Billionaire's Single Mom

We closed in on Logan, and he smiled down at my daughter. “Hello, I’m Logan Hawkins.”

She curtsied. “I’m Juniper Blue, Mr. Hawkins.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Juniper.”

“Likewise, Mr. Hawkins.” Juniper blushed and looked down. She was always shy around men she didn’t know.

Logan’s gaze drifted up to my face, and he smiled warmly. “I already have a table for us. Not exactly Rue Verte, but I’ve heard good things about their chicken fried steak.” He opened the door and gestured for us to enter. “Not something I’m going to eat, but always a good sign when they have a nice signature dish.”

Juniper hur

ried inside. I followed.

My stomach rumbled. I hoped he hadn’t heard it. “It’s a good place. We have it delivered at my bank a lot for lunch.”

“Ah, good to know.” He let the door swing closed behind him.

His response made me think about his job. The café was originally picked because it was half-way between our workplaces, but it was obvious he didn’t come here a lot. I wonder if he preferred fancier food and thought a place like this was beneath him.

As he led us to a table, I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind. I’d grown up in a family with a taste for finer things, but my marriage had soured me on snobbery. It’d be easy to give up on Logan if he were that sort of man. I kind of hoped he would be.

Logan pulled out our chairs for us. We both took a seat. I noticed a small cloth bag sitting by Logan’s chair. I wondered what might be inside.

I nibbled my lip. Now that we were sitting a table, all that nervousness I’d pushed away before had returned to smother me. What the heck was I thinking? I was going out on another date with a man I’d thrown myself at after getting drunk at a party.

The more I thought about it, the more I suspected Logan thought I was an easy lay. That was probably the only reason he was putting any effort in at all.

It wasn’t like we’d hit it off our first time at this café. That said, I wasn’t going to be rude to him about it when he’d been nothing but a gentleman. If Mama had taught me anything, it was that you always return politeness with more of the same. That is what separated our fine city from the kind of rudeness you might see in many other cities.

The waitress walked to our table. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Coffee,” Logan said.

“I’ll have some sweet tea,” I said.

“Chocolate milkshake!” Juniper said.

“That’s not something to drink really,” I said.

“Lemonade,” she added, a pout on her face.

“How about all that and a milkshake for Juniper?” Logan said.

The waitress smiled at him. I shook my head at him, but he didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he wasn’t paying attention. It was a sweet gesture, but he didn’t need to spoil Juniper.

“And do you know what you want to eat, or do you need more time?” the waitress asked.

“I’ll have the tomato soup,” Logan said.

“I’ll have the chicken fried steak,” I added. “And chicken tenders for my daughter.”

The waitress smiled, wrote it all down, and hurried away.

“How was your trip?” I said, looking at Logan. Juniper watched us both quietly.

“Ah, great. I love Denmark.”

“You go there a lot?”