least the near future. I felt like now when he came home I would find myself judging everything Logan did as if he was making some kind of sexual gesture. I’d watch him squirt a ketchup bottle or reach down to tie his shoe or walk behind him and this conversation right here would come bubbling back up again.
Damn you, Jaycie, what have you done?
15
The first night Logan was home we ended up at dinner at my favorite burger joint. There was nothing in Nashville that could hold a candle to Burger Mayhem when it came to my appetite. When I showed up that Wednesday evening outside, Logan was already outside the restaurant waiting. Finally, he was learning. This time I wasn’t going to have to be stared at by restaurant-goers thinking I’d been stood up.
It started right then, as I knew it would. I didn’t see his broad shoulders the same anymore. When he hugged me I felt the muscles Jaycie so vividly described, the ones I had missed until then. I purposely made sure to walk in front of him up the stairs so I didn’t find myself staring at him from behind.
I could smell the island goodness of my Hawaiian-style burger as the waiter placed my dish in front me. The grilled pineapple sat perfectly on top of my burger that was drizzled in a sweet-and-sour dijonnaise sauce. Logan put a handful of fries in his mouth while I preferred to savor the beef first.
“Wow, you weren’t kidding. You sure have changed from the girl I once knew,” Logan said.
“I told ya” I said in between bites.
He laughed as I caught the pineapple that escaped my mouth.
“Pineapple on your burger. Dijoinnaise instead of ketchup. I’m seriously in awe.”
“Oh come on, I wasn’t that bad.”
“Not that bad? What about that time with the hash browns and maple syrup?” He asked.
I couldn’t believe he remembered that. Mama’s Sunday morning breakfasts always consisted of pancakes, hash browns and sausage. Logan attended at least one of them a month. One time, she poured the syrup onto my plate and it soaked into the bottom of my hash browns. I cried immediately and refused to eat anything in front of me. She finally gave up the “it won’t kill you” speech and just fixed me another plate.
“Wow, I forgot about that,” I said.
I was still like that when I first moved to Nashville. Before I fell in love with Soulful Grinds though, I hopped around to many different coffee houses and attended most of their songwriter nights. It was a great way for me to stay inspired by words and people with dreams. One night I met a guy named Brendan. He was a songwriter with a publishing deal who performed all over Nashville. The last song he sang was probably one of the most beautiful melodies I’d ever heard. As a hopeful journalist at that point, I went up and introduced myself to him and we started talking. He probably knew the moment I ordered my plain back coffee with a hint of nonfat milk that I wasn’t the adventurous kind. We met up several times after that and each time I proved that more and more.
He took me out to dinner one night at a fancy French restaurant. Apparently we had talked about that one night when he was testing me and my traditional ways and I had gone on about my love of French food. I felt awful at that point, since I was pretty sure most if not all of his paycheck was going toward this dinner, so I went along with it, not wanting to embarrass him (or myself, as a matter of fact). I couldn’t pronounce anything on the menu, but I ordered from it anyway like I was a connoisseur. When each course came to our table I stared at it for a terrified minute before taking a bite.
I will admit, even though I was utterly uncomfortable the entire night since I had no idea what I was putting in my mouth, I was proud of myself for stepping outside my comfort zone. The food was impeccable and Brendan and I had a great night of conversation.
Once I got home I did a little research on what I had ordered and my jaw
Damn you, Jaycie, what have you done?
15
The first night Logan was home we ended up at dinner at my favorite burger joint. There was nothing in Nashville that could hold a candle to Burger Mayhem when it came to my appetite. When I showed up that Wednesday evening outside, Logan was already outside the restaurant waiting. Finally, he was learning. This time I wasn’t going to have to be stared at by restaurant-goers thinking I’d been stood up.
It started right then, as I knew it would. I didn’t see his broad shoulders the same anymore. When he hugged me I felt the muscles Jaycie so vividly described, the ones I had missed until then. I purposely made sure to walk in front of him up the stairs so I didn’t find myself staring at him from behind.
I could smell the island goodness of my Hawaiian-style burger as the waiter placed my dish in front me. The grilled pineapple sat perfectly on top of my burger that was drizzled in a sweet-and-sour dijonnaise sauce. Logan put a handful of fries in his mouth while I preferred to savor the beef first.
“Wow, you weren’t kidding. You sure have changed from the girl I once knew,” Logan said.
“I told ya” I said in between bites.
He laughed as I caught the pineapple that escaped my mouth.
“Pineapple on your burger. Dijoinnaise instead of ketchup. I’m seriously in awe.”
“Oh come on, I wasn’t that bad.”
“Not that bad? What about that time with the hash browns and maple syrup?” He asked.
I couldn’t believe he remembered that. Mama’s Sunday morning breakfasts always consisted of pancakes, hash browns and sausage. Logan attended at least one of them a month. One time, she poured the syrup onto my plate and it soaked into the bottom of my hash browns. I cried immediately and refused to eat anything in front of me. She finally gave up the “it won’t kill you” speech and just fixed me another plate.
“Wow, I forgot about that,” I said.
I was still like that when I first moved to Nashville. Before I fell in love with Soulful Grinds though, I hopped around to many different coffee houses and attended most of their songwriter nights. It was a great way for me to stay inspired by words and people with dreams. One night I met a guy named Brendan. He was a songwriter with a publishing deal who performed all over Nashville. The last song he sang was probably one of the most beautiful melodies I’d ever heard. As a hopeful journalist at that point, I went up and introduced myself to him and we started talking. He probably knew the moment I ordered my plain back coffee with a hint of nonfat milk that I wasn’t the adventurous kind. We met up several times after that and each time I proved that more and more.
He took me out to dinner one night at a fancy French restaurant. Apparently we had talked about that one night when he was testing me and my traditional ways and I had gone on about my love of French food. I felt awful at that point, since I was pretty sure most if not all of his paycheck was going toward this dinner, so I went along with it, not wanting to embarrass him (or myself, as a matter of fact). I couldn’t pronounce anything on the menu, but I ordered from it anyway like I was a connoisseur. When each course came to our table I stared at it for a terrified minute before taking a bite.
I will admit, even though I was utterly uncomfortable the entire night since I had no idea what I was putting in my mouth, I was proud of myself for stepping outside my comfort zone. The food was impeccable and Brendan and I had a great night of conversation.
Once I got home I did a little research on what I had ordered and my jaw
Similar Books
