Page 15 of Paging Dr. Summers

Logan’s defenses lowered, and he chuckled, shaking his head. “I never know what you’re going to say.”

“That’s good. It will keep you on your toes. But back to my question. Where would you suggest I find such men?” I didn’t know where all my boldness was coming from, but I liked it. Maybe Mom hadn’t been crazy to send me to this picturesque town.

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not plugged in to the Aspen Lake dating scene,” he murmured.

“Sorry, that was a callous question to ask you. I’m just trying to put you atease.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Obviously, you’re uncomfortable around me. I want to change that. I hope we can be friends. Friends with no benefits,” I added. “Like zero. I mean, except for the benefit of you teaching me how to paddleboard or, like, opening a jar for me. What I’m trying to say, ineloquently, is that I’m not interested in you romantically, so you can relax.”

That seemed to have the opposite effect on him, as he stiffened and gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No. You’re just an interesting woman is all.”

He wasn’t wrong. “Interesting is better than boring, right?”

“I suppose it is.” He flashed me a half smile.

“Now that we have that settled, tell me about your boy band days and who your favorite band of all time is.” You could tell a lot about a person by the music they listened to.

Logan pulled into Granger Outfitters. “This is the best sporting goods store in town. I know Tristan Granger and his wife, Calista. They run a free medical clinic on the other side of the lake that I volunteer at when I can.”

I kind of wished he hadn’t told me that. That made him even more attractive. “Wow. That’s really nice of you.”

He parked the truck and shrugged. “It feels good to give back when I can.”

That was sweet, but ... “You still didn’t answer my questions,” I reminded him. I had a feeling he was avoiding them.

He groaned before letting out a huge breath. “We were called Chaos Theory.”

I stifled a giggle. “That’s very teen angsty of you.”

“I suppose it was,” he said fondly.

“Did your music reflect that angst?”

He nodded. “But it didn’t exactly reflect me.”

“What do you mean?”

Logan ran a hand through his perfectly mussed hair. “I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this, but I’m honestly more of a Frank Sinatra, Michael Bublé kind of a guy. You can go ahead and laugh now.”

While I hadn’t expected his musical preference, I in no way felt the need to make fun of it. “Honestly, I think it’s charming, and it fits you.” It really did. He was all class, even at that moment in his fitted polo and dress shorts.

His features softened, as if relieved that I hadn’t made fun of him.

“Did you ever think about performing big band and jazz numbers?” I asked.

Logan’s ears turned red hot.

“Oh, my gosh, you did, didn’t you?”

Logan cleared his throat. “The summers after my freshman and sophomore years at college, I worked at a theme park singing big band numbers. I’ve told no one that.”

“What? Why? I think it’s amazing.”

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