by L. B. Dunbar
“Your money isn’t good here,” I say with a weak smile, feeling guilty for pressuring him.
“This is a legit business, so you need to take my green.”
I shake my head, pushing the coffee toward him.
“I’ll take his free coffee,” the customer behind him jokes, and Logan glances over his shoulder.
“You’re busy. I’ll see you at the house.” He lifts his cup in salute and steps aside, only I can’t shake what he’s said. He has diabetes. While I take the next customer’s order, I ask one of my workers to take over at the register for a second. After slipping into the backroom, I step out the back door in hopes of finding Logan on the road. Crossroads Café is literally on the corner of Red Arrow Highway and Beech Street. Assuming Logan isn’t taking the highway, I turn down the side street leading to the inner drive along the lake.
“Logan,” I call out, catching him halfway down the road. As he stops and turns, I jog to him.
“Hey,” he says as I approach him.
“I wanted to apologize. That was a dick move of me to push the treats. I didn’t know . . .” My voice trails.
“No worries. I’m fine. Well, fine as long as I stick to a diet and exercise regimen. It’s how I’ve lost weight, and I feel so much better.”
“And you’re okay?” I reach out for his forearm but quickly pull my hand back. Logan follows the motion with his eyes, and his brows pinch in question. I can’t explain the real reason I’m concerned for Logan, but I am grateful he’s physically taking care of himself.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Nothing brings me down, remember?”
Oh, I remember all right. I remember a college boy having a jolly good time at a fraternity party one night while I was visiting my brother. Left in Logan’s care so Ben could sneak off with Anna for a while, I thought I’d fallen into a dream. Me, a high school kid, hanging out with Logan Anders at a college party. Only it all turned into a nightmare, and while I’d like to hope Logan forgot it all, I’m certain the basics are still somewhere in his memory.
“I remember,” I whisper, meeting his eyes, but the spark in them doesn’t hint at the past. Thinking anything that happened with me would be a blip on Logan’s radar makes me just as foolish as I was as a teen. “I should probably get back. I just wanted to apologize.”
When Logan doesn’t say more, I turn on my heels, but he catches me at the elbow.
“Hey, I should probably apologize for yesterday.” His hand still holds my elbow, his palm warm on my skin. His thumb strokes the inside crease of my arm, and I’m so focused on his touch I almost miss his words. “The baby-making business isn’t our business, and I want to say I’m sorry on behalf of everyone. We shouldn’t have been so cavalier in discussing it.”
Surprised by the sincerity in his voice, I nod to accept his apology. “Thank you.”
Logan stares at me another second, but when neither of us speaks, I step back as I really need to return to the café. His grip on my arm tightens.
“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.
“It’s not nothing. You were really worked up this morning, and it’s something I obviously did but don’t recall. Saying it’s nothing is a Chloe move, and I told myself I wouldn’t ever let it happen again. I need to know what I’ve missed.”
The mention of his ex-wife reminds me that Logan eventually went on to fall in love with a woman, even if they eventually fell out of love. I’m well-versed in falling into and out of love. I fall hard and fast—or at least th
at’s what I think of myself—and have staying power for all the wrong reasons. It happened with Rick, and Kenneth before him, and Kevin before him.
I could point out Logan’s comparing me to his ex-wife, which is unsettling, but the earnestness in his expression tells me he really wants the specifics.
“Remember when I came to visit Ben when you guys were juniors?” I take a deep breath, holding it for Logan’s reply.
“Hardly.” He laughs, and I’m familiar with that off-the-cuff sound he makes.
“Never mind. I can’t tell you this. It’s better that you don’t remember.” My foot hits a pedal, and I press forward, but Logan catches the handlebar, and I almost topple over.
“Autumn, dammit, tell me what I did.” The serious snap of his voice stills me, but it’s the concern in his eyes that softens me.
“I made a pass at you, and you turned it into a joke.”
Logan releases the handlebar and almost trips over his own bike as he scrubs a hand over his short hair. “You what? And I what?”
“I tried to kiss you, and you pushed me away.”
“I had to have been drunk.” His gaze roams my body, and the perusal is a desperate caress, one frantic to remember me. His eyes outline my form as if given a second chance to touch me, only he never touched me in the first place.
“I didn’t look like this then. I was just some fat girl who wanted your sausage.”
His head snaps upward, eyes meeting mine. “I did not say that.”
“Yes, you did,” I bark, and then I take a deep breath. “Look, like I said, it was a long time ago, and it doesn’t matter. I don’t know why it’s even coming up now but—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. First, I would never call you fat.” His gaze skims up and down my body once more, and as much as I want to feel his appraising hunger against my skin, my teenage heart still aches from his harmful words.
“You did—”
“Uh.” He raises a hand to stop me. “And if you ever kissed me, I’d certainly remember.”
“Well, I remember, and you don’t, and it was just stupid.”
“Kissing me was stupid?” His eyes widen. His face horrified.
“We didn’t kiss. It was stupid that I tried, and I don’t even know why we are discussing this now.”
“Because you’re mad at me for something that happened twenty years ago, that I don’t remember because I was probably drunk and acting like a twenty-year-old asshole.”
His emphatic explanation does make sense. It’s the rationale I’d given myself for years, so I don’t know why I’m letting it get to me now. I’ve been with plenty of men since Logan’s rejection—men who wanted me—at least for a little while.
“It doesn’t matter,” I state again, but Logan reaches out for my arm while still holding his bike in his other hand.
“It matters to you, so it matters to me.” I almost cry at the tenderness in his words, but he can’t mean them. He is just like every other man in my life—say one thing but mean another.
“Well, it’s over now. I’m thoroughly embarrassed”—and hurt—“by the entire situation, and I’d like to go back to you not remembering it.”
“Autumn, honey—”
“Oh no,” I snap. “Do not give me some patronizing crap. I accept your apology, if there was one in there somewhere, and I’m sorry, too. I should have never assumed you’d want me to kiss you.” Despite his arm loosely around my neck and his playful teasing of me throughout that night, I should have remembered it was who Logan was. He was flirty. He was funny. He was sweet. It didn’t mean he wanted to be with me, and the memory always haunts me whenever I am around him.
Pulling my arm from his grasp for the second time today, I press at the bike pedal, propelling myself forward to give me some distance from him and set me on the road to Ben and Anna’s place.
Logan quickly pulls up next to me but thankfully doesn’t speak. Once we return to the house, one of the three-car garage doors is open, and I ride inside. Slipping off the bike, I hastily kick the stand to hold it upright. Logan pulls in after me, and right as I turn for the house, he catches me again by the arms, pulling me up to his chest.
“I want your kisses.” The statement snags my breath. His dark eyes flame, but I’m still wound up.
“Because you don’t want Mason to have them?” I have no idea where the sass comes from, but a competitive spirit has always run through the former roommates.
“Fuck Mason.” Logan tugs me tighter to him. His nostrils flare and his breath assaults my lips, but he stills an inch from contact with my mouth.
Kiss me, I want to scream, but then again, I don’t want it like this. I don’t want it because he feels threatened when there isn’t a threat. I’d never sleep with Mason Becker, not even for a baby.
Our chests heave against one another. My breasts swell and ache inside my Crossroads Café tee, and my nipples peak. His firm pecs tease those nipples, eager for attention. His fingers tighten on my upper arms, but still, his mouth keeps its distance.
A door slams outside the garage, and we both flinch, jumping apart as if we’ve been caught kissing. Logan releases my arms, and I step away, missing his nearness as if we were on the cusp of doing more than melding our mouths together. Shaky fingers come to unkissed lips that still sting with the potential. We stare at each other for another second before I duck my head, slip around him, and exit the garage, left with thoughts of what a kiss from Logan Anders might feel like and if it would ever mean anything to him.
6
[Logan]
“Hey, man, what’s wrong with Speck?” Mason asks, finding me standing inside the garage trying to process everything. I have no recollection of what Autumn told me. Not her trying to kiss me. Not me insulting her. Jesus, I don’t think I could have said such a thing about her, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t. A part of being the heavy guy meant feeling the freedom to pick on other large people. That’s not to say it’s politically correct or even personally acceptable, but it happened a lot in my college years while I was young, ignorant, and drunk.
A sense of humor and a hell of a lot of booze kept up a façade—that I was okay with my size—and I was, but I wasn’t impervious. When other kids picked on me for it, I had to protect myself. Jokes made me acceptable to other guys. Humor was a form of flirting, awarding me the beds of several girls. It was a means to an end. It was also a forcefield around being sensitive to my size.
Then I met Chloe. I thought she accepted me. I thought we were equals in our attitude and habits, but after having Lorna, Chloe changed. She never wanted to go through that—meaning a pregnancy—again. She didn’t want to be bigger. She worked hard at losing weight, turning her against me. Eventually, I repulsed my own wife. After we separated, she started dating. They weren’t small, sleek and skinny but they were healthier than me. She swore she hadn’t been unfaithful during our marriage. I suppose, I’m grateful.
The diabetes diagnosis changed my perspective on healthy habits. That and Lorna’s fear I’d leave her. While Chloe and I did everything to assure our daughter we loved her and planned to parent her equally, Lorna worried I’d die when I learned about my health condition. A mind-reset and a new life course had to happen, and I’m happier and healthier for it..
“I . . . she’s mad at me,” I admit, scrubbing two hands down my face.
“Because you keep bringing up the baby thing?” Mason asks.
“I do not,” I snap. Even though it’s been on my mind, only second to how hot Autumn is now.
“You couldn’t let it go at dinner last night.”
I hadn’t said a thing about it. Zack’s the one who brought it up again, informing Autumn that a father would have rights to his child, and Autumn needed to take legal action if she formulated a list of men. In our litigious generation, Zack wanted her to protect herself and her baby.
“I can let it go,” I growl.
“Keep lying to yourself. Tell me how that works out for you.” Mas
on pats my shoulder and opens his car door, which happens to be parked inside the garage.
“Where are you going?” We aren’t being held hostage, but Ben has made it very clear he wants us around for dinner every night.
“Anna’s sending me on an errand. She said I should pick up condoms for when I sleep with Speck.” Suddenly, I’m slamming Mason against the side of his car and he’s chuckling while I pin him in place. “So much aggression.” His brows wiggle as he shoves me off him. “And so fucking gullible. She can’t get pregnant if I use a condom, dumbass.”
However, even with a condom, Mason got Lynlee’s mother pregnant. He’s the one who brought up his super sperm last night, making jokes that his swimmers surpassed latex and the pill. I’m not impressed and I’m not reassured that Mason doesn’t want to sleep with Autumn.
“Mason,” I hiss, my insides unraveling as my fists clench. I’ve never been a fighter, but I’m turning into one where Autumn is concerned.
“Relax, man. I’m only looking for my sunglasses. Ben wants to hang at the beach before dinner.”
I’ve never understood the friendship between Mason and Ben. Ben is just a great guy, kind and thoughtful, while Mason is thoughtless and selfish to the core. However, their history involves Ben’s father also being kind and Mason’s dad being a dick.
Without another word, I turn away from Mason and head for the house.
+ + +
After taking some time to cool off, I head to the kitchen to find Anna and Autumn with helpers in Mila and Lorna. My earlier bike ride started out as a ruse. I offered to take Mila and Lorna down the inner drive. On our return trip toward the cottage, I asked the girls if they wanted to stop at the café and wait for Autumn, secretly hoping they wouldn’t. Lorna convinced me to let them ride the remainder of the way home without me, and I agreed, giving them space while I needed my own to pursue Autumn.
