Page 79 of Until the Sea Runs Dry

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What should have been a simple shopping trip at the Whole Foods store turned into an exercise in patience.

Having finished the day’s work, Logan had kept his promise — or threat — as Jane liked to think of it. Accompanying him to the fresh pasta section, she fought to keep Loki from investigating every product on display and possibly knocking it over in the process.

Smelling something delicious, the puppy darted forward to the source, but Jane was ready for him with an iron grip. She tugged his leash gently, getting the dog’s attention.

“No, Loki. No pulling.”

At her calm but firm voice, he stopped struggling. Pleased that he was finally starting to learn, she smiled down at him.

“That’s right. Good boy.”

“He’s really taken to you,” Logan observed her beneath the shining Ray-Bans that seemed glued to his face the second they were in public.

She wanted to tell him he needed a better disguise. Though they might have hidden his eyes from view, they did nothing to disguise his star power if the slack-jawed gawking of the other shoppers was any indication.

“We don’t have to go through with this. There’s plenty of food in my fridge already. We can just cook something from that.”

The Ray-Bans tilted until his eyes peered over the top of them.

“A man is nothing without his word.”

She had to force herself not to roll her eyes. The man was full of drama.

“Since you insist on this exercise tonight, what are you making for dinner?”

He sniffed a bunch of basil. “Only the best lasagna you’ll ever have this lifetime.”

“Lasagna?”

The hand with the basil lowered. “You sound surprised?”

“It just seems so… normal. I thought you’d go for something elaborate…”

“It can’t always be lobster and caviar. Much as I like both, nothing beats a home cooked lasagna, and I’m in the mood for something other than protein shakes and steamed chicken breasts.”

The skepticism must have shown on her face as he continued, “Most women would be thrilled to have me cook for them, yet you act as if it’s going to be torture.”

She was starting to sound ungrateful. Her mouth twisted with an apology. “I just didn’t see you as the cooking type.”

“Hard to picture an action star bent over a stove? I’ll have you know that I learned from the best.”

“You’ve trained with a Michelin chef, haven’t you?”

He shook his head, amusement making his green eyes sparkle.

“Better. Keep guessing.”

Jane wracked her brain. “A celebrity one?”

He snorted, enjoying the game. This might be the first time she had loosened up in his presence, and he found this version of Jane — the one who talked to him about normal things while they shopped for groceries — quite appealing.

“Why would a celebrity chef be better than a Michelin-starred one?”

Jane shrugged her shoulders. “I think I might be bad at guessing games. I give up.”

“My mom,” Logan revealed, his eyes lighting up at the thought of her. “She cooked everything from scratch when I was a kid. I helped prepare all of our meals. When I was younger, I considered it such a chore — what boy wouldn’t? But as I got older, I came to appreciate the love and care she took in creating every dish. She was at home in the kitchen. It was her happy place. I guess she passed that on to me.”

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