The Winter We Collided: A Small Town Single Dad Romance (Ocean Pines Series Book 2)

by Victoria Denault

“Oh my God,” she whispers and her face explodes with pink color. I can feel myself blush too because, shit, I don’t embarrass easily but this is definitely worthy.

  Chewie, who skidded to a halt as we both yelped and fell, turns to run back into the house, stopping only to grab my towel. “Chewie! Drop it!”

  He picks this exact moment to ignore all the training I spent time and money on since I adopted him and disappears into the house with my towel between his teeth. Chloe watches him go and then turns back to me and bursts into a fit of laughter.

  “Honest to God, I was really hoping that there would never be a time in my life when being naked and horizontal with a woman on top of me would make her burst out laughing,” I say, and then I can’t help but laugh myself.

  “I’m sorry. It’s not you.” She curls her face into my chest in an attempt to hide her smile and laughter, which is still going strong. “It’s panicked laughter. Nerves. I…I’m embarrassed.”

  “You’re embarrassed?” I repeat, eyebrows sky high. “You’re not the one who looked like he was macking on his sister-in-law and who is currently bare-assed in a snowbank.”

  “Logan!” Nova calls out from inside my apartment. “I’m leaving your towel by the front door and hiding in the bathroom until you’re decent.”

  “Thanks Nova!” I call back. “She’s married to my older brother. I was just comforting her over something. She’s always been like a sister, and I couldn’t think of her any other way.”

  Chloe looks back up at me and her eyes are brimming with tears from her laughter. She’s fighting another burst of it, I can tell. “You must be freezing. I’ll get up.”

  “Are you okay? Any dizziness or vision issues? This could make your concussion symptoms worse,” I warn her.

  “I’m fine, just embarrassed,” she assures me and starts to push up and off of me but I instinctively wrap my arms around her waist, stilling her and keeping her pinned to me. Our eyes connect again and suddenly, for a second, this isn’t just an awkward, slap-stick situation. There’s a flicker of heat between us. It’s brief, deep, and sobering.

  “Just to let you know, I’m freezing,” I say quietly. “And cold and nudity don’t do a man any favors.”

  Her blush deepens. “I promise not to look, let alone judge.”

  She pulls herself off me, snaps her eyes shut as soon as she has her balance, and turns away from me. As soon as there’s space between us I cover my junk with my hands. Seriously, could this be more awkward? I’m almost scared to ask the universe this question in case it takes it as a challenge. “I’ll see you upstairs in a few. Bring the towel stealing dog-horse.”

  She marches around the side of the house and out of view. Only then do I extricate myself from the freezing cold snow bank and make my way back to my apartment. As she promised, Nova has left my towel in the middle of the kitchen floor. Chewie is lying directly on top of it. I grab a corner and tug it out from under him. He looks up innocently, wagging his tail. I point at him. “Worst wingman ever.”

  Wrapping it back around my waist I call out, “It’s safe now.”

  Nova comes out of the bathroom and stares at me from the hall. She’s wearing a giant grin and her shoulders are shaking from a silent giggle. “So, I think I can safely say I did get some intel to share with Terra. Brunette. Chloe.”

  “Can you not tell Terra about Chloe yet, please?” I ask and Nova cocks her head inquisitively. “I mean sure, say brunette if you have to, but not her name. Terra kind of knows Chloe. I mean she met her once, and I just don’t want Terra to ask me a million questions. It may just be one date.”

  “What part do you want to keep quiet? That she’s your landlord or that you’re dating her?” Nova asks.

  “Yeah. All of that. Please.”

  “Come on, hermano. You know that your family loves you and just wants you to be happy,” Nova says softly with a tender smile.

  “I know they mean well.” I nod and then shrug. “I just feel like Terra and Finn and everyone will add pressure to the situation. It’s not like riding a bicycle, this dating thing. I forget how and don’t need an audience while I fumble my way through it.”

  She pinches my cheek like an old granny does to a five-year-old. “You’ll do fine Logan. You’re a natural charmer, just like your twin.”

  She marches past me to the door, giving Chewie a small scratch behind the ears as she passes.

  “Nova, one more thing,” I say hopefully. “Can you keep this little lost towel caper between us for like forever, please?”

  “No manito, I really can’t,” she calls back and disappears from view around the side of the house. “That’s got to come out eventually. It’s too good to keep to myself.”

  Ugh.

  10

  Chloe

  That did not just happen. Only it did. It happened. I was just lying on top of a naked Logan Hawkins. I shut my front door behind me and cover my face with my hands. Is mercury in retrograde? Is Venus circling Pluto or some other astrological nonsense that throws the world into chaos? Is that why I keep getting put in awkward situations with Logan Hawkins?

  I walk into the kitchen and check on the homemade Hollandaise sauce I left simmering on the stove. I give it a stir. As always, my little sous-chef Stevie mills about at my feet. I can’t stop blushing because I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I was lying on top of him and he was naked. Despite the snowbank and the frigid air around us, his taut body was warm under me. If it wasn’t so crazy and mortifying I think it would have felt amazing. That’s got me flustered too.

  There’s a knock on the front door. I cringe. Oh God, I have to face him again.

  “Come in!” I call way too brightly.

  A second later Logan and Chewie are in the doorway of the kitchen. Stevie barks once and goes back to staring up at me, waiting for me to drop something she can snarf down. Boss has left his position sleeping on the couch in the living room and is now standing directly under Chewie and barking. I shush him and look up to meet Logan’s eyes. We both smile at each other and then burst out laughing.

  I cover my face with my hands again. “I am so sorry.”

  “I’m sorry. I haven’t dated in a long time but I’m pretty sure you’re only supposed to see me naked after the date,” Logan says as his laugh dies. “I blame Chewie.”

  I look down at his dog, who somehow has a guilty look on his face like he knows what we’re saying. “I didn’t see anything, if it makes you feel better. It all happened so fast.”

  That’s not true. I saw stuff. Glimpses of smooth skin, ripped muscle, sculpted thighs and a very well-endowed blur of something…I fight another wave of heat to my face.

  “Good. I mean, it would have made all the effort I took showering in a bathing suit with you a moot point,” Logan replies and walks further into the kitchen. “I hate putting in effort for nothing.”

  The awkward tension in the room suddenly lifts. I start to relax. Logan walks over to the stove. He looks at the contents of the pots on the burner. “Homemade hollandaise?”

  I nod. “My own secret recipe and it includes the lobster meat you brought me…”

  “I’m glad you like seafood,” Logan says and leans against the counter next to me. “I’m pretty sure the government makes you leave the tri-state area if you don’t eat seafood.”

  “Kind of like if you don’t eat SPAM in Hawaii,” I reply and his face twists in confusion.

  “SPAM?”

  “It’s super popular in Hawaii,” I explain. “Hawaii consumes more SPAM than any other state.”

  “I had no idea,” Logan murmurs then crinkles his nose. “Are you serving me SPAM?”

  “No, but I do have a killer recipe for a SPAM breakfast hash. I’ll make you try it one day and you’ll be surprised how good it is,” I explain and walk by him to go to the fridge. I pull out a pack of lobster chowder soup I defrosted earlier and walk back over to the stove. “This is a twist on a crab Eggs Benny I make. I like to add a dash
of lobster bisque to my hollandaise, since that’s all the lobster I can usually afford. But today we get a good chunk of claw meat on top of the egg before I pour on the hollandaise, thanks to your stolen stash.”

  “Lobster Benny sounds delicious, and I don’t know why I haven’t thought of it myself,” Logan says, his eyes are fixed on my hand while I stir the sauce. His thick arms are casually crossed over his wide chest. I’m acutely aware of everything about him.

  “I can’t say I invented it. My friend Mitch was going on about a seafood Benny he had in Boston and it inspired me to start experimenting.”

  “Is Mitch Aspen’s new boyfriend? Or baby daddy?” Logan asks casually and I give him a pointed look, which turns his handsome features instantly sheepish. “Sorry. That was Mrs. Green level nosy.”

  “Mitch is an account executive at a local outdoor clothing company. I met him when I worked on their website and I may work with him again on an ad campaign,” I pour a little of the bisque into the hollandaise. “Also, gay, so no, not Aspen’s baby daddy that I know of.”

  The simmering sauce starts to smell like the lobster bisque, and I swear I hear Logan’s stomach rumble. “It smells divine, doesn’t it?”

  “If it tastes half as good, I’ll be in heaven,” Logan replies. “How much soup do you add, exactly?”

  I smile. “Trying to steal my recipe?”

  He looks stunned and genuinely insulted, so I turn away from the stove and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m kidding!”

  “I would never steal it. I swear,” he replies and I want to kick myself.

  “I know you’re trustworthy, Logan, after all you were a perfect gentleman in the shower with me. That’s all the proof I need,” I say and it lightens the mood like I hoped. He grins.

  “That was easy though because I was worried you’d pass out,” Logan replies. “Behaving myself in the snow bank was harder.”

  My heart flutters in fear or lust, I can’t tell. What I do know is that if there is a line in this tenant-landlord relationship, he just stuck the tip of his toe over it at the very least, right?

  “Did your sister-in-law die with laughter?” I ask as he reaches past me to take the spoon off the spoon rest and stir the hollandaise for me. We’re very close, almost touching, and when he cocks his head to look at me I can feel his breath on my cheek. Butterflies explore the inside of my belly.

  “Nova was shocked, but she’ll recover. I just had to get her to promise not to tell Terra. She doesn’t know you’re my landlord let alone my brunch date,” Logan explains, and I realize this family likes their secrets. I just don’t know why. “I love my family but they can be a lot. I wanted time to settle in here before I brought their special brand of crazy into this new living situation.”

  He smiles lightly, but there’s more to it that I don’t know and that he doesn’t want to tell me. I don’t push him because I, too, have my secrets. Instead, I take the spoon from him and stir the sauce myself, trying and failing to ignore the fact that when our fingers brush, the butterflies in my stomach seem to triple. “Tell me about Hawkins Lobster Shack.”

  His handsome face lights up. “My parents have been running the restaurant since I was eight. They took it over from my dad’s parents. Nova and my brother Finn oversee the restaurant part. Terra handles accounting and staffing. Dad does the fishing, with my help when I can manage it. And my brother Declan—Nova’s husband—handles the marketing and promotions. Mom oversees the kitchen. It’s chaos sometimes, and it’s a lot of head-butting other times because we all have very different personalities and know how to press each other’s buttons, but I don’t think any of us would give it up.”

  I smile at the idea of this big family working together, and the proud smile he doesn’t realize he’s wearing as he talks about them warms me. The timer goes off for the eggs that are being poached. I reach for the clotted spoon and give him a small hip check. “Outta my way, Hawkins. I’ve got to finish this up so we can eat.”

  He steps away, parking himself at the island. “There’s fresh mango juice or celery juice or boring old orange juice in the fridge. Help yourself.”

  I can hear him walking around behind me as I get everything plated. The whole vibe between us is amazingly, yet oddly, comfortable. I feel so at ease with him despite all the weird situations we’ve been thrown into together or maybe because of them. All I know is this is the best date I’ve been on since Jackson.

  I turn, holding two plates full of food but wanting to do other things besides eat. I want to touch him. I want to kiss him. I want to…I force myself to turn toward the dining room. “Let’s eat in there. Can you bring the juice?”

  He picks up two of the pitchers of juice and carries them to the dining room. I have already set the table. It’s a round oak table with folding sides, and I’ve only left one side open and put both place settings there. It’s cozy but not intimate…at least that’s what I was going for. We sit, and as he picks up his fork, he surveys the food on his plate with a smile. “You put it on a hash brown instead of an English muffin?”

  “A homemade crunchy potato cake. My grandmother’s recipe,” I say. “Now it’s my turn to show some family pride. Make sure to get a little bit of everything in your first bite—potato, sauce, lobster, and egg.”

  He does just that, and when he closes his eyes while he chews and gives me a deep rumbling groan of approval, my butterflies are back and making my belly quiver.

  “This is insanely delicious,” Logan gushes after he’s swallowed and promptly puts another piece in his mouth. “There’s bacon in this potato cake. That is sensational!”

  I smile. “Grandma Rose’s recipe never fails to impress.”

  “I have to tell my mom about this. Would you mind?”

  “Of course not,” I say easily.

  “Maybe you can tell her yourself,” he says as he picks up the pitcher of mango juice and offers me some. I nod and he fills my glass. “I mean, if you want to come by the restaurant again sometime.”

  “Sure. I mean, maybe one day.”

  I want to tell him I’ll be there tomorrow, but only to see Terra. It feels weird not telling him, so I make the decision to ask Terra if he can be looped in on her secret project and explain he’s my tenant. Logan goes back to devouring breakfast. “So…tell me more about you.”

  “Like what?” I question, and he glances over at me and then swiftly moves his eyes back to his plate. I think of the night he was waking me up for the concussion, and I know exactly what he isn’t going to ask but wants to. So I ask it for him. “Like who is Jackson?”

  He’s reaching for his glass of mango juice but freezes momentarily. “I’m assuming an ex, but you know what they say about assuming. It contains the word ass for a reason.” He smiles sheepishly.

  Man, I find this guy ridiculously charming. As I watch him take a sip of his juice, I think about the look of horror and sympathy on his face when I said my parents died. The way his voice dropped into that tone I’ve heard too much in my life. The one dripping with pity.

  Then I think of my last date eleven months ago. At first things were going great and we even planned a second date before the first one was even halfway done. I actually thought the guy, Derek, was boyfriend material. I met him at work. He was one of the freelance photographers hired to shoot photos for the website I was designing, and we really hit it off. But then the subject of exes came up as he drove me home from the restaurant. He told me about some three-year relationship that ended badly, and I told him I had a marriage end. By death. I didn’t word it so dramatically but I might as well have. He spent the rest of the car ride looking at me like I was a circus freak he felt sorry for.

  He didn’t return my phone calls for a week and canceled our next date by text. Finally, he called and explained that he didn’t think we should see each other anymore. He can deal with ex-husbands but not dead ones, because he didn’t think there was a way for a woman to get over that. I told him to go fuck himself and
hung up. Not my finest hour.

  I remember the conversation I had with Aspen and her suggestion about being vague. Then I didn’t think I could lie, but now, knowing how much I like being around Logan, I don’t want him to look at me the way Derek did. Logan is staring at me patiently awaiting a response. I take a sip of my juice.

  “Yeah, Jackson and I were married.”

  Not a lie.

  “Has it been over a while?”

  “It ended five years ago.”

  Also not a lie.

  “I’m sorry. I know when a relationship blows up it’s a big bag of suck.”

  I nod.

  “Was it amicable?”

  I swallow my bite of food. “There was nothing either of us could do to fix it, and we both know that.”

  Jesus I feel like I’m mentally walking a tightrope with lies on one side and truth on the other, and I’m wobbling like a drunk girl in high heels. I’m pretty sure if I don’t change the subject I’ll teeter right off this tightrope and land in a web of lies I can’t get out of. “You and your son’s mom, was that amicable?”

  He gives me a small smile but it’s terse. “I’m trying to be on good terms. She has a right to be bitter and angry. I was a horrible boyfriend, a worse fiancé, and everything blew up before River was one, which made her feel abandoned.”

  He looks so pained as he makes that confession, and a morbid part of me wants more details anyway because I can’t for the life of me picture him as someone who would be labeled a bad anything. But I change the topic because this brunch is turning into a big old downer. “Tell me about your son. River?”

  Logan’s expression turns soft and is filled with pride. “River Charles Hawkins is something else. He’s strong and energetic and witty, sometimes to a fault. He loves hockey, but unfortunately the wrong team. We’re hoping he grows out of that.”

  “Ugh. New England and their sports team loyalty.” I roll my eyes as I smile at him.

  “You don’t follow sports?” he questions.

  “I can tell you who the surfing world champion has been the last three years running,” I say. “You can take the girl out of Hawaii but you can’t take Hawaii out of the girl.”