Page 61 of Consuming Logan

Ava released a sigh. She relaxed back in her chair. “You don’t know him,” she said, sighing at the thought. “Let me finish here. I’ll be home before your bedtime. I promise I’ll make you forget all about the coffee,” she said playfully.

Logan grunted. “My hand is strong enough to whip his ass.”

“Oh, stop,” she exclaimed. “I am so hanging up this phone.”

He grumbled something incomprehensible before giving a brisk, I love you, and then hanging up the phone.

Ava sorted the contract folders, standard operating procedure manuals, and the questions from the legal officer into three separate piles. She took one sip of the last cup of coffee she would accept from Asher and hummed in satisfaction. “Farewell, good coffee.”

Forty minutes later, her office door opened again. Fully expecting to see Ash with a second offering, she poised her lips to decline. Anything beyond two cups would be entirely too much for the baby. She’d have to wrestle sleep into submission with that much caffeine at this late hour.

Ava looked up and then threw a cupped hand over her mouth in shocked disbelief. She couldn’t believe who stood before her. Logan’s broad shoulders filled her entryway. Dropping her hand, Ava came to her feet. Before she could round her desk, he stepped inside the small office, closing the door behind him.

“Logan, what are you doing here?” Her fiancé stood, legs braced apart, dressed in a black T-shirt, denim jeans, and black boots. He looked ready for war and gorgeously badass. She almost ran up and hugged him until she noticed he wasn’t wearing his sling.

She thought to take a step back, but he snatched up her hand before she’d even processed his next move.

“Introduce me to Ash.”

“Logan,” she warned. “Be reasonable.”

“Calling you his wife. This is the reasonable me,” he muttered. “He wants something.”

Ava gave her drop dead gorgeous caveman an incredulous look. He wore an expression that would prompt a nun to cross her heart.

“I can’t believe you would do this on my job. Lower your voice,” she hissed. “Someone might hear you.”

Logan drove dozens of miles to confront a totally harmless guy. There was a time, after Marcus, when Ava questioned her judgment with men. Not anymore. But, one look at Logan’s stern face and she anticipated the words before he even said them.

“Good,” Logan growled, his legs braced apart. “Because I’ll only tell him once.”

Chapter 23

The doorbell chimed. Logan stayed on the couch. Not that uninvited guests should be ignored, but he refused to expend the energy. Why bother? Nothing had changed. Ten weeks after the attack and Ava’s pregnancy announcement, Logan remained on the injured list. Sidelined. He’d complied with advice, medical, spiritual, and unsolicited. Being eager to return to SCMC and his destiny hadn’t worked either.

Yes, his grip strength had improved. But the mending tissue remained fragile. One wrong move could result in permanent fine motor damage. Game over for a surgeon. Seeing the inside of an operating room as the one holding the blade as opposed to the one under it had descended into imaginary thinking. Give it time, Dr. Pierre had advised. So, outside of his appointments, Logan limited his adventures to home and the Second House. He’d declined Kylie’s request for additional interviews. What purpose did it serve? He had nothing to say…about anything.

The doorbell chimed…again. If he wanted to be bothered with guests, he would have extended an invitation. In reality, he wasn’t fit company. He wanted Ava, but she was at the clinic. While he lounged around at home with his arm stuffed in gauze bandages and elastic wraps, hisfiancéeworked.

The provider.

Bringing home the bacon.

Providing for the family. Okay, it was an exaggeration. He had enough money invested to cover them and the babies for the next decade. Ava had a career, a purpose. While he drifted aimlessly, from one appointment the next. This was life as a patient with a chronic condition. It gnawed like a pit bull on his man card, but he got it now. What use did she have for him?

Ding-dong.

He sighed in frustration. Somehow one of the physicians on staff thought it a good idea to send a home health nurse to his house. Sure, he told the entire team to kiss his ass. He wasn’t coming back for another follow-up. They need to figure out how to get him back in the operating room. End of story. What the hell was he supposed to do without a scalpel in his hand?

He knew how to save lives.

Soldiers had their weapons. Well, Logan’s weapon was a one-inch blade. That’s how he fought and conquered his demons. Without his work, he had too much time for old shit that he didn’t want to deal with to creep back into his thoughts.

“Logan. If you leave me on this porch a second longer, I’m calling my granddaughter.”

Oh shoot, Granny Lou was here. Logan jumped from the couch unseating a half-eaten bowl of popcorn. The contents hit the hardwood and scattered like jackstones.

Shit.