Stumbling into the kitchen, taking the proffered cup of perfectly creamed and sugared coffee, Vivian managed a smile at Logan as he looked her up and down.

“I’ve told Oscar that I’m not working the next couple of days, so we’ve got today for you to do some more digging into what the neighbors are cooking up and some digging into what you want to learn about me.”

“Hmm. Got the day planned, do you?”

“Come on, zombie Viv. Have a seat and let me get some food in you. You’re always a nicer zombie when your belly is full.”

Attempting to cast a glare in his direction, he had already turned his back, so she shuffled over, sitting down in a chair. Plating scrambled eggs, sausage, and pancakes, she perked up.

“Pancakes? I love pancakes.” Her smile, wider now, beamed up at him.

“See what I mean? Get you interested in food and my girl’s smile comes out of hiding.”

Sticking her tongue out at him, she felt the butterflies in her stomach as his words, my girl, slid over her. She watched as he laughed before sitting down next to her. Sucking in a deep breath, she turned her attention to her pancakes, finding them fluffy and light, just the way she liked them.

“How about we talk about you first, before I start checking into next door,” she suggested as she scraped the last bite of pancake through the syrup before closing her lips over the fork in ecstasy. When he did not reply, she turned to look at him. His eyes were locked on her mouth as she licked the syrup off. “Logan?”

He blinked slowly before his gaze drifted back to hers. Letting his breath out slowly, he said, “Damn. That was sexy.”

“Me eating pancakes?”

“You. Your mouth around that fork. That syrup on your lips. And where I’d like to put that syrup to lick off myself.”

Laughing, he shifted in his seat, adjusting himself. She leaned forward until she was a breath away from his lips. “Talk first, sex later.”

Kissing her quickly, he shook his head as he took the plates to the sink. “You drive a hard bargain, woman.”

Having determined that the lab work was being accomplished when Malik, Rashad, or Nafisa were next door, they settled in the living room, so they could talk while keeping an eye on the neighbor’s driveway.

“I feel like I should be taking notes on you.”

“So, what do you need to know, to feel like you’re a Logan-expert?”

“I guess the same things we went over about me. Your family. Your career. And how you ended up here as a mechanic known as Logan Preacher.”

“Grew up in the middle of nowhere Kansas on a farm.”

“Really? That’s weird, ‘cause I can see that. I can imagine you as a dark-headed little boy running around a farm.”

Chuckling, he said, “The farm has been in my family since my great-grandfather.” His voice softened as he shifted his eyes, focusing on a distant point on the wall. “Clean air. Crops. Cows. Hard work from sun up to sun down.”

She did not need to ask, instead stating, “And it wasn’t what you wanted to do.”

“First time I saw a Navy commercial on TV, I was totally gone. Gone off the farm in the middle of the country. I wanted water, boats, submarines…if it had to do with the Navy, I wanted it. By the time I graduated from high school, I spent more time at the recruiter’s office than I did anywhere else. When I found out about SEALs, I knew.” His eyes jumped up to hers and he asked, “Have you ever wanted something so bad, it was all you thought about?”

Shifting on the sofa to get more comfortable, she felt a pang of envy—she loved her job but had never felt about it the way Logan described the Navy. She shook her head slowly. “I wish…but no…not so far.”

“My recruiter wanted me to join right away, but I wanted a college degree so that I could be an officer. I went to Kansas State on an ROTC scholarship. Did four years, finished, then headed to the Navy. Did basic training, Officer school, and then started the many levels of SEAL training.

“I still remember the first time I was out on a ship. I stood on deck and watched the shore recede into the background. Thought about what it must have been like for those sailors of centuries ago, not knowing what or who was out there.”

They were quiet a moment as she gave him time for his memories to slide over him. Finally, with a head jerk, he said, “Anyway, I was accepted and made it through each level. Special Warfare Prep School, Basic Underwater Demolition, Parachute Jump, and SEAL Qualification. Hard as shit, but had the best team. Since I’d been flying my family’s crop dusting plane since I was a teen, I did pilot training as well.”

“So, what happened?”

“I fuckin’ loved my job…best job and greatest friends. But the last mission, things were getting fucked. One of my team was shot in the chest and had gone down. Our rescue helicopter had arrived and we had to get out of there. It was too hot…too much firepower getting rained down on us. The whole mission was fucked if we didn’t get out. I heard him shout and turned back to get him. Managed to pick him up and jog toward the bird.”

He was silent, his eyes stormy as they settled on the wall opposite him. “Almost fuckin’ made it.” Shaking his head, almost in disbelief, “Managed to get close but then went down as an explosion hit nearby. We got into the bird, but I tore my knee to hell. Damn near shredded it.”

She winced in sympathy as she watched him rub his left knee absentmindedly. Reaching to him, she placed her hand on his leg, gently so as not to disturb his memories, but to remind him that he was alive.

He looked over and smiled, placing his large hand over hers and squeezing. “It’s all good, Viv. No one can be a SEAL forever.”

“Did you have to get out?”

“Even after surgery, my knee was never going to be strong enough for me to jump outta planes anymore or even swim as long as I needed.”

“So they kicked you out?” she cried with indignity.

“No, babe. I got out. I could have stayed in the Navy. Done a desk job. Even done some training of new SEALs. But the more I thought about it, the less I liked the idea.”

“And the farm?”

Shaking his head while chuckling, he said, “It was never for me. I told my parents when I left for SEAL training that it needed to go to someone who loved it as much as they did. I have a younger sister and she stayed there. She married a good man, whose dad owned a farm nearby. They’ve got both farms now, and kids, two boys and two girls. They’ll have someone to keep it going.”

“But it was your legacy—”

“Nah,” he countered, conviction in his voice. “It was never my legacy. I loved the farm, loved growing up there, but farming’s not in my blood. It’s gotta be inside you every second and for me that was being a SEAL.”

“So where did you go?”

Leaning back with a grin on his face, he replied, “Montana. Cut Bank, Montana. Out in the boonies. Got acres out in the middle of nowhere. Built a house. Got a large hanger for my two helicopters. Made a business out of flying tourists around and doing rescues.”

She heard all the words he spoke, but her mind was stuck back on Montana. Blinking, she repeated, “Montana? I didn’t even know people lived in Montana.”

Throwing his head back, he laughed. “Yeah, Viv. People live in Montana.”

Kicking him softly with her leg, she said, “But why Montana? It’s not near the water…it’s not near anything.”

His mirth slowly fading, his eyes held hers and she nodded slowly, understanding dawning. “You don’t want to be near the water. You don’t want to be near people.”

“I was never very sociable. Figured seeing the ocean every day would always remind me of what I lost. So, bumfuck Montana seemed like a good idea.”

Sitting in silence, she turned his words over in her mind. Looking up, she asked, “And this job? What is this job to you?”

Logan wrestled with how much to tell her, but as she turned her warm, brown eyes toward him, he wanted to share. Hoping this was going somewhere, he needed to share.

“I help plan missions. I’ve got equipment in my home. I don’t participate in any missions, but I have…uh…contacts. And I help with the planning. This job is different though. Came from a different source. Someone who thought it was a good match for me—no jumping outta planes.”

“And when it’s over?” Her words were spoken casually, but the air hung heavy between them as their gazes held.

Swallowing deeply, he said, “I guess I’ll go back to Montana.”

Her lips curved tightly, the slight smile forced and not reaching her eyes. He reached out and linked his fingers with hers.

Vivian blinked, battling the desire to cry at how his fingers entangled with hers made her feel.

“I figure I’ll take a trip to Kansas first though,” he added.

Her head nodded in jerks, her heart aching with an unknown pain. She felt his thumb caressing her palm and swallowed deeply.

“Figured I’d want to introduce you to my folks,” he continued, his eyes never leaving hers.