He found his mind turning back to Melanie with her dark brown hair that fell just past her slim shoulders. And he hated that thinking of Melanie still felt like a betrayal to his late wife, Caroline—to be noticing another woman’s allure. And yet he was angry with Caroline, too. Was that allowed—to be generally pissed off with the dead? Because he had grievances with both his late mother and his late wife. And apparently, they had a few grievances with him.
He heard the click of a woman’s heels on asphalt, and he glanced up from his phone to see Melanie. He froze. She wasn’t far from him, and she stopped at a car. She’d parked right under his balcony! There was a soft glow coming from the vehicle.
Melanie went around to the driver’s side, looked inside and heaved a sigh.
“Did I really do that?” Her voice carried up to him, as she unlocked her car. It chirped, and she opened the door and got inside. He leaned forward, taking a better look at her car. It was expensive—a Mercedes. The engine growled a couple of times, but it didn’t turn over.
Melanie got back out. He heard her say something that sounded unladylike, and he couldn’t help but grin at that.
“What’s wrong?” he called down to her, and Melanie startled, then looked up. She smiled hesitantly.
“I thought I saw you earlier tonight.”
“That was me,” he said. “It’s been a few years.”
“A few,” she said wryly. “I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive in town. How are you doing?”
And it was like those twenty-three years just slid away again...and she was the beautiful girl he couldn’t get enough of. His gaze dropped down to her left hand, bare of rings.
He cleared his throat. “I’m...good.”
A lie. He was grappling with flawed relationships with the women he’d loved who were already gone, and he was tasked with finding the last man he wanted to see on this planet. But that wasn’t the kind of thing a guy started with.
“I’m not. My car won’t start,” she said. “I left a light on inside.”
“You need a boost?” he asked.
She paused, looked back toward her vehicle, then said, “Yeah, I do. Is it a wild inconvenience?”
“Nah.” He pushed himself to his feet and pocketed his phone. “I’ll come down.”
Logan slipped on his shoes and headed downstairs. The sitting room with the view of the lake was occupied by several couples having drinks, standing in front of the wide windows.
Logan headed out the front doors and angled his steps around to where Melanie was parked. She stood by her car waiting, the warm wind ruffling her dress around her knees.
“My truck is parked over there.” He nodded across the lot. “I’ll bring it over.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was soft, and instead of walking away, he met her clear gaze.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said.
She barked out a laugh. “I’m forty.”
“So?” He shot her a grin. “I’m telling you. You look great.”
“Thanks.” Her gaze moved over him in a quick up and down. “You, too.”
She was being nice. Life had beaten him up and he knew it. But whatever—let her be the nice one tonight.
“Look, I’ve always felt bad about—” He cleared his throat. “Uh—you know, how we parted ways.”
“You mean how you completely ghosted me?” she asked dryly.
“Yeah... I’m sorry. I was immature. I have no excuse.”
She didn’t answer that. She’d been young, too, and she’d been a whole lot more mature than him. But she wasn’t the only one he’d treated badly through the years, and he was only now facing up to that.
“We’re both grown up now,” she said with a faint shrug. “You mentioned having a son when we talked—how old is he?”
“Graham is twenty-one now—he’s taking a degree in art history,” he said, and wasn’t sure why he was suddenly so talkative with her. “He wanted to be a chef. I told him to be more practical. So he chose art history.”
A smile crinkled the fine lines around Melanie’s eyes and she chuckled. Having her relax a bit felt better.
“He took after his mom, then?” she asked. “That’s a wild guess, because you were no artist.”
“Yeah, it would seem,” he said with a rueful smile. Graham looked like his mom, too—the same fair hair, the same blue eyes. “I’m happy with some power tools, and he’s lecturing me on food and art. What can you do?”
She nodded, then dropped her gaze. Right. He was supposed to be helping her out with her car.
“I’ll just go get the truck,” he said, and without waiting for a response, he headed across the parking lot and retrieved his truck. Once he’d parked next to her and fetched the cables from the back, he found Melanie watching him.
“So how was dinner?” he asked.
“Better than I anticipated,” she said.
“Yeah?” What had she been anticipating? He nodded toward her car. “Pop your hood.”
Melanie reached down and undid the clasp, then pushed her hood up.
“Is Angelina more fun than you remembered or something?” he asked. She had a mysterious look about her, too, these days. Everyone had grown up, moved on. Become more.
“Logan, we’re all more fun than I remembered. We’re old enough to be interesting at long last.”
Logan chuckled as he attached the cables to her battery. Melanie hadn’t fully forgiven him, he could tell. Not that he blamed her. He’d been a jerk. He’d left for college, had a whole new life, realized that a long-distance relationship with his high school girlfriend was going to be harder to maintain than he’d realized, and instead of talking to her about it, confessing his own feelings of inadequacy and heartbreak, he’d just cut her off. The few times she’d called him, he’d told her that talking on his cell phone was too expensive. It had been mean, and
