Page 37 of Life After You

Logan’s lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile. “What’s got you grinning, angel?”

“Oh, uh… just thinking about getting a watch.”

His eyes soften as he shakes his head, that knowing smile tugging at his lips. “I wouldn’t handle one of those smartwatches. I’d feel the electricity flowing through me.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the little laugh that escapes. Logan’s always had this weird aversion to technology, like it personally offends him. Not quite a technophobe, but close enough.

Before I can tease him about it, I reach for the menu—not that I need it. I already know what I want. Logan, on the other hand, doesn’t even bother picking his up. He just tosses it aside like he’s got everything figured out.

“Not even gonna pretend to look?” I ask, arching a brow.

He smirks but doesn’t get a chance to answer before Patty steps out from behind the counter, making a beeline straight for us. She moves with purpose, like she knew the second we walked through the door.

Stopping at the edge of our table, she plants her hands on her hips, eyes flicking between us like she’s sizing up a situation she already has figured out. “Back again, eh?”

Logan straightens slightly, like he’s suddenly under a spotlight. “Yeah. Wanted to thank you properly.” His voice is a little rougher than usual, sincere. “For looking out for her.”

Patty waves a hand, brushing it off like it’s no big deal. “Girl landed on her feet just fine. Just needed a little push in the right direction.”

I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. “You mean a shove.”

Patty chuckles. “Same thing.”

Logan looks at me, curiosity lighting his electric-blue eyes. “So… what was the push?”

I shrug. “I was looking for work. Patty took one look at me, handed me an apron, and told me I started the next day. No interview. No questions.” My chest tightens for a second, but I push past it. “She pointed me toward Rosewood too. Said she had a feeling I’d fit in there.”

Patty winks. “Told you, I get a good read on people.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Logan’s been telling me all about your witchy ways.”

She laughs before turning back to him. “You should listen to him. He’s an old soul. So, what can I get you, Logan?”

Without hesitation, he says, “Eggs.”

Patty smirks, like she expected nothing less. “How about I fix you up with chicken pot pie and some mash? Don’t wanna spoil you on just scrambled eggs and bacon.”

Logan looks a little affronted, like she just suggested something truly outrageous, but after a brief pause, he sighs in defeat. “If they’re anywhere near as good, I’ll trust you.”

“What a charming young man,” she teases. “I’ll treat you to some peach cobbler for dessert.” Then her gaze swings to me, sharp and knowing. “Kayla… I know you’re thinking about just the brownies, but growing ladies need more than dessert. How about I get you the special of the day—beef and noodles?”

I hesitate, glancing at Logan. Maybe I should stop teasing him about Patty steamrolling him, because clearly, I’m not immune either.

“Thanks, Patty. I suppose you’re right."

“Darn tootin’.” She scribbles on her pad before disappearing behind the counter, returning moments later with two milkshakes—one pink, one brown. I glance between them, my gaze lingering on the chocolate one. I want it. I really do. But a part of me hesitates, wondering if Logan would be weird about drinking the pink one. I’ve dated my fair share of insecure guys, the kind who’d insist I take the girly drink just so no one questioned their masculinity. Ugh.

Logan doesn’t strike me as that type, but still, old habits die hard. Before I can say anything, he picks up the strawberry shake, eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Angel, would you mind if I have the berry one? I haven’t had a strawberry shake in some time, and I find myself in dire need of some," he says, his voice laced with playfulness. "Unless, of course, you want it—or we could share?"

I beam at him, warmth unfurling in my chest. "You sure you don’t mind being seen drinking a pink milkshake, oh mighty rock god?" I tease.

Logan lets out a deep, rich laugh. "Angel, anyone who knows anything about me knows that what they think of me doesn’t matter. Only those I choose to care about, no?"

My heart clenches, but in the best way. He says it so simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to not give a damn about outside opinions. I reach out and give his hand a squeeze. It’s like gripping solid stone, his skin warm, fingertips calloused from years of playing guitar.

"Truth be told, I was hoping for the chocolate one anyway, so it’s all yours."

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