Page 34 of Perfect Playbook

I thought he was kidding when he told me.

“Did you seriously get a subscription?”

“I’m brushing up on the latest calving techniques.” He winks.

“You don’t need to do that to impress my dad.”

It’s true, and yet my heart nearly explodes watching his gaze drop to the pages and his eyebrows pinch together.

He snaps open the pages of the sparse publication. “I’m not trying to impress him. I’m trying to bond. It’s how men do it.” He holds me against him tighter. “It’ll be our baking.”

Later that day, we’re in Starlight Canyon for dinner with my dad and aunt, Rita, who has been staying since not too long after Mom died. She made a veritable feast, which means she wants to impress Logan and make me proud to be a Mendez. Our family doesn’t have much, but there are a lot of culinary skill in our genes, and if the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, well, I might lose Logan to Tía Rita tonight.

My dad is laughing at our dining room table. He only laughs when Logan is home with me, and I’m not sure if he thinks my boyfriend is truly funny or simply escapes into something new for a momentary break from the painful past. Either way, I love seeing his eyes come alive just a little bit when Logan is here.

Mostly, when I talk to Dad, he’s speechless. Not flabbergasted speechless but zero energy, total depression speechless. It’s scary seeing my dad that way, and it makes me want to bring Logan around all the time. I can’t wish for that, though, because more likely than not, Logan could be gone all of the time. I should pray for strength equal to my task and learn to make my dad laugh the way Logan does. But I just wasn’t born with his magic.

Rita and I listen to their conversation, Logan’s jaw moves confidently, his eyes sparkling with every word he says. His hands tell stories like they’re tales, and watching Logan’s body as he speaks is as much a show as the words themselves.

He and my father have been discussing electric fencingand the solar-powered energizers he read about in his magazine. He’s like the captain of his ship, feast laid out in front of him, ready to change the world.

“Luis, you should really try them. They’re just as strong, they can do five miles of tape and they never run out of charge. Imagine not having to check your batteries and having to recharge them.”

I know my dad is old-fashioned and would normally swat an idea like solar-powered fencing to the side, but with Logan, his chin is perched on a fist, and he listens.

Logan goes on. “I used to think it was such an annoying job having to go around and swap out the batteries, especially since most horses don’t even go through the electric fencing if it’s not on.”

My dad interjects with a wagging finger. “But you see, cows do. Cows do. They will charge right through that fence if they can’t hear the ticking sound of the electric going through.”

Logan should be a salesperson for these things. “Then all the more reason to try one of these. Imagine that. Free power. From the sun. It never needs recharging. No weekly checks just to swap out batteries around the ranch. No cows loose when a battery dies…” He sits back and delivers his final point. “It’s good for the environment.”

My dad taps his lips thoughtfully, like Logan is talking about something far more compelling than electric fencing.

My man is utterly captivating. It’s not just me. It’s not just my dad. Or aunt. It’s everyone… because he has genuine interest, and everyone wants that. Every single person on this planet wants someone to care about theirwhy.That’s Logan’s beauty. Whether you like hockey or ranching or baking… he validates. He’s curious. Logan is capable of so much more outward affection than I am. He oozes it unconditionally, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like he doesn’t even need it in return, an endless well I want to drink from forever.

Unfortunately, Logan’s dashing, charming nature is a quality I both admire and cherish, but one I find gives rise to jealousy, too. I want it all for myself. I fear him growing bored of me. Or finding someone more like him. Sometimes I wonder how he can want a woman like me. I’m practically his polar opposite. Logan is warm. I’m a tad bit frosty. Logan is tall, I’m short. He’s impulsive, I’m careful. He’s an athletic hockey god, and I can’t even throw a baseball without it landing behind me.

Still, everything inside me screams he’s my perfect match. I guess puzzle pieces don’t fit together with straight lines either. He’s good with my family, loves animals, wants children one day, is compassionate, is outgoing enough for two people, and damn is he hardworking. If there’s one thing my mom told me it was to never marry a lazy man.

He’s even from my own small town.

After Mom died, most of my hope went along with her, and I use my last thread to cling to Logan getting on the Scorpions.

The four of us have finished eating my aunt’s famous tamales, which, knowing how much time it takes to make them, shows she adores Logan as much as my dad does. She would have been in the kitchen hours today before we arrived.

Logan sits back, having taken thirds, which pleased my aunt to no end.

“You’re an incredible cook, ma’am. Thank you so much for going through all the trouble. This seems like a lot of work. It must have taken you hours.”

Logan’s country boy manners are as perfect as the rest.

She flutters her eyelashes down bashfully, and I can’t help but notice that even though she’s forty-three, this college boy makes her blush. He’s just one of those guys. The kind of attention he serves is slightly on the hot side and makes every single woman’s cheeks go red. I notice it with Tía Rita and every girl who crosses our paths on campus, too.

I like it with my aunt. With the other college girls?Not so much.

Rita raises her glass of lemonade to take a sip and eyes me over the rim. She wiggles her eyebrows because I’m not the only one sitting here with an internal monologue all about Logan Hunter.

The way Logan slips into my element like he’s always been here makes me lose my mind, and it quickly wanders down the aisle. It’s madness. I’ve only been connected with Logan for a few months, and my heart already begs to hang on to him forever. I’m probably super hormonal. And I’m also not in a place to make these kinds of calls so soon after the tragedy. But we can’t help what our hearts feel.

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