Good riddance.
He lifted the bottle to his lips, angry he couldn’t get Dani’s words out of his mind. The rational part of his brain knew she didn’t understand the impact of what she’d said, but he still resented her for making him feel like that boy again.
The boy from the wrong side of the tracks had no intention of accommodating Little Miss Rich Girl. If all she wanted from him was a fuck, then she could find someone else. He wanted her too much, loved her too much to be a one-night stand.
Christ, he was royally FUBARed. He couldn’t take less because one taste of her would never be enough, and he couldn’t take all of her because of his honor and respect for a fallen comrade. That was before he even considered the differences in their backgrounds and the whore’s blood pumping through his heart.
The back door opened and Dani poked her head out. “Dinner’s ready.” She disappeared back inside.
Logan sighed. It had been like this between them all day. She didn’t understand why he was acting like an ass, and there was no way he’d ever tell her. Even now, whenever the memory surfaced, he felt dirty. Finishing off his beer, he took a deep breath and willed memories of his mother to hell, where they belonged.
Inside the cabin, he stood in the mudroom and inhaled deeply. Lasagna or spaghetti and garlic bread. He hoped for the former. Another inhale. Apple pie? His mouth watering, he entered the kitchen. If he ever married Dani, he would have to run ten miles twice a day. He gave a slight shake of his head to banish that kind of thinking. Somehow, he had to find a way to wipe the picture of domestic bliss with her from his mind.
“Sit and eat before everything gets cold.”
Logan saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”
Brilliant green eyes flashed fire, but she stayed quiet. Logan took his seat and dug into the lasagna with gusto. The garlic bread dripped with butter and never had he tasted better. An extra benefit, there would be no kissing after eating it. He took a moment to consider if that was intentional, but the food was so damn good, he didn’t ponder the question long.
There had been so many years in his life when food had been scarce, sometimes nothing more in the house than a package of hotdogs or bologna. Bread had been an extravagance. If he wanted to eat something besides a cold hotdog, it was up to him to cook. By the age of seven, the kitchen was his territory. Sometimes, he stole money from Lovey Dovey’s johns to buy food when they were too drunk to notice. Other times, he stole from his mother.
Logan pushed his empty plate aside. “That was unbelievably good.”
“Hope you saved room for apple pie and coffee.”
He groaned. “Later.” They had eaten their dinner in silence, and he couldn’t stand it any longer. “Look, I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a jerk today.”
Her gaze narrowed. “You’ve been the biggest asshat today I’ve ever had the displeasure to know.”
Suddenly he felt like laughing. How could he not love a woman who didn’t think twice about giving as good as she got? Lovey Dovey had gotten it all wrong. Cowering, simpering, and acting like a woman without a brain wasn’t the way to go.
His gaze soaked up the woman who didn’t hesitate to knock him down a peg or two. Auburn hair curled around her face and tumbled down past her shoulders. A sharp mind, eyes the color of shamrocks, a splash of freckles across her nose, and a killer body all called to every fiber of his being. Problem was, she was off-limits.
She ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Not in this lifetime—or even the next—and especially not to her. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m just frustrated is all. I’m spinning in circles with this guy and getting nowhere.” Her eyes searched his, and he didn’t think she believed a word he said.
She shrugged. “We’ll have it your way for now. There’s a ball game on, Cubs and the Braves. Wanna watch it?”
“Only if you’re for the Braves. I’m a Cubbies fan, so I need someone to make fun of when they send Atlanta home with their tail between their legs.”
“Ha, so not happening.”
Halfway through the game, Dani uncurled her legs and propped her feet on the coffee table. Logan noticed there was no color on her toes. Why was that? He had learned to gauge her mood by the color of her polish. What did bare toes mean? A piece of popcorn hit his forehead. He jerked his gaze up to see Dani getting ready to throw another one.
“Why are you staring at my feet like that?”
Grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on his lap, he threw it at her. Her grin was wicked and her eyes glittered with mischief.