Chapter Nine
chef Logan
I have a dog.
If you would've asked me a year or two ago, this definitely wasn't in my plans.
But he’s sweet. He seemed just as lonely as me, and I couldn't leave him there knowing that.
We’re walking through town, and I’m almost to the little pet store we have when I see Logan across the street.
He’s with a woman, and a little girl.
I assume it's his sister and niece.
I know it sounds creepy, but I watch him for a minute. He seems so carefree with his niece, and it's adorable. She looks so much smaller than that day she came into my store. Probably because she's standing next to a mountain. He laughs, and I hear the rumble of it over here, then gives her a hug, and waves.
Before I can look away, he turns in my direction and our eyes meet.
The smile that spreads on his face is addicting.
I smile and wave, and then watch as he notices the dog.
He crosses the street, coming over to me.
“You didn't tell me you have a dog?”
Bending down, he pets Pudding on his head, and his tail starts wagging like crazy.
Of course he’d like him.
“Um, I didn't. He’s new.”
He quirks his brows and looks up at me, “You got a dog?”
“I did.”
He laughs, “Of course you did. He’s cute. What's his name?”
“Pudding.”
Logan looks at me, and the amusement in his eyes makes me laugh.
“Don’t look at me like that. I didn't name him.”
He holds his hands up in defense, “I didn't say anything.”
“You didn't have to, your face says it all.”
He watches me for a minute, but doesn’t say anything, and I wonder what he’s thinking right now.
“What made you get a dog?”
“I wanted one, I don't know. It was a last minute decision.”
“Did you prepare before you went and got him?” he asks.
“No. I told you, it was a last minute decision.”
He looks at me, and I can tell he knows it was an impulse decision.
“But the guy at the store gave me a paper with a list of things to get him, so I’m not completely unprepared.” I say.
He holds his hand out, “Here, let me see the paper.”
I hand over the paper, and watch as he reads it over.
His lips tug up in a smile.
“What? Is something missing?” I ask him.
“There's a phone number on here from Jacob.” he laughs, turning the page so I can see.
“What?”
I look the paper over, and sure enough, there it is.
Call me sometime- Jacob
I roll my eyes. “I didn't see that there. It’s the guy who helped me with Pudding.”
“Hey, I don’t need an explanation.” I watch his face, his jaw ticking, and if I’m not mistaken, he seems jealous.
“Ok. Well, I need to go get this stuff and get home.”
Logan hands the paper back, looking away from me, his jaw still tight.
“I’ll see you around?” I say, confused about his reaction.
He’s still looking away from me as if deep in thought, or trying not to say something, and as I turn to walk into the store, he says, “Do you want some help?”
“Huh?” I turn back to him.
“With the list. I could help you grab everything, and walk you home. It’s getting dark, and I would feel bad if I left you alone now.”
Nodding, I say, “Ok.” and he follows me into the store.
I end up buying way more than what was on the list. There's just so many cute things for dogs.
I got Pudding a new collar and leash, because the other one was gross, and who knows how old. And a tag with his name on it.
I also get him some shirts, because they're cute.
A bed, some food, treats, bowls, and a bunch of toys.
Logan carries most of the bags for me, and walks me back to my apartment.
Once we're at the door, I pull my keys out and unlock it, letting Pudding go in first, then turn and look at Logan.
“You can set those on the table, if you want.” I tell him.
I watch his brows rise with what I can only assume is surprise that I invited him in.
“Yeah, sure.” he answers, his tone an attempt at being casual, and I just smile to myself.
I lock the door behind him, and take my shoes off.
“The table is just around the corner in the kitchen.”
“Ok.”
I follow after him and stop when I see him standing in my kitchen. He looks huge everytime I see him, but he looks abnormally large in my tiny apartment.
He looks around, “This is a nice place you have. How long have you lived here?”
I feel like there's an unvoiced question in that question.
“Um, about a year.”
I watch him think, so I help clarify.
“I moved in here after.”
His eyes meet mine, and I wish I could read what he’s thinking.
“Ok.” is all he says.
Clearing my throat, I point to the fridge, “Do you want something to drink? I have juices and..water?”
That smile comes back, the one that shows his dimples, and I hate that my body has a reaction to it.
“Sure, water would be great.”
Walking over to my cabinets, I grab out a glass, then go to the fridge and pour him some water from my filter.
“Here you go.”
He takes the water, taking a sip, “Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
I watch him look around, and realize this is probably really awkward for him.
“I’m sorry, I don’t usually have company so I’m not good at entertaining. You don't have to stay, I mean if you have somewhere to go.”
“I don't.” he answers. Then adds, “Have somewhere to go, I mean. My night is free.”
“Oh, ok. Well in that case, you're welcome to hang out if you want?”
“Are you sure? I don't want to impose on your night.”
I think back to a couple hours ago. Me sitting here, feeling completely alone and sad. Maybe it would be nice to have him hang out for a little? I could order in more takeout?
“Are you in there?” he says, interrupting my thoughts.
“Oh. Sorry. No, you can stay, if you want. I’m just going to get him all set up, then I can order in food or something?”
“That sounds good.”
I smile at him, then we move into the living room.
I get all of Pudding's things out of the bag, and for a split second feel slightly overwhelmed with everything.
But once I start putting things away, and get his bed set up, it's not that much.
I’m putting his cage together, when I smell something coming from the kitchen. I pause, trying to figure it out, then decide to go investigate.
“Logan?”
“Yes, Charlie?”
“What are you doing?” I laugh as I come around the corner and see him standing in front of my stove.
“Well, you said you were going to order in food, and considering there’s still take out containers on your coffee table, I figured you'd enjoy a real meal.” he says, turning to look at me with that smile on his face. Then he adds, “I hope this is ok?”
I blush, hating that I forgot to clean up after myself. “Yeah, no, it's perfect. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. You didn't have much, so I just made some pasta and chicken.”
“That sounds perfect.” I smile up at him, and feel that electricity spark inside me as our eyes meet.
This might have been a bad idea.
He clears his throat, looking away, “Uh, yeah. So pasta and chicken. I saw wine in your fridge, and thought this would go nicely with it.”
“Right, ok.” I grab the wine, and a couple of glasses, then grab some plates and put them on the table.
“This all smells delicious. Do you cook a lot?” I ask him, just trying to make some conversation, and get to know him a little bit.
This man is essentially still a stranger, but I feel completely comfortable with him.
“Yeah. I used to cook all the time, and then I was deployed. I still cooked there, but you don’t get a lot of variety.”
I nod, trying to understand what it must've been like over there. I can't even imagine. I watch his dog tags swing against his chest. He must've seen horrible things over there.
“I told myself if I made it home, I’d cook every chance I got.” he looks over at me and smiles, “Then I saw the takeout and couldn't let you eat that crap for the second time today.”
I sit at the table, watching him work.
He knows his way around a kitchen, and it's unnecessarily attractive.
He catches me watching him, and I quickly look away.
I watch a smirk spread on his face, and instantly feel embarrassed that he caught me watching him.
“This will be ready in a minute.” he says, as he tosses in ingredients I didn’t know I had.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask as I hand him his glass of whine, knowing there probably isn't because the only things I can cook are either microwave foods, or things you just stick in the oven.
“No, I’ve got it. You just relax.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” he waves me off like it’s really no big deal, so I go and sit at the table, and take a sip of my wine.
“So, the military. How long were you in?” I ask, hoping it’s not a touchy subject. “If you don’t mind me asking. We don’t have to talk about it.”
I see his shoulders tense a little, but he smiles at me over his shoulder, “I don't mind. I was in for about 4 years, mainly schooling and learning the basics starting out, then deployed for a couple months. This last time though, I had been deployed for 8 months. It was one of the rougher goes.”
“Ah. I’m sorry. It must be hard being away from family for that long.”
He shrugs his shoulders, then sips his wine.
“I don't really have family besides Sarah, and Hazel. That was hard though. She’s a single mom, so a lot of the time I stepped in as the male role model is Hazel's life. But being gone so much made that hard.”
I can't even imagine. “I’m sorry. She seems like an amazing kid.” I say, and then realize he doesnt know I've met her.
“You know Hazel?” he asks.
“I don't know her. She came into my shop one day to buy a teapot with birthday money. She’s cute.”
His head nods as he turns, and slides some delicious looking food onto my plate, then his.
“She has a weird obsession with those things. After I brought her that set, the one I bought from you, she insisted on going back and looking for more. The one she got is beautiful. She keeps it up on its own shelf at all times.”
I smile, knowing that she’s loving that teapot as much as I did.
“What about you?” he asks.
“Hm? What about me?”
He chuckles, “Family. Do you have family.”
“Oh. Yes. Well, just my mom. And Cassie is basically family. I’m sure I have some long lost cousins or something somewhere, but it’s just me and my mom.”
“I saw your mom, at your party. You look just like her.”
I don't know why, but the compliment makes my cheeks flush.
“Thank you. I actually get told that quite a bit.”
He smiles at me, and takes a bite of chicken. I do the same, mainly because my stomach just growled at the smell of this, and because I don't know what to say to him when he’s looking at me like that.
I take a bite of chicken with some of the pasta, and before I can stop myself, a moan slips free.
“Oh my god this is incredible.” I tell him.
He watches me intently. “It must be if it's making sounds like that come from you.”
Heat fills my face in embarrassment.
“I..it’s good. Ok? Don’t judge me.” I tell him
“Hey, I’m not judging. Moan all you want, I won't mind one bit.”
My fork slips out of my hand, and makes a loud clank on my plate.
Logan starts chuckling to himself, clearly enjoying watching me fall apart at his words.
He probably would, like that.
No.
No Charlie. We aren't going to think like that.
“Just eat your food.” I point to his plate, and he just laughs some more, but listens.
Pudding finally decides to join us, only to beg for food, so I get up and fill his bowl with the food I got him.
“I know this isn't as good as what you're smelling, but I promise it’s better for you.”
I set his bowl down, then sit back down and find Logan watching me.
“What?” I ask him.
“You're talking to the dog.”
“Yes, I am. He’s a good listener.”
“Is that why you got him?’
“Maybe. He doesn't back talk or complain.”
He shakes his head and laughs at me under his breath while he takes a bite.
We finish the rest of the meal, and sit across from each other kind of awkwardly.
Now what?
He stands, grabbing our plates, and takes them to the sink to wash.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. Really. I’ll just rinse them and throw them in the dishwasher later.”
“I don't mind. I like to keep my hands busy.”
His hands.
I unintentionally look down at his hand as they wash our plates.
They are massive, and veiny.
And I have got to get these thoughts under control.
“Ok. Thanks.” I say, and walk into the living room bringing the wine bottle and glasses with me.
A minute later, Logan is behind me.
He sits in the chair across from my couch, and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Charlie?” He says my name like a question.
“Yes?”
“Is this awkward for you?”
I blush, “Is what awkward?”
He sits back, “Me being here.”
I shake my head. “No. No it’s not. I’m sorry, I’m just in my head and keep getting distracted.'' I say, and hope he doesn't ask why. Quickly, I add, “I did tell you I’m not good at having company over.”
“That's fair. You did say that. I can go, it’s getting late anyways.”
I feel myself deflate at the thought of him leaving. I want him to stay. I want to get to know him some, but I’m just so damn awkward.
“You can stay, really. I just need to get comfortable, and relax. I’m not used to people coming over, let alone men.” the admission feels weird to say, but it also feels good?
“How can I help you get comfortable? What do you need?” Logan asks.
I think for a second, “I need to change. I’ve been in these clothes all day, and it's been a weird emotional day, and there's dog hair all over me.”
“You want to go change clothes?” he asks, and I nod.
“But you don't want me to leave?”
“I mean, unless you want to?”
He watches me for a minute, then says, “No, I really don't want to.”
I find myself smiling at him, “Ok. Then give me 10 minutes and I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home. The remote for the tv is on the table, you can put something on if you want.”
“Go do what you need to, I’ll be here.” He says, shooing me away.
I get up off the couch, and start walking to my room with Pudding in tow.
I grab a pair of joggers, and a sweatshirt, toss my hair up into a messy bun, then change quickly and wipe my face down. Just doing this has me feeling more like myself.
I walk back out, and see Logan is sitting on the couch, facing the tv, watching some cooking show.
This guy really likes food, doesn't he?
He hears me come back in and sits up, turning to look at me.
It's like someone hits pause on him, because he goes completely still.
His eyes travel up my body, and I swear I can feel them.
“Is..is something wrong?” I ask, looking down at my clothes.
“N..no. Nothing at all.” he stutters, then adds, “I can move back to the chair, I just couldn't really see the tv from there.”
“No, you're fine there.” I can't help the giggle that slips out of me as I look at him sitting on my couch.
My couch is a decent size, but his body takes up most of it.
He smiles, and my eyes land on those dimples. “What are you giggling about?”
I sit next to him, tucking my legs up under me. “I’m sorry, you just make my couch look like it was meant to be in a doll house.” I cover my mouth, trying to stifle my laugh.
He looks at the couch, then at himself and laughs. “It’s not that big of a couch.”
“It's a decent size couch, you are just large.” a laugh slips, and I can’t stop myself.
Logan shoves my knee playfully. He watches me for a second, then looks back at the tv.
“So, cooking shows? That's your thing?” I ask him, pointing at the tv.
“Yeah, sometimes. There wasn't anything else so I just threw this on.”
“You didn't have to turn the tv on.” I laugh, “It was just a suggestion.”
“In that case,” he clicks the remote, turning the tv off and turns to face me. “I’d rather talk to you, to be completely honest.”
“We can do that.” I say, swallowing the thickness that's suddenly in my throat.
He smiles, and I'm assuming he can tell he has an effect on me, despite me trying to ignore it.
But to be fair, we are sitting very close, and his eyes haven't left mine.
So there's that.
“Tell me something about you.” he says, so casually. But he’s also fidgeting with his fingers, so maybe this isn't only affecting me.
“Um. Let me think.” I tell him.
“No, no thinking. What's the first thing that comes to your mind.”
Our legs are almost touching and I want to know what it feels like.
“I like the color brown?” I blurt out instead, trying to hide the heat of embarrassment I feel in my face.
He chuckles, and looks down at his hands.
“Brown is a good color. That's the first thing you thought of though?”
“I mean you kind of put me on the spot, where else was my mind going to go?”
“I don't know, a childhood memory. A favorite movie to watch. A book you like.”
“Ok see you didn't ask that. You asked for the first thing that comes to mind, and when I’m put on the spot it's going to be something random." I laugh and shake my head, then lean up and grab my glass, taking a sip.
He smiles at me, “I like that sound.” then takes a sip of his wine.
I freeze, “What sound?”
“Your laugh.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry,” he says, looking down at his glass.
“Don’t apologize.” I tell him, but he just shakes his head.
“No, I need to, because you’ve made it clear you're not interested in anything other than being friends, so I apologize.”
“Logan, friends can complement each other.”
“I know.” is all he says.
“It’s the wine. Makes people say stuff.” I tell him, which makes me think maybe I should slow it down.
His eyes meet mine, and there's something in them that I just can't put my finger on.
We hold eye contact for a minute, and every inch of my body is telling me to lean into him, but I know I shouldn't. I can't.
“Uh, I should probably go.” he says before I can say anything.
Logan stands, setting his glass down and I stand up with him, “Oh. Ok. I guess it is getting late.”
“Yeah.” he walks to my door, grabbing the handle, then turns to me.
“Goodnight, Charlie. Thanks for dinner.” he winks at me, and starts walking down the hallway.
“Goodnight Logan.”
I watch as he disappears into the elevator, and hate that he’s leaving so soon. It’s probably best though.
I shut the door, leaning against it and stare at my wine.
“Stop making me feel things.”
I groan to myself and walk into the kitchen.
He cleaned up everything. The trash, the dishes. All of it.
This would be so much easier if he wasn't…I don't know what he is. But he makes it hard to keep my wants in check.
Maybe I just need to keep my distance from him for a little while.