Page 14 of A Veteran’s Second Chance

“You’ve had to transfer him? Now the asshole will think he still affects you.”

I can’t win with Cassie, and I can’t tell her he still affects me, and it’s freaking annoying.

“It’s fine, Cassie.” I open the fridge and stare blankly at the contents. “Tell me about you. How’s Belgium?”

“Bavaria, not Belgium. And don’t change the subject.”

Deciding I haven’t got the energy to cook, I grab a loaf of bread and pop two slices in the toaster.

I can’t admit to my sister that I kissed Logan three days ago. I promised her I wouldn’t get involved with him again. Not that one kiss is getting involved. It was a mistake, a wonderful, toe-tingling mistake.

We’ve had another session since then, the final one before Cliff takes over, and this time I was prepared when Logan took his shirt off. I almost drooled on his back, and I had to resist licking his skin, but I did resist. And I didn’t kiss him. What I’m feeling is nothing more than a physical attraction. A very big, all-consuming physical attraction, but that’s all it is. Cassie wouldn’t understand. She’ll tell me off for letting him kiss me, when the truth is I leaned into him. I wanted him to kiss me, and it was freaking amazing when he did.

The doorbell chimes, saving me from having to answer any more of Cassie’s questions.

“I have to go. Someone’s at the door.”

“On a Friday night? If it’s him, Savvy, promise me you won’t let him in.”

I don’t want to make any more promises I might not be able to keep.

“Bye, Cassie.”

I hang up before she can say anything else and talk sense into me, because ever since the kiss three days ago, all I can think about is Logan’s warm lips and his hands on my ass and the bulge poking out of his sweatpants.

“It won’t be him.”

I pat Panda, who’s too busy eating his dinner to care that there’s someone at the door. Or to notice that I smooth my hair in the mirror and pull the wrinkles out of my t-shirt, because it probably won’t be Logan, but just in case it might be, I want to look good.

I open the door, and my heart stutters. Logan stands with one hand in his pocket, exuding sexiness in a checkered shirt that’s open at the front, revealing a gray t-shirt pulled tight across his chest. My fingers tingle from remembering how I trailed them over his body in the treatment room, from his pectoralis minor to the solid pectoralis major and the hard ridges of his abdominal obliques.

“You got plans for dinner?”

I fold my arms over my chest because no matter how much I want to continue my exploration of his chest, I am not going out to dinner with the man who broke my heart.

“I’m not going out with you, Logan.”

“We’re not going out.” He holds up a brown shopping bag. “I’m cooking for you.”

When I knew Logan, he could barely boil an egg. He blamed joining the military at seventeen and never needing to fend for himself.

“You can cook?”

He claps his free hand to his chest, mock-offended. “You’re not the only one who skilled up.”

I’m curious to see what he can do. But if Cassie knew I was considering inviting him into my house, she’d get on the next plane and come back here to talk sense into me.

Logan must sense my hesitation because he holds up his free hand. “It’s just dinner. I want to make things up to you, and I thought cooking for you might be a good start.”

This isn’t Cassie’s decision. I’m a grown woman, and if I want to let an old friend cook dinner for me, then I should.

“All right.” I take a step back and let Logan into my home. As he brushes past, I catch his scent and my entire body lights up.

I should send him away. I should run and hide. But instead, I close the door behind him.

Logan follows me through to the open-plan living room and drops his shopping bag on the kitchen counter.

Panda looks up and meows, and Logan bends down to pat him. “Hey, buddy, what’s your name?”