The oven timer went off and he turned away. What was he thinking? She was afraid she’d added to his guilt, if that was his problem, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.
“Logan?”
“Do you have a copy here?”
Hoping he wasn’t slipping into one of his dark moods, she wished he’d turn around so she could see his face. “I have an advance copy, why?”
“I want to read it.”
“All right, I’ll get it for you after dinner.” Was it a good thing for him to read it? Would it help him understand that even when the worst happens, life does go on, or would it make his remorse worse?
Logan put the enchiladas on the plates, glad he had an excuse to keep his back to Dani. All the guilt he’d managed to smother the last few days came screaming back with the force of a ballistic missile. If he’d brought Evan safely home, she wouldn’t have had to write their daughter a daddy book, and what about Regan? The little girl he was growing to love would never know Evan, never hear that deep laugh of his, never listen to him tell one of his stupid jokes. Earlier, when he’d whispered to Regan that he was sorry for not bringing her daddy home and she’d patted his face, it had felt like she was forgiving him. He’d almost lost it then.
He desperately wanted Evan’s girls: He wanted Dani for his wife and longed to step into the role of father to Regan. Not an admirable thing to want another man’s family, nor did he deserve them.
“Anything I can do?”
The question confused him. There was nothing she could do to make it right.
“You’re staring at that plate as if you’re not pleased with it. It looks good to me, actually so good, my mouth’s watering.”
She meant dinner, and he sighed in relief. The longing in her eyes when she spoke of Evan tore at his heart. If he tried to explain his guilt, she’d just blow him off again, tell him he mustn’t think such things. She could never understand the bone-deep responsibility he’d felt for his team, how not keeping Evan safe for her was something for which he couldn’t forgive himself.
If he didn’t shake off his dark thoughts, though, she’d start to question him and he’d have to lie, so he leaned over and sniffed, catching the scent of flowers.
“You smell nice.”
“Gardenia-scented shampoo. Are we going to eat this or just stand here and admire it?”
The way she changed her toenail colors and shampoos fascinated him. If she were his, he would spend half his time wondering how she would smell or what color her toes would be next. He shook off the thought and picked up the plates. Dani refilled his glass and brought it to the table.
“You’ve gone quiet. Did talking about the book upset you?”
“I’m fine. Eat your dinner,” he said, and forced himself to take a bite. It was undoubtedly good, but to him it tasted like sawdust.
A drawn-out sigh followed her first bite. “My God, Logan, this is amazing.” She glanced at the casserole dish. “Oh goody, there’s enough left for lunch tomorrow.”
“Thanks. It’s one of the few dishes Maria will eat. Probably because it’s got so much cheese in it.”
“You said she eats junk food. What does she like?”
“Loaded chili dogs, fried bologna sandwiches, and corndogs are her favorites.”
“Seriously?”
“I kid you not. I’ve put food from every country in the world in front of her, and all I hear is, ‘Why can’t you just fry me up some bologna?’”
“If that’s all she wants, can’t she make it herself?”
“Maria and fire don’t mix. One night I made an elaborate meal, I don’t remember what now, but when she turned up her nose, I gave up. Told her I was done and she could cook for herself. The next night when she finally realized I meant it, she tried to make dinner. Almost burned the damned place down.”
Her eyes glittered in amusement. “I’d like to meet her.”
Logan glanced at his empty plate. When had he finished it? He grinned at the woman who had the ability to make him forget he was eating sawdust. “That’s good to know because you’ll meet her Tuesday night.”
“I will? She’s coming here?”
He hadn’t meant to bring this up yet. “Tell you what. I’ll clean up while you make us a pot of coffee. Then grab the baby monitor and we’ll sit on the deck and talk.”
“Okay. Thanks for making dinner, by the way. It really was delicious.”
“My pleasure,” he said, and meant it. He enjoyed cooking for her. When they got to Pensacola, he would make her his specialty, seafood paella.