Page 62 of Consuming Logan

While he looked for a napkin, he grabbed the empty bottle of bourbon from the table and his glass.

He called, “The side door is open, Granny Lou.”

In the kitchen he disposed of the bottle and put the glass tumbler in the dishwasher. Cupping his hands in front of his mouth, he exhaled. Damn, he smelled like a distillery.

“Don’t sass me,” Granny Lou snapped. “Get up and open the door.”

Okay, do not upset your woman’s grandmother. Logan loved Louise Stanton.

“Yes, ma’am.” Fumbling in the kitchen drawers for the breath mints, Logan threw contents on the counter. The red and white rectangular box with the hinged lid came into view. Without counting, he dumped a handful of peppermint disks into his hand, then tossed them into his mouth. One of the mints went left instead of right. He choked.

Eyes watering, he coughed out, “Hold on.”

Coughing, he slapped his chest grazing the old chest wound. “Shit.”

“What was that?” Granny Lou called out.

Back in the beginning when he was trying to win Ava, Granny Lou had been his only supporter. Thank God she’d convinced Ava to give him a chance.

Pulling the door wide, Logan stepped back. Granny Lou, dressed in a pink cotton tee shirt, blue loose wide-legged pants, and her signature gold-sequined tennis shoes, walked in the place like she paid the mortgage.

“What brings you by?” he asked, trying to keep his inquiry casual.

She looked at him with a critical eye. “My granddaughter asked me to help around the house.” She stepped around him, entering the house. “Grab my knitting bag from the porch.”

Logan did as she asked. The cloth satchel weighed a ton.

“There’s no need,” he said, closing the door. “I keep the place tidy.”

She glanced at the blanket strewn across the couch and the spilled popcorn.

“Bless your heart,” she said, handing him a floral print tote bag from her shoulder. “Just set that in the family room. I’ll let you know when we’re ready for it.”

Without giving him time to object, Granny Lou padded into the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker.

“How do you take your coffee?”

Logan glanced at the blue light on the cable television box. The time read eleven. “I’ll pass.”

She turned to stare at him. “My grand baby will not come home to find her fiancé five sheets to the wind.”

Logan frowned. “Pretty sure that’s three.”

Granny Lou placed a hand on her ample hip. “Even with the mints,” she paused, “I smell more than three sheets on you, Logan Masters.”

How much had he drank since Ava left for work? Somewhere between breakfast and mid-morning he must have lost track of his intake. If Granny Lou made these drop-ins on a regular basis, he would have to be more careful.

“Black. One sugar,” he replied. Why had Ava put him on an intercept course with the Walters family matriarch?

“Logan, come in here.”

He found himself tucking in his shirttails and running fingers through his hair. He took a seat at the counter. A steamy cup of morning Joe materialized in front of him.

“Thank you,” he said, raising the mug in a toast.

“Have you eaten?”

He’d planned to, but the morning had come and gone with him vegged out on the couch.