Page 11 of Living at 40

“However, I am curious. Are you really making a list of men to sleep with?”

“Oh my God, are you serious?” I tug my arm free from his soothing grasp, suddenly feeling the sting of his touch instead of the heat. I take another step away from him, but Logan follows me, stepping closer to me. He’s in my space, and the scent of sunshine and man fills my nostrils. It shouldn’t be such an intoxicating smell, but it is. Is it wrong to want to lick him?

“I just want to know. Are you putting Mason on the list?”

“What?” I snap, staring at him like he’s lost his mind. In fact, I say that. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m . . . I’m looking out for you,” he states, and I laugh, a sharp, barking, unattractive yip.

“You’re kidding me, right? Is this a Logan Anders joke?”

His brows pinch. “What do you mean?”

“As if you don’t remember?” I have no idea why it’s all coming over me now. After all these years, it shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, I’ve told myself over and over again. It didn’t matter that the boy I had a crush on rejected me. It didn’t matter that when I threw myself at him, he not only retreated but turned my misery into a joke among his college friends.

Logan and I somehow found ourselves in a bedroom at that frat party. I had leaned in, and Logan pushed me away, the force enough to knock me onto the bed. I thought he was going to follow me down and kiss me like I’d seen in television shows where the couple falls to the mattress and passionately make out, only Logan didn’t jump on top of me. He laughed. He laughed so hard tears came to his eyes, and I fled the room. He didn’t follow me. He didn’t chase after me and profusely apologize like some romantic movie. He turned my flirtatious pass into a hard pass for him and made a mockery of me to his buddies.

Fat chick upstairs hungry to be in my pants. Told her my sausage was more than she could handle.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He shakes his head, his entire face pinched in question.

“Just . . . forget it. And it’s none of your damn business who’s on my baby daddy list.” With those parting words, I spin away from him, and once again, Logan Anders doesn’t chase.

+ + +

I’m off for the rest of the day, and the first break I get, I call Anna to beg her to let me skip dinner that night.

“I’m sorry again about yesterday. Please forgive me. We need you here. Ben wants you here.” I’d like to say Anna was laying on the guilt, but she was only telling the truth. When my brother mentioned having his friends for two weeks, he also told me how much he wanted me present.

“But you’ll be with the guys all the time,” I whined to Ben a month ago.

“Anna will want your company.” He shrugged. “And I just want you around.”

I couldn’t deny his request, but I needed one night away from the Autumn-wants-a-baby talk and who’s-on-the-list discussion. There wasn’t a list, and as I told Logan, it wasn’t anyone’s business, even if there was.

As Ben and Anna’s home was along the inner drive lining the lake and less than a mile from the café, I’d ridden a bike to the café in the early morning hours. As late afternoon approaches and my day is done, I exit the building to find Logan standing near my bike chained to the fence in the back. He holds the handlebars of another bike.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I grumble, not up for another confrontation with him. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to walk you home. Well, ride bikes home with you.”

Uncertain why, I don’t ask. Instead, I set about unlocking my bike and placing my workbag in the basket on the front. As I swing a leg over the bike, Logan stops me from moving forward.

“I’ve felt bad the entire day for this morning. I don’t know what happened, so could you explain it to me.”

Sighing, I stare off at the highway that intersects with the side street.

“I don’t know where all that came from. I mean, I’m thirty-six. Something that happened when I was sixteen should not matter now.” Logan continues to watch me, so I turn back to him and shrug. “Water under the bridge and all that.”

Logan shakes his head. “Not good enough. Explain what I’m missing.”

“Logan,” I groan.

“Come on, Autumn.” The strength in my name startles me as he’s always called me Speck. A small shiver ripples over my skin at the determination in his tone.

“It’s nothing,” I say, suddenly embarrassed that I’m overreacting again toward this man.