To a Tea by Katie O'Connor

Author:Katie O'Connor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, firefighter, alcoholic, family, small town, mountain town, Alberta, Canada
Publisher: Katie O'Connor
Published: 2018-01-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

TEA PAUSED AT THE END of the sidewalk leading up to Logan’s front step. The house hadn’t changed much. He’d painted the formerly green bungalow steel grey and added an attached garage to one end. The white trim was pristine. The late fall flowers were a surprise. They were annuals too, not perennials. She hadn’t realized that he kept the gardens up. They’d been his mother’s pride and joy. He’d mowed the lawn and lights shone in the curtained windows. A shadow passed by the front window, behind the sheers.

Logan. Waiting for her.

She hurried up the walk and he jerked the door open before she could knock.

“Whoa!” she exclaimed.

“Sorry. I thought you were debating leaving. I didn’t want you to.”

“Honestly, it did cross my mind.”

He winced.

She giggled nervously. “I decided to stay, to give you, to give us, a chance.”

“I guess I deserved that.”

It was her turn to grimace. “Actually, you didn’t.” She stuck out her hand. “Let’s start again. Hi, I’m Chastity Howell, call me Tea.”

He lifted one brow questioningly and then it morphed into a full-fledged smile.

“Nice to meet you.” He took her hand and shook it warmly. “I’m Logan Wright. Please, come in.”

“Thank you,” she replied formally, stepping over the threshold into the house and slipping out of her jacket. She took a moment to study him while he hung up her coat. His face was still slightly damp from shaving and he smelled of toothpaste and citrusy cologne. Yummy. His perfectly pressed, navy and white checked shirt tucked neatly into his jeans. He was barefoot; his toenails cut short and neat. She liked that. She’d dated a few men who missed small grooming details and discovered that they often skimped on more important hygiene rituals. Yuck.

Tearing her gaze away from him, she glanced around. “Oh, it looks so different. I like it.” She slipped out of her black suede walking boots and strode through the small foyer into the living room.

“I love the leather,” she exclaimed, stroking the back of an oversized brown leather couch that sat kitty-corner to a well-used matching recliner. “Are those the tables your grandfather made?”

“They are. I refinished them last year. They were beat to crap. James, Julia and I were pretty hard on them. We trashed a lot of furniture. It’s a wonder my folks didn’t kill us.”

“I remember. We broke the leg off the kitchen table that time...what were we doing?”

“Theoretically speaking, we were making pizza. In reality, it was a full-on food fight.”

“Man, that was a blast.”

“Until Dad got home. You and I got in such trouble we were supposed to be watching the twins.”

“I remember. Your dad said, ‘You two are two years older than the twins. I expect you to be responsible and take care of them and to show them how to behave.’ Gosh, how many times did we get that lecture? Hundreds?” She chuckled.

“At least. I talked to them last night. James is exhausted; internship and medical rounds are kicking his butt. Julia

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