Chapter 11

~ ALLIE ~

I should be exhausted, and my back should ache. I hadn’t intended to actually fall asleep on the hammock with him last night, but the warmth of his body next to mine and the stars above us drew me into a deep slumber.

Waking up alone, I discover a note saying he went to pick up donuts and coffee at Pop’s.

I’m in lust. A man who can lure me under the stars and listen—actually listen to me—and then pick up donuts and coffee the morning after is like a dream come true.

Struggling to lift myself out of the low-hanging hammock, I plant my two feet on the ground, and gaze out at the brook in my view. This section of Newton’s Creek really is beautiful, and I feel lucky every day I walk my dogs along its cool, clear water.

If a few mountains popped up along the horizon to replace the struggling farms, I’d picture this creek slicing its way through Montana or someplace else far west. The water tumbles over the rocks, and small boulders create an unintentional pathway across. I wonder what’s on the other side of the creek, and am sorely tempted to try to balance my way across it.

Logan looks as out of place here in Newton’s Creek as this brook does. Sure, there are jokes that men grow tall as the corn out here, and the farmers and others who make their living off the land do get broad-shouldered and tan. But there is an essence to Logan that sets him apart—an air of command that my heart seems to lap up like a tasty, cherry-flavored aphrodisiac.

He’s not meant to be here though, landlocked in Ohio. I can see the pull of the sea keeping his heart firmly anchored somewhere like San Diego.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, seeing my mother’s picture pop up on my display. I tap it and hold it to my ear. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, honey,” she answers. “I’m so glad you picked up. Is everything okay?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Well, I left a message last night and you didn’t call me back after you were done with your party.”

I swallow a laugh. I swear my mom thinks these sex toy parties are orgies or something. I can’t seem to convince her it’s just a bunch of soccer moms drinking cheap Chardonnay and telling tales.

“Sorry, Mom. I was going to call you when I got home, but—” I cut myself off, thinking it wouldn’t be a good idea to tell her that I spent the night squished up against a hot former Navy SEAL under the stars. “—I was just so tired.”

“That’s all right. I’m a little worried about you right now, though. Living in that townhome rent-free. If you need money for a place—”

“I’m fine, Mom,” I interrupt. “Really. Logan is a great guy.”

I stand, arching my back to stretch, and head in to let my dogs out while I spend the next five minutes convincing my mother that I’m perfectly safe.

I jump in the shower, deciding to skip washing my hair today. It’s kind of liberating, knowing Logan’s not interested in me. At least I don’t have to bother with makeup anymore before I walk the dogs.

I check my phone again for new emails and texts, still hoping I might have missed some word from my real estate agent. I can’t resist.

Setting down my phone on my dresser I spot the four slips of paper tossed carelessly alongside my jewelry box. A smile creeps up my face as I lift them, grazing the paper across my chin as I think.

I wonder…

***

“What are you doing today?” I ask Logan.

A tempting bag of donuts is in his grasp and one hand is raised to knock on my door. But I had opened it before he even had the chance.

His eyes widen at my direct tone. “Umm, eating donuts with you.”

“Great. We’re going to Buckeye Land.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re going to Buckeye Land.” Okay, I wasn’t expecting much of a response. It’s not like he’s a five-year-old fairy princess fan. I guess a little convincing is necessary. “You’re teaching me to be more spontaneous, right? Well, I’m teaching you to be less jaded. And what better place than Buckeye Land to do it? Come on. My friend Cass works there and she got me a family-four-pack for free. We can invite your niece and brother.”

The mention of Hannah does the trick and he is on his phone within seconds calling his brother. We make arrangements to meet them there in an hour, just long enough for me to down my coffee and a donut while he takes a shower next door. The thought of Logan in the shower nearly sends me into a second shower myself—a cold one—and I go against my earlier resolve by putting on make-up and squeezing into my cutest shorts—the ones Cass says make my legs look muscular.

A few minutes later, I gawk at the sight of him walking Kosmo along the stream. Kosmo is thriving in his new home. Logan said the vet has made arrangements for surgery next week and it’s all I can do to not offer to go with him, even though he has to drive three hours to a specialized vet hospital in Akron to get it done.

After Kosmo has worn out, which doesn’t take long in his present condition, Logan returns to his home and I meet him out on the front walkway. “I can drive,” I offer.

Glancing over at my car briefly, he only says, “No. I like driving.” I can’t blame him. My car isn’t a sight to behold and it smells even worse than it looks.

He walks past his truck and opens the passenger side door of his BMW convertible. I slide in, loving the feel of the leather against my thighs.

“Is this new?” I ask. I’ve seen it parked out here, but haven’t actually seen him drive it yet.

“Not very. I bought it when I got back from my last mission a couple years ago. The truck’s new. I kind of needed that when I started renovating. This one’s pretty useless on a trip home from Home Depot.”

I love the way he turns the car on by just pressing a button, and marvel at the rear and side view cameras as he backs out of his driveway. I don’t know much about cars. But I know what I like.

I like this.

Given my calling in life rescuing dogs, I don’t imagine a leather-seated BMW convertible is in my future any time soon, so I soak in the luxury while I can as we talk during the drive north.

“I can’t believe I’m going to Buckeye Land,” he mutters.

“I know. Roller coasters. Cotton candy. Tilt-a-Whirl. And if you’re lucky and stand in line long enough, you’ll get to meet the beautiful Buckeye Princess. Aren’t you a lucky boy?” I counter sarcastically, and give him a playful pat on the thigh.

He shoots me a look and I know there’s no way he would have agreed to go to Buckeye Land if he didn’t have a niece he adores. Truth is, I’m actually excited to go. The rollercoasters are more geared toward the elementary school set than for adults, but I love any rides.

In my stomach, I feel a little flutter from the thrill of being spontaneous.

I could get used to this feeling.