Page 36 of Logan

I gaze out at the vast expanse of greenery, marveling at the beauty of this place, so different from the urban landscapes I’m accustomed to.

“It’s lovely here, isn’t it?” Sloane’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

Turning to her, I find her studying me intently.

“Yes. Much more than I anticipated.”

“I’m glad you came with me,” she says with a smile.

I nod. “I’m glad I did too.”

“Good, because I was worried you might hate me for dragging you here on the bus and all.”

“I would have preferred to skip the bus ride, but I quite like the castle,” I admit, returning Sloane’s smile. Despite my initial reservations, I’m enjoying the experience.

As wecontinue exploring, my stomach interrupts with a reminder of its need for sustenance.

“Do you want to eat?” I ask.

“Absolutely. I’m famished. I spotted a charming pasta restaurant on our way here.”

“I don’t eat carbs.”

Her expression shifts to concern. “Oh. Are you gluten-sensitive?”

“No, I’m not sensitive to anything.”

Her hand falls back to her side. “Then why avoid carbs?”

“Because they’re fattening and unhealthy.”

“Worried about gaining weight?” Sloane’s gaze sweeps over me, making me feel oddly exposed. “Now I understand your constant grumpiness.”

“Constant grumpiness?” I repeat, bewildered.

“Yep. It’s all because of a lack of carbohydrates,” she asserts, already heading toward the restaurant without waiting for my response.

Chapter Twelve

SLOANE

Islurp up a heavenly forkful of pasta slathered in pesto and cheese while Logan pokes at his ravioli with his fork.

I have no idea why he ordered that dish because it doesn’t look like he has any intention of eating it. I peek at him out of the corner of my eye.

I can’t believe I called him grumpy. I have no control over my mouth, and for some reason, my verbal blunders are worse than usual when I’m around him. If I still have a job when we get back, it’ll be a miracle. Better to keep quiet from now on.

“Did you know that if a female ferret is not mated when she comes into heat she dies?”

Logan coughs. “Okay. That’s good to know.”

“I’m sorry. I just—" I lower my eyes. I just blurt out whatever my mind thinks with no filters whatsoever.

Logan isn’t eating, but he sips a little of the wine we ordered,the most expensive on the menu, which he ordered without hesitation. We’re sitting in a secluded corner booth in the restaurant that Logan more or less demanded from the poor hostess.

He really doesn’t need to yell. She took one look at his face and gloomy expression and immediately directed us here. I would’ve preferred to sit by the window, but Logan prefers that as few people as possible see him or he them.

So friendly.