Walk Through Fire (Page 147)

“High heels. Handbags. Facials. We get to look at and touch our knockers anytime we want, even if festivities are occurring alone. And we get to take cock in a variety of orifices.”

His eyebrows over his shades flew up. “You seriously talkin’ dirty to me before I gotta force down a fuckin’ salad?”

“Yes,” I replied.

His eyebrows disappeared as he muttered, “One of the reasons I love you,” right before he dipped deeper and gave me a lip touch.

Our enjoyable chat was clearly over, for when he lifted his head, he released me but slid an arm along my shoulders and started guiding us to the restaurant.

We’d taken three steps when he noted quietly, “You seem okay.”

“Not sure this is gonna be easy on Deb or me. So we’re on common ground.”

His hand at my shoulder gave it a squeeze. “She’s cool, Millie,” he assured.

“And I’ll be cool too,” I promised.

“Already know that,” he said, eyes to the restaurant.

But it wasn’t exactly a restaurant, as such. I didn’t know what you called it outside calling it a salad bar.

It was Deb’s choice. This was because it was her favorite place close to work. This was also because, Logan told me, she was very healthy, worked out a lot, and ate food that was good for her.

Learning this, I was beginning to lose my surprise at all things that didn’t jibe about Logan and Deb.

Logan worked out, definitely. But he ate and drank whatever he wanted, back in the day and, I’d noticed, now.

I did the same, for the most part, not counting the seventeen thousand, two hundred, and eleven diets I’d been on since losing him, all of these lasting from one day to three weeks, and, of course, the one Pilates session I’d attended.

Normally, if told I was going to a salad bar for lunch, I would balk.

But I knew this one and they had squares of pound cake and really good vanilla pudding at the end so I was looking forward to it.

I was thinking this as I got another squeeze of my shoulder. I looked up to Logan to see his profile had changed. It was no longer relaxed and natural. It wasn’t hard either.

It was alert.

I turned my attention back to the restaurant and saw a pretty, petite blonde woman in maroon button-down shirt with a fleece jacket over it standing at the doors, looking at us.

No, watching us.

I knew this because I’d vaguely noticed her when I’d pulled in.

And she was still there.

Oh God, that was Deb.

Oh God, Deb had watched Logan and I greet, me make him smile and laugh, hand him some dirty talk, him kiss me and guide me her way holding me close.

Shit.

“Yo,” Logan called when we were at the bumpers of the cars parked in front of the salad bar.

“Hey,” Deb called back.

I lifted a hand and waved.

“Hey,” I repeated.

Deb looked at me and I saw as we came close she didn’t wear a lot of makeup and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but the blonde was pretty, the color suited her, she had a killer bod even if her work outfit wasn’t the greatest, and she was a lot more attractive up close.

“Hey, Millie,” she said to me, and when we stepped up to the walk in front of the salad bar, she extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

I took my arm from around Logan’s waist (he did not reciprocate the gesture when I did) and took her hand.

“Nice to meet you too.”

She smiled at me and I smiled back but did it studying her hard.

I did this but I could find nothing there. Even though she looked nothing like either of her girls, her smile was like Cleo’s when she wasn’t forcing it.

Natural. Genuine. Friendly.

And it made her even prettier.

“Let’s go in,” Logan prompted. “I wanna eat lettuce like I want someone to drill a bullet in my gut but at least these fuckers always have a vat of chili at the end.”

Deb shook her head at him but did it grinning before she looked to me even as she turned to the doors of the restaurant.

“Getting him to eat anything healthy was like pulling teeth,” she told me like she was sharing just any tidbit of information with anyone from friend to stranger. “I gave up about six days into our marriage.”

“Thank fuck,” Logan muttered.

Okay.

Hmm.

I didn’t know what to think about that.

What I did know was that I wasn’t sure I was up for a trip down the memory lane of their marriage even if that marriage wasn’t full of joy, love, and laughter.

I said nothing, just aimed a noncommittal grin to Deb as we moved to the cash register.

There, Logan made it clear he was paying for all of us. Deb made it clear she didn’t think that was necessary and offered to pay. They had a mild fight.

And I didn’t know what to think about that either.

To end it, I said to Deb, “Sorry, but I’m a little hungry and I know you have to get back to work, so do I, so why don’t we let Logan pay and if we do this again, we can take turns.”

“Good idea,” she replied on another natural smile and headed to the salad bar.

We got our food. We took our seats, me pinned in our side of the booth by Logan.

And after taking them in, I didn’t know what to think about the state of our trays.

After getting his tray, Logan didn’t even bother walking the salad bar. He went straight to the hot stuff at the end. Therefore, he had a bowl of chili, a plate full of nachos, two pieces of corn bread, three garlic sticks, and four cups—one filled with pound cake, one filled with whipped cream, and two filled with vanilla pudding.