Page 12 of Savoring Christmas (Sugarville Grove #8)

LOGAN

T he old log cabin sat at the edge of the pines with a sign that read, “Mia’s.” Although the restaurant was closed for the evening, a few lights shone from inside. However, Mia had told him to come around back to the entrance up to the apartment where she lived.

He walked around to the back of the building, where a simple wooden door marked the entrance to her private quarters. Before he could knock, a small bark sounded from inside, followed by the soft scrabble of paws against the floor. The door opened and Mia appeared, with Cannoli behind her.

“You’re early,” she said, one hand holding a towel to her damp hair. “I’m not quite ready.”

“I’m sorry. It didn’t take me as long to get here as I thought it would. I can wait in the truck.”

“No, don’t be silly. It’s freezing out here.” She stepped back, gesturing him inside. “Come up while I finish getting ready. I just need to dry my hair.”

He followed her through the back door and up a narrow staircase that hugged the wall, creaking underfoot.

Cannoli trotted ahead like a self-appointed escort, glancing back over her shoulder every few steps to make sure he was keeping up.

When they reached the small landing, she opened another plain door and stepped inside, holding it open for him to pass through.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be quick.” She disappeared into a tiny bathroom. “I’ll just be a minute.”

He looked around the small apartment. The space was bare, reminding him of a bygone era.

A bed neatly made with a simple quilt. A single wooden chair tucked beside a small dresser.

One lamp casting a pool of yellow light.

No couch. No books stacked in corners. No framed photos or art on the walls.

It looked less like someone’s home and more like someone camping out between chapters of their life.

Or someone who didn’t plan to stay long.

He sat in the chair to wait. Cannoli padded over to him, sniffing his shoes with quick little huffs before making an executive decision.

With a light hop, she jumped into his lap, turned twice in a tight circle, and settled in with a contented sigh, her head resting on his thigh as if they’d known each other for years, a small, warm weight in his lap.

How was he to interpret this way of living.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but not a room that looked like it belonged to a monk.

A few minutes later, Mia returned—her shoulder-length hair now dry—dressed in a pair of dark jeans paired with black pumps and a blue cashmere sweater. She started laughing when she saw Cannoli so at home on Logan’s lap. “She’s not exactly a watch dog now, is she?”

“She is not,” he said. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks. You look nice too.”

He was dressed similarly, wearing a pair of jeans and a black sweater. “You okay with The Moose for dinner?”

“Sounds good to me. I’m starving. I spent the afternoon at the food bank sorting through donations and didn’t have time for lunch.”

“My mom says you shouldn’t skip meals,” he said, teasing as he gently moved Cannoli to the bed.

She chuckled. “I agree. “But I tend to get hyperfocused and lose track of time.”

He really hoped she would get “hyperfocused” on him.

“Shall we go?” Mia asked.

“Absolutely.” He stepped aside—as she brushed past him—and followed her down the stairs.

Cannoli trotted after them to the bottom landing, tail wagging hopefully as if she thought she might be invited along. When Mia bent to give her a quick scratch behind the ears, the little dog gave a soft sigh and a sad tilt of her head before she headed upstairs.

On the way in to town, his palms dampened and his stomach felt knotted.

She didn’t say anything for several minutes and he couldn’t think of anything to say either.

First dates were the worst. This is why he usually avoided them.

But this was Mia. He’d wanted to take her out for such a long time. He could not blow this.

She smelled like vanilla and jasmine and looked so pretty sitting across from him that all he could think about was kissing her. He really needed to keep his cool, though. Despite the evidence that she liked him, he sensed an innate skittishness in her.

He turned on Christmas music for background noise. “I like your perfume,” he blurted out.

“Oh, thanks. Is it too much?” Mia asked.

“Not at all.”

“So, how was your day? Are Mondays busy for you at your office?” Mia asked.

Work. That was something he could talk about. “It was good today, actually.”

“What constitutes a good day for you?”

“I got the settlement I wanted for my client. Her soon to be ex-husband tried his best to keep from paying her what’s fair, but we hung in there and finally came to an agreement. It’s always hard when there’s kids involved. Which there usually are or people wouldn’t need an attorney to help.”

“Does it make you wary of marriage? Seeing all those divorces?” Mia asked.

“Not so much wary but informed about all the pitfalls couples succumb to. By the time they come to me, things have deteriorated to the point of no return. It’s hard to imagine how some of them ever decided to marry in the first place.”

“It must be sad, seeing all those broken families.”

“You might think so, but actually it’s almost always better for people to realize something doesn’t work and make the decision to move on with their lives instead of making each other miserable. I represent a lot of women and they almost always thrive after divorce.”

“Have you ever been close to marrying?” Mia asked.

“No. I had a girlfriend in law school but we drifted apart after we graduated. No drama. We just decided it wasn’t something either of us wanted to pursue long-term. Since then, I’ve not really dated much.”

“Why?”

He looked over at her, smiling. “You’re full of questions tonight.”

She shrugged. “I’m a naturally curious person.”

“I haven’t met anyone I’ve wanted to ask out. Until you.”

“Oh, well, that’s kind of nice to hear.”

“How about you?”

“No. Not anyone serious. I spent my twenties busting my butt for work, so there wasn’t really much time for a personal life.

And like I’ve said before, I’ve had trouble meeting people here.

Everyone’s friendly, of course. But most people have friendships that go back years and years.

There’s no room for me. Or that’s what it feels like anyway. ”

“The cooking class was a great idea, as far as that goes,” Logan said. “Thursday night was so sweet—seeing everyone sharing and getting to know one another. It’s a wonderful group of people.”

“To be perfectly honest, it’s unfolding better than I could have hoped for. It’s given me the lift I needed.”

He wanted to ask her more about that but they had reached town by then.

Logan pulled into a spot behind The Moose and soon they were headed inside to the busy restaurant.

The hostess, a high school girl named Melissa, also helped out as one of Santa’s elves out at Max’s Christmas Village.

She greeted them with a friendly smile. “Hey, Logan. No brothers tonight?”

“No ma’am. I chose a much prettier companion for dinner, as you can see.”

Melissa laughed. “Yes, you have. Do you want to eat or just have a drink at the bar?”

“We’re eating,” Mia said enthusiastically. “I’m starved.”

Logan smiled to himself. The woman loved food. It was kind of adorable. Like everything else about her.

Melissa grabbed two plastic menus and asked them to follow her, leading them to a booth in the back.

“Enjoy your meal,” Melissa said before hurrying off to help another customer waiting at the front.

“Do you come here often?” Mia asked from the other side of the table.

“My brothers and I are frequent visitors, yes, when they’re not too busy with their families.” He unfolded a paper napkin wrapped around silverware and placed it on his lap. “I wasn’t sure where to bring you. There’re not many options here in town. Especially fine dining.”

“That was one of the reasons I thought Sugarville Grove was the perfect place to open a restaurant. Anyway, I love this place.”

“I can’t remember seeing you here before trivia night,” Logan said.

“I don’t eat out much. It’s so expensive. And it’s hard to come up with a reason to go out when I can cook anything in my own restaurant kitchen.”

He instantly felt bad. Because he was comfortable financially, he sometimes forgot that not everyone was as lucky.

Mia flipped open the menu, scanning the options. Her eyebrows shot up.

“Moose Antler Nachos?” She grinned. “Maple-Glazed Salmon? S’mores Skillet?” She looked up at him, eyes dancing with amusement. “These names are hilarious.”

“Yes, whoever came up with the menu seems to think they’re funny too,” Logan said. “Locals love to name things after elements of the community.”

“It shows a pride in where they live. These days everyone’s so cynical or ironic.”

“Yeah, those people clearly don’t live here.”

“I find it refreshing after New York.” She leaned back in the booth, still studying the menu. “What do you like?”

“I love their burgers. But anything you choose will be great. And large. The portions here are a little ridiculous.”

“Good, I can take it home and have it for leftovers.” Mia closed the menu with decision. “I’m getting The Moose Burger with sweet potato fries.”

“Do you want a glass of wine?”

“No, I’m having a good, old-fashioned beer to go with my burger,” she said.

“Well, all right then. I will too.”

The server came by to take their orders. “And could I get one of those local craft beers? Something hoppy?” Mia asked.

“We have a holiday IPA on tap tonight,” the server said. “Kind of bitter but with a little spice.”

“Done,” Mia said.

“Make it two,” Logan said.

After the server walked away, he said, “I have to admit, I was expecting you to ask if they had any wine that didn’t come from a box.”