction. It wasn’t flirty or obvious. It was the kind of attention that made me aware of the space between our knees, the warmth along my arm, the way his shoulder brushed mine every time someone bumped the booth behind us.
I asked about Harper’s obsession with glitter and his mouth tugged into a reluctant smile that was infectious, and almost boyish, in a way that caught me off guard.
“Found glitter in my truck for three weeks after her last project,” he admitted.
“Three weeks?” I gasped. “That’s not a truck anymore. That’s a craft store.”
He shot me a look, shaking his head. “Still don’t find it funny.”
I smiled into my coffee, enjoying the friction. The gruffness. The way he didn’t give easy warmth, but when it happened, it felt earned.
“She looks like you. Except for her hair. Does she get that from her mom?”
Logan’s jaw immediately tightened as his gaze dropping briefly to the table before lifting again.
The second the words left my mouth, I knew immediately that I’d gone too far, invaded a boundary I hadn’t even seen.
I hadn’t meant to probe or let curiosity get ahead of me, but heat crept up my neck as I resisted the urge to backtrack, explain, or fix it before it worsened.
Before I could act, Harper’s bright, easy voice cut through the tension, breaking the moment before it settled deeper.
“Daddy!” she shouted. “Zeke dropped his pancake in the syrup fountain!”
Cami choked on her coffee. “I’m sorry—what?”
Logan pushed back his chair with a slow sigh. “Be right back,” he said.
Hunter followed him instinctively, patting Logan’s shoulder as they navigated through the cluster of tables like two men going into battle.
I watched Logan move across the diner. His broad shoulders and measured steps parted the crowd as people unconsciously shifted out of his way.
Across the diner, Harper pointed dramatically at the scene of the crime, making it clear Zeke was guilty, while the twins giggled like tiny gremlins nearby.
Logan crouched down, saying something in a low, hushed voice.
All four kids froze.
Then laughed.
Logan turned to Harper, gently wiping syrup off her chin, his movements gentle. After she was clean, he kissed the top of her head—a quick, tender gesture that contrasted with his normally stoic demeanor.
My chest tightened. Not with longing, but with recognition. That wasn’t a man who was “fine.” But he was a man who showed up anyway.
When he came back, Harper trailed behind him, wiping her sticky hands on her dress, grin completely undeterred.
“Crisis averted,” Hunter said, sitting back down next to Cami. “No casualties except a pancake.”
“Tragic,” I said, dramatically.
“Heroic rescue,” Cami countered.
“Definitely commendable service,” I chimed in, and couldn’t stop myself from sneaking a glance at Logan.
His eyes met mine briefly, but it was clear that his guard had slipped back into place on the walk back to the table.
Cami caught the look and, with a knowing expression, traced a small heart with her index finger along the side of her mug telling me she saw that.
She always saw everything.
As I shot a look back, Harper tugged on my sleeve, completely oblivious to the undercurrent. “Ms. Dani, can we sit together next time? Daddy says I need a brunch buddy who doesn’t throw food.”
Logan muttered, “I didn’t say it like that.”
“Yes, you did,” Harper said confidently.
I smiled. “I’d love to be your brunch buddy,” I told her, tapping her nose. “But only if you share your whipped cream.”
“Deal”
She beamed and scooted back into the booth between Logan and me, as if locking in her new seating arrangement permanently.
Logan’s gaze shot back to me. A warning? A question? Maybe both.
Despite my calm expression, my heart pounded relentlessly as we all dug back into brunch, laughter echoing against my nerves and excitement twinging beneath my ribs.
But inside, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Logan’s stillness had changed the air. I knew that kind of silence. It wasn’t a lack of feeling; it was too much of it.
And the most dangerous part?
A piece of me wanted to step closer to it.
To press my palm against the wall and see if it would give.
Because I’ve spent my whole life proving I can handle hard things.
And Logan Carter looked like the hardest thing in the room.