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He shakes his head. “It was fun for me. There’s some math involved, but not as much as you think.”
“I’m terrible at math. Like need-a-calculator-to-compute-basic-multiplication terrible.”
Maggie and Rainey blitz by in the middle of a game of tag and interrupt our conversation. I use the natural break to ask what’s on my mind.
“Why the move to Kentucky? I can’t imagine it’s the weather.”
He laughs in agreement. “We had an unexpected change and needed to be closer to family.” Logan shuffles his feet, offering no further explanation. “What about you? What brought you to Alexandria?”
“My oldest friend grew up here and moved back after college. I didn’t have a game plan, so I followed her. Is that lame?”
“Nah. Even if they make little sense to others, we all have our reasons for doing things,” he answers.
“What are your hobbies?”
“Really? The obligatory ‘What do you do for fun?’ question?” Logan teases. “Let me think.”
“You need to think? About what you do for fun?”
He ignores my teasing, looking over his shoulder to keep track of Maggie. When he’s satisfied she’s safe, he admits, “It’s been a while since I’ve had time for fun. Our lives were uprooted with the move. Fun’s not been on my radar for a while.”
“We’ll have to fix that,” I blurt out, immediately regretting my mouth getting ahead of my brain.
Will he misconstrue my words and believe I’m looking for awe? My face flushes. Logan’s either a gracious man or the comment didn’t register because he doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he pulls his hands up behind his head and leans back to stretch. His shirt rides up just enough for my eyes to trace the lines from his torso down. I kick myself. If my hormones don’t get their act together soon, they’re going to get me in big trouble.
Believing everyone has something they enjoy, I continue prodding and learn Logan readVerityby Colleen Hoover a few months ago after discovering the book by accident on TikTok. She’s my favorite author, and I can’t help but gush before offering to recommend other books. He asks about my favorite movie (easily10 Things I Hate About You) and then shares my favorite fact I’ve learned about him so far: he’s got a not-so-guilty obsession with rom-coms and chick-flicks. He reveals no shame at all when he tells me, just admitting to liking what he likes.
Colleen Hoover and rom-coms? All hope for me is lost.
Logan’s stomach growls, marking the end of the date—theplaydate. I steal a look at the time on my phone and I’m floored to find we’ve talked for two hours straight. It felt like thirty minutes. Wrangling both girls is a team effort as they whine and complain they don’t want to leave yet, but Logan holds the gate open, and I escort them out.
“See ya later.”
“See you.” He waves, adding, “Want to do this again sometime?”
“Let the girls play?”
“Yeah—that and talk. It’s nice to talk to someone I’m not related to,” he says with a grin.
I tilt my head and take Logan in, unable to stop my own smile from spreading across my face. “We can arrange that.” I stick my head into the back of my car to buckle Rainey in, and she continues whining that she wasn’t ready to leave the park. Unable to focus and feeling completely frazzled, I forget to share my number with Logan.
I slide into the driver’s seat and watch Logan in the rearview mirror as he buckles Maggie in. After shutting his car door, he leans his head back and closes his eyes, unaware I’ve been entranced by his every movement, I reflect on the serious parts of our conversation. He cracked open just enough to make me interested, but not enough to know anything real about him. Whatever brought him to Kentucky seems to weigh heavily on him.
I’m concerned about how quiet our ride home is until I notice Rainey passed out and sweaty, exhausted from the long stretch of play. Her shoulder-length curls and whirls I styled this morning are back to their natural, disorderly state. Fast asleep, she’s my peaceful princess.
I preheat the stove for dinner before asking, “How’s cheese pizza sound?”
“Good,” Rainey mumbles, still waking up from her car nap.
“Have you ever made a pizza from scratch?”
“What’s ‘from scratch’? Taking it out of the freezer? Dad lets me cut the plastic off . . .”
“Nope. I love frozen pizzas, too, but from scratch is rolling out the dough and shaping it. Then you put the sauce and cheese on before you bake it. It’s fun. Want to try?”
The chance to try something new wakes Rainey fully, and she nods enthusiastically. I pull over a chair to the kitchen island and she climbs up. I stand behind her and help her unpackage the store-bought, refrigerated dough.
“Like this?” she asks.
