Chapter 11

ChapterEleven

Logan’s boots crunched over the dry leaves as he went out to check on the goats. He had to replace the sign next to their pen.

No donuts.The goats absolutely were not supposed to eat the apple-cider donuts he sold during apple-picking season, but that didn’t stop every other kid from trying to feed them donuts. And these goats did not know what was good for them.

Kinda like him. Kinda like how he hadn’t stopped thinking about Jeanie since he spent the night with her. For two damn days now, Jeanie had played on a loop in his head. Jeanie’s delighted grin when he told a lame joke, Jeanie’s enthusiasm for every type of snack food, Jeanie’s rich dark-roast scent, Jeanie’s soft body pressed against his.

He hammered the sign back to the fence post hard enough to rattle the slats all the way down, taking out his frustration on the wood. The sound reverberated through the quiet fields. A flock of crows flew to the treetops, their squawking disrupting the quiet even more.

He was being ridiculous, getting sucked in way too fast, just like last time. He barely knew this woman. Even if she had shared bits of herself in the dark of the café. Even if he wanted to know all about her.

Jeanie had barely been here for two weeks. She was starting a completely new job, in a new town, and this was all after she’d found her boss keeled over on his desk. Who knew if she’d even be here if it wasn’t for that. Jeanie was running, and there was no guarantee that she would stop here. He’d be damned if he fell for another woman who was only passing through. He was done with people who used his town, his life, as some sort of pit stop on their soul-searching tour.

Hadn’t Jeanie said she’d wanted things to be perfect here? That she had some kind of vision for how she wanted her life to be here? Well, there was no such thing as perfect, and he wasn’t going to be the one caught trying to make Jeanie’s life vision come true. He couldn’t. It wouldn’t work.

It never did.

The goats, Dylan and Marley, or the Bobs as his nana liked to call them, stared at him forlornly like they knew the sign meant the end of their donut days.

‘It’s for your own good,’ Logan muttered, and the Bobs bleated in response. They loved those damn donuts.

Logan trudged back to the farmhouse, wishing there was more to do today to take his mind off a certain someone. But it was a Wednesday morning in October; it was a quiet time for his little farm.

The orchard was only open Friday through Sunday for pick-your-own apples and pumpkins, with a hayride pulled by his grandfather atop his trusty tractor. It was the only real attraction. Logan refused to add all the nonsense some of the other farms around here did in the fall. No bounce houses, or corn mazes, or pony rides. Not that he had a pony. It was just the apples and pumpkins, donuts from Annie’s, and the hayrides. Oh, and the Bobs. But the kids and families loved it. The money the farm made from pick-your-own apples kept the farm afloat for the whole winter.

But nearly halfway through October and the apples were almost done and even the pumpkin patch looked pretty picked over. The last big event of the season was the Fall Festival in town. Logan always supplied the pumpkins for the carving contest. He’d set dozens aside in the barn for the occasion.

Unfortunately, between his still competent grandparents, his tendency to want to get ahead, and the diligent seasonal workers he’d hired, there wasn’t much to do on this particular Wednesday when he really needed something to do. Fixing that sign hadn’t taken nearly long enough.

He only made deliveries on Thursdays, and the farmer’s market wasn’t until Sunday afternoon. He could work on invoices for the seeds and supplies they’d need for spring, but he was feeling too antsy for that type of work today.

Maybe a cup of coffee would help.

He was dumber than the damn goats.

But he climbed in his truck and headed into town anyway.

* * *

Logan realized his mistake as soon as he stepped into the café.

It was Wednesday.

Book club day.

The bells over the door jingled as he stepped in, and five heads turned in his direction from their perches around the center table. Six, if you included Jeanie who stood next to the table, smiling her big Jeanie smile. His heart rode a roller coaster in his chest at the sight of her.

He should have stayed with the goats.

‘Logan! Hey there!’ Kaori’s voice filled the small space and Nancy waved him over, as though he couldn’t find them in the crowd of three other people hurrying out with their to-go cups.

‘Come on over here and say hi to your old teacher,’ Nancy said with a grin, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Logan didn’t really want to know what kinks the woman who taught him to tie his shoes was into at the moment.

He sighed and ran a hand down his beard. There was no way around it. He made his way over to the table and nodded to the group.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like these people. They were perfectly fine, normal people. Well, normal by Dream Harbor standards anyway.

But he didn’t want their pity or their sympathetic looks or their ‘help’ finding someone new, which seemed to be all they wanted to give him since the Christmas-tree-lighting debacle. It was like he was five years old again, suddenly without a mother but with an entire town of people wanting to check on him and bring him treats.

They were kind-hearted folk, all saddened by the loss of his mother and with no outlet for that pain other than to heap love on him, her baby, but he had his grandparents. He hadn’t needed replacement parents at the time, and he certainly didn’t need them twenty-five years later.

Not to mention that every time he saw them, he had to relive the memory of being down on one knee in the cold and the look on Lucy’s horrified face. The humiliation, the failure was still too close to the surface, and seeing this group just dredged it all back up again.

‘Hey, everyone. Jeanie.’ He tipped his head in her direction and caught her gaze for a second too long. A slight flush broke out across the pale skin above the neckline of her sweater. It was a pale gray today, soft against her curves.

‘Seeing you in town in the middle of a weekday feels like a Bigfoot sighting,’ Jacob said with a laugh.

Logan managed to tear his gaze away from Jeanie to respond. ‘Quiet day. Just came in for a coffee.’

‘That was the nice thing about Lucy, she at least brought you into town more often.’

Well, damn. That didn’t take long.

Nancy’s wife, Linda, was oblivious to the horrified glances the rest of the book club were flashing in her direction. Linda was never big on social cues or not bringing up topics of conversation that no one wanted to discuss. He still remembered the Christmas party where she mentioned both his long-gone father and dead mother in one evening. Nana nearly kicked her out on her rear.

‘Yep, that was nice, I guess,’ he said, shifting on his feet. This was why he didn’t come into town. The constant reminders of his failure. ‘Not nice enough for her to stick around for in the end, though.’ He nodded again and left the book club to their whispered admonishments of Linda’s misstep. The last thing he wanted was to talk about Lucy in front of Jeanie, and especially not with the thoroughly unhelpful help of the book club.

Jeanie followed him to the counter to take his order, even though Crystal, who’d worked at the café since high school, was already standing there.

‘The usual?’ Jeanie asked, her tone light, even with the concerned crease in her brow. She obviously hadn’t heard the full Lucy story yet or her dark eyes would be filled with pity, and he didn’t want that; didn’t want Jeanie filled in on his failed attempt at romance.

Or even worse than pity, she’d think Lucy was crazy for turning down his grand gesture. But if Jeanie was a grand-gesture fan, she was out of luck because Logan was all grand-gestured out. He shook his head; what was he even thinking? Jeanie didn’t want anything from him except his damn coffee order.

‘Yes, thanks.’ He nodded hello to Crystal, who smiled and went to refill the creamer bottles. Jeanie brought him his black coffee in a to-go cup. He’d left his reusable one in the truck in his rush to get in here. One mistake after another today.

‘I figured you weren’t staying.’ She glanced over at the table of book clubbers. They’d clearly moved on from his sad tale and were back to cackling about their latest read. ‘But I’m glad you came in. I mean ... it’s nice to see you.’ Jeanie’s face flushed, and he wanted to tuck the escaped hairs behind her ear, to brush his fingers against her soft skin again, to hear the little intake of breath she’d made when he’d done it.

He shoved his hands into his pockets.

‘Nice to see you, too.’ The understatement of the year. Seeing her was far more complicated than ‘nice’ could ever communicate. He simultaneously wanted to jump the counter and give her the kiss he didn’t get a chance to two nights ago and run the hell out of there and never look back.

Instead, he stood awkwardly in front of her hoping she’d chatter on about something so he could stay here looking at her for just a few more minutes.

Lucky for him, Jeanie always had something to chat about. ‘Casper is settling in nicely. He sleeps at the end of my bed every night and it’s helping me sleep better, too. Except for when he sits on my face around five every morning. Who needs an alarm clock anymore? Not me!’ she finished with a laugh.

Logan laughed too, mostly to avoid making any comments about face-sitting. His composure was unraveling at a dangerous pace.

At some point during her story, Logan had leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter between them. Jeanie’s body bent towards his, as well, like they couldn’t keep space between them. He sure as hell didn’t want to.

‘You named him Casper?’ His voice was low so only she could hear it.

‘Well, he was my ghost. And he turned out to be friendly, so just kinda fit...’ She grinned, and his innards rearranged themselves.

‘Makes sense,’ he said, cursing the cat again for being found so soon, for ruining any excuse he had to see more of Jeanie, especially at night, especially side by side on her floor with moonlight streaming in the window. Damn cat.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, breaking the moment. He stood and apologized, stepping out of the way for Mr. Prescott, the mailman.

‘I should go,’ he told Jeanie over the hiss of the coffee machine.

‘Okay, sure.’ Her cheeks were flushed pink from work, and loose tendrils of hair curled around her temples. She looked happy, like she belonged here in this cozy little shop, chatting it up with the people he’d known his whole life. She looked like she fit.

He wanted her to fit.

‘Here you go, Mr. Prescott. Have a good day,’ she said, handing the older man his drink. She turned back to Logan and knocked the wind out of him with her next words. ‘Whoever Lucy was, I think she was a fool to leave.’ She gave him a soft smile and then got started on the next customer’s order without even missing a beat, leaving Logan to stumble back out into the sunshine wondering what to do next.

Because nothing about Jeanie was ever what he expected.