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I burst out laughing, pointing at him and managing to gasp out, “What is that?”
He looks down at his chest, then spreading his arms wide to give me a full view, he says, “Hey, I thought you more than anyone would appreciate my apron. This practical, though ridiculous, item was Blake’s idea of a birthday present.”
My shoulders are still shaking from laughter. “I love it. But just so you know, you have lost all rights to criticize my fashion choices ever again.”
“Fair call.” His eyes are smiling behind his slightly steamed-up glasses. I do like him wearing his glasses. It gives him Clark Kent vibes. And he certainly has the muscles to transform into Superman. Tonight’s fitted white T-shirt is a reminder of the peek I got weeks ago.
I pour a generous amount of the red wine into the two glasses beside the bottle on the counter. “What’s the occasion?”
“You said the other night you wanted to share a meal again so I decided to cook. It was my turn after you bought the takeout last time. Is that okay? Or did you have other plans?”
I wave my hands about. “No, this is great. I didn’t have any plans. Besides, we do have something to celebrate, I think I’ve found my new studio space.”
He turns away from the cooktop again. “Really? That’s great,” he says, wiping his hands down over his apron and smudging Grumpy Cat’s face with a streak of red sauce.
Oh my God. When did moody Logan get replaced by this charming man? My heart is fluttering in my chest. No man, lover, or friend has ever surprised me with a home-cooked meal.
Damn, I don’t need to be thinking about Logan alongside the word lover. Logan only wants to be my friend, end of story. I bend to take a sip of wine in an attempt to hide the blush that I know is rapidly turning my cheeks pink. I’m not a blusher but that’s twice in two weeks that I’ve been caught blushing in front of this man.
Logan places a steamy bowl of chili in front of me, then takes the same barstool as the other night.
“Go on,” he urges, pointing the end of his spoon at my bowl.
Under the watchful gaze of Logan, I dig my spoon in, blow on it lightly to cool it down, then pop it in my mouth. An explosion of flavor hits my taste buds.
“Mmm, this is amazing.” I stare wide-eyed at him. “Sorry, but I’m still struggling with the concept of you cooking. I thought for sure you’d have your own chef.”
He chuckles. It’s a low rumbling sound from deep in his chest and his face loses its familiar tension. “I’m not home enough to have a chef. But I don’t know why you’re surprised I can cook. You know Ada insisted we learn. I guess some of us were better students than others.” Ada is Katie’s mother, Logan’s stepmother, and she’s a phenomenal cook. Her pecan spiced pie is an absolute favorite of mine. Over the years, Ada has tried teaching us all to cook. However, as Logan just pointed out Katie, Sarah, and I are still hopeless in the kitchen.
“Maybe I need more lessons. A sandwich is about my limit.”
“Trust me, I’m no gourmet cook. I can only do the basics and quantity is a bit of an issue.” He points to the still very full pot of chili sitting on the cooktop. “Lucky you like it because there will be plenty of leftovers for the freezer.”
Silently, we eat our chili; it really is delicious, just the right amount of mouthwatering flavor without leaving me gasping from the spice. For the first time neither one of us feels the need to fill the silence. Instead, it sits comfortably around us, not awkward like it has been in the past.
When our bowls are just about empty, Logan asks, “How did the viewings for your new studio go today?” before scooping a final heaped spoon of chili into his mouth.
Excitedly, I tell him about the space I found and how I want to transform it for the launch of my photography business in a few short months. There’s so much to do, I’m not sure where to start.
“You’re a well-known man in the city. Do you know any contractors who could help me with the renovations?”
His mouth ticks up in a smile that is becoming more familiar. “I might be able to help. Jason recently had some renovations done. He probably has some names. I’ll ask him to send you the details.”
“Thanks.” Logan seems to be a changed man lately. He’s barely recognizable as the moody grump from a few weeks ago. I watch him rinsing our empty plates, more domestic duties that make him even sexier, especially now that he’s removed the funny apron and the full glory of his ripped chest in a skintight white T-shirt is on full display.
Once we’ve worked together on clearing up, we move to the living area with the remainder of the red wine. This time, we talk mostly about his family and memories of the weekends we spent at his family beach house. Neither of us dare to mention the weekend of his sixteenth birthday which is still off the list of topics to discuss. Maybe one day.
However, Logan has no such reluctance to mention the time he and his brothers caught Katie, Sarah, and I skinny-dipping in the ocean.
“I think that was the last weekend we were all at the beach house before we graduated,” I recall.
He laughs. “I remember it clearly,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.
I hide my face in my hands. “Please don’t remind me. It wasn’t one of my best ideas. For some reason I’d decided I needed to do something daring and suggested we go for a skinny-dip. Sarah of course thought it was a great idea. Katie took a bit of convincing.” I come out from behind my hands smiling. “That experience curbed any future daring moves for at least a couple of years.” He laughs harder.
“Although in my defense, you guys were deeply into a game on PS3 when we went down to the beach. I thought we were safe.”
Memories of the night Logan saw me naked no longer make me blush. Instead, it gets me wondering what that would be like now that we’re older and I’m no longer painfully shy about my body.
