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“Why are you so angry?” Abby finally asked. “I hardly know Tate. We only met a few days ago.”
“How many times have you gone out with him?”
“None,” Abby said righteously.
“But not because you turned him down.” Logan shook his head grimly. “I saw the way you looked at him, Abby. It was all you could do to keep from drooling.”
“That’s not true,” she denied vehemently—and realized he was probably right. She’d never been good at hiding her feelings. “I admit I find him attractive, but—”
“But what?” Logan taunted softly. “But you had this old boyfriend you had to get rid of first?” The hint of a smile touched his mouth. “And I’m not referring to my age.” He was six years older than Abby. “I was pointing out that we’ve been seeing each other two or three times a week and suddenly you’re not so sure how you feel about me.”
Abby opened her mouth, then closed it. She couldn’t argue with what he’d said.
“That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Logan.” She said his name on a sigh. “I like you. You know that. Over the past year I’ve grown very…fond of you.”
“Fond?” He spat the word at her. “One is fond of cats or dogs—not men. And particularly not me.”
“That was a bad choice of words,” Abby agreed.
“You’re not exactly sure what you feel,” Logan said, almost under his breath.
Abby’s fingers knotted until she could feel the pain in her hands. Logan was right; she didn’t know. She was attracted to Tate, but she knew nothing about him. The problem was that she liked what she saw. If her feelings for Logan were what they should be after a year, she wouldn’t want Tate to ask her out so badly.
“You aren’t sure, are you?” Logan said again.
She hung her head so that her face was framed by her dark hair. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she murmured.
“You haven’t.” Logan’s hand reached across the table and squeezed her fingers reassuringly. “Beyond anything else, we’re friends, and I don’t want to do anything to upset that friendship because it’s important to me.”
“That’s important to me, too,” she said, and offered him a feeble smile. Their eyes met as the waitress came and turned over the beige cups and filled them with coffee.
“Do you want a menu?”
Abby couldn’t have eaten anything and shook her head.
“Not tonight. Thanks, anyway,” Logan answered for both of them.
“I don’t deserve you,” Abby said, after the waitress had moved to the next booth.
For the first time all night, Logan’s lips curved into a genuine smile. “That’s something I don’t want you to forget.”
For a few minutes they sipped their coffee in thoughtful silence. Holding the cup with both hands, she studied him. Logan’s eyes were as brown as Tate’s. Funny she hadn’t remembered how brown they were. Tonight the color was intense, deeper than ever. They made quite a couple; she was so emotional—and he wasn’t. Abby noticed that Logan’s jaw was well defined; Tate’s jaw, although different, revealed that same quality—determination. With Logan, Abby recognized there was nothing he couldn’t do if he wanted to. Instinctively, she knew the same was true of Tate.
She sensed that there were definite similarities between Logan and Tate, and yet she was reacting to them in different ways.
It seemed unfair that a man she’d seen only a couple of times could affect her like this. If she fell madly in love with someone, it should be Logan.
“What are you thinking about?” His words broke into her troubled thoughts.
Abby shrugged. “Oh, this and that,” she said vaguely.
“You didn’t even add sugar to your coffee.”
Abby grimaced. “No wonder it tastes so awful.”
Chuckling, he handed her the sugar container.
