Page 71 of The Pumpkin Spice Cafe
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Logan woke up to the sound of the shower running and the sun streaking through Jeanie’s blinds. He groaned and stretched, letting her scent and everything they’d done last night wash over him.
It had been...
It had been... perfect. Perfect despite the unpacked boxes and the words left unsaid. Today he would say them.
He rooted around in the tangle of blankets for his boxers and found his shirt tossed over a chair. His blood heated at the memory of Jeanie yanking it off of him. Maybe he should join her in the shower.
The idea of a soaped-up Jeanie was very tempting, but they had things to talk about first. Things he should have told her last night, but had still been too chicken to say. Today he would tell her that he wanted her. That he had fallen head over heels in love with her and he had been a fool to try and deny it, and he had been an even bigger fool to try and hide it. And that if she wanted him to shout it from the freaking café counter during the morning rush, he would.
But first, coffee.
He strolled out to the kitchen and started the coffee maker. He found mugs in the cabinet, placed neatly beside the sugar and honey. In fact, most of the kitchen was tidy with no partially packed boxes in sight. Jeanie was just taking her time settling in. He couldn’t fault her for that.
The small kitchen led out to the living room, where Logan found a table and two chairs. Jeanie must use it as a desk, as well, because the surface was covered in papers. Logan cleared some out of the way and stacked them in a pile.
A business card slipped from the stack and floated slowly to the floor.
Barb Sanders, the realtor who had once tried to convince him to sell his grandparents' farm, stared up at him from the floor. He stared back at her, her too-bright smile mocking him.
Casper sauntered over and sat his big fluffy body on the card, as though to save Logan from the panic currently stirring in his veins. Or to cover his owner’s tracks. Logan tore his gaze away from the cat and the card and turned his attention back to the pile of papers. He hadn’t intended on looking at them. He hadn’t intended on snooping.
But he’d seen the card.
And now he saw the real-estate listings. The comps for other business properties in the area. He saw where Jeanie had circled some of the numbers. He saw her little enthusiastic exclamation points in the margins.
He saw the astronomical amount of money Jeanie could sell this building for. She could do so much with that amount of money. Reinvent her life entirely. Find her own dream instead of recycling her aunt’s.
She could leave and never look back.
His gaze roamed over the living room, taking in details he’d been too distracted to see last night. The kitchen might have been organized, but the living room was just as unsettled as the bedroom. A large box labeled ‘photos’ sat menacingly next to the couch.
Jeanie had no intention of staying.
And he’d fallen for it, again.
He’d fallen for her.
His blood flashed hot then cold as the realization set in. He’d been nothing more than a stop on her trip. And he’d paraded all over the damn festival with her yesterday. Everyone in town had seen them together.
He’d given everyone yet another reason to look at him with those ‘poor Logan’ looks.
Shit.
He had to get out of here.
He was about to head back to the bedroom to grab the rest of his clothes when the shower stopped. He froze next to the table and the incriminating pile of papers. Maybe he could run out of here in his underwear. That would really top his failed-proposal story.
No, he couldn’t run. He had to face her. And then get the hell out of here.
He waited, listening to the sounds of Jeanie padding around her bedroom. She hummed a little tune to herself, and Logan wanted to cry. Or scream. Or tear something apart. He wasn’t sure which. Maybe all three.
Jeanie emerged from the bedroom wearing nothing but his discarded flannel shirt from the night before. The sight nearly brought him to his knees.
Why was she doing this to him?
‘Morning,’ she said cheerily, her cheeks rosy from her shower. Damp tendrils of hair curled around her ears. Logan’s fingers twitched with the need to touch her. ‘Thanks for making coffee.’ She smiled, and Logan’s heart lurched like it could escape him and go live with her instead.
