Walk Through Fire (Chaos #4)(157)

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 f*ckers 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 f*ck,” 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.

Halfway through the salad bar, I’d given up on the plate idea since I was piling it on so my salad dripped off the sides. I also had two garlic sticks and two cups, one filled with pound cake, one filled with pudding topped with whipped cream.

Deb’s salad was an eighth the size of mine; she apparently was using cottage cheese as dressing (about a tablespoon of it) and she also had two dessert cups. One filled with pineapple, one filled with strawberries.

I’d never had an issue about my body or the food I ate. This was because my parents didn’t have an issue with either. They gave us healthy food. We were also free to eat whatever treats we wanted. And they complimented us frequently on a variety of things, including telling me and Dot we were beautiful.

Further, I’d garnered male attention from early on. Not any of those males seemed to have a problem with my curves.

Primary to this was hooking up with Logan at an early age.

He’d not only not had a problem with my curves, he showered attention on them. Never had he given me any idea that he wasn’t fiercely attracted to all that was me.

Not even a hint.

But he had two children with Deb, which meant something drew him to her in the first place.

And she was not one thing like me.

“Shit,” he muttered. “They didn’t have taco shells when I went through and just put ’em out. Gonna get some tacos.” He looked to me. “Want some, babe?”

I pressed my lips together and shook my head.

He took off, not bothering to ask Deb because it was clear he knew her answer would be no.

I watched him go, then picked up my fork and started stabbing at my salad, feeling strange.

“You’re not what I expected.”

Deb’s words made me look at her and brace.

“No?” I prompted, even though I didn’t want to and even though I felt the same thing about her but had no intention of sharing that.

She dipped her head my way. “He said you had history, met when you guys were young. I expected total biker babe. Leathers. Harley tees. Stuff like that. Not a class act.”

Well, that was nice.

However.

“Years have gone by, Deb. I’ve changed,” I told her. “I never wore leathers but I used to be top to toe old lady. My cutoffs and halter top days are over but I gotta admit, I kinda miss them.”