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“Logan!” calls the older woman behind the lunch counter. Her eyes scan me for half a second before turning back to him. “What are you doing here, darl’n?”

“Hey, Lucille. I’m taking Olivia out to lunch.” Logan motions to me. “Did you get to meet Amelia’s granddaughter yesterday?”

“No, I did not,” she says, her words curt, her eyes darting my way briefly. “But Hank might have mentioned her.” But then she’s looking at Logan again and her tone is sweet as sugar. “Speaking of granddaughters, my Sadie will be in town next month.”

Logan nods, giving Lucille a polite smile.

She waves a marinara-covered spoon in the air, while singing, “She’s single.”

I stifle a laugh as discomfort washes over Logan. Lucille plops an extra meatball onto his plate, winks, and hands him the tray. But Logan offers it to me while handing Lucille another empty tray.

The woman’s jaw goes rigid—or maybe that’s her attempt to smile at me. So, I smile back. The top button of her blue uniform bulges around her large bust. She clenches and the top button pops open. She doesn’t seem to notice and, frankly, I’m afraid to point it out. “How long do you plan to stay in town, Miss Benson?”

“Not long.”

Her expression turns smug. “That’s too bad.”

“It is,” Logan agrees, not seeming to notice her insolence or that smidgen of cleavage Lucille is now sporting. “Ben’s coming to get you, right?” he says, more for Lucille than me.

“Yes,” I say purely for Lucille, as if Logan and I didn’t just have this conversation.

“Ben?” Lucille echoes.

Logan’s head tilts my way. “Her boyfriend.”

“Ah, I see.” The lunch lady gives me a pouty lip, and then a joyful grin takes over her face. “Well, honey, it’s just too darn bad you couldn’t stay a little longer.” She points her marinara spoon at me, her tone cooing now. “This town could use a young sweet thing like you. Logan here’s just about the only twenty-something-year-old we’ve got.”

Is that true? The only one?

I follow him down the counter, food tray in hand.

“I’ll put it on your tab, Logan,” Lucille calls.

“Well, she got friendly—the second she figured out I’m leaving.”

Logan smirks. “That’s Lucille.” Roy… Lucille… Marlene… I am convinced that no one and nothing fazes Logan Heyborn.

We find an empty cafeteria table and sit across from one another, only to be swarmed ten seconds later.

I shouldn’t have thought his name. Ugh. Roy sits right next to me, and two other kids sit on either side of Logan.

“Logan, could you fix a ’54 Ford? It needs a new engine and… probably other stuff,” asks a blond boy in a baseball cap.

“Other stuff, huh?” Logan flicks his gaze to the boy, then forks one of his meatballs. “I already told your dad to bring it by.”

“Cool,” says the boy.

“Hey, guys.” Roy inches closer to me, and the entire bottle of cologne he must have put on this morning attempts to suffocate me. “This is Olivia.”

The blond boy shakes my hand, and the other says nothing, simply smiling in my direction. Since Roy doesn’t, Logan makes further introductions. “And this is Ken,” he says, pointing to the blond. “And Andrew.” He motions to the quiet redhead.

“It’s Friday. You got any plans tonight?” Roy’s voice is low as he speaks to only me.

I scoot three inches away from him. “Yes. I do,” I lie.

But Roy will not be discouraged. “Saturday?”

“Saturday, my boyfriend will be here to pick me up.” Or maybe Sunday… I’m not really sure.