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No more dating flight risks. No more dating with the town watching.
Two simple rules to remember. Surely, even a man with a history of making horrible decisions regarding women could do that.
He stopped in front of the old fence that kept Harry Styles, his rescue alpaca, safely out of the driveway. Or attempted to. He was always finding the shaggy animal everywhere he shouldn’t be, including with his head halfway in the kitchen window munching on the screen.
He gave the old boy a good scratch on his head, Harry giving him a flick of his ears in thanks. His grandmother had let the small group of girl scouts, that had dropped by with her cookie order one day, name him, but Logan had to admit, it suited him. There was something very confident about this alpaca, something that said he could sell out stadiums to thousands of screaming fans, too, if he wanted. He’d just rather be here, munching grass instead.
Logan scratched him a bit longer, letting his old memories drift away before heading to Jeanie’s. It was a cool night even though it was only early October, and the wind rustled the dry leaves across the fields. The moon was full and bright overhead, with a stray cloud casting a shadow across it every now and then.
As good a night as any for a ghost hunt, he supposed.
He bid Harry goodbye and hopped in his truck. Might as well get this whole absurd night over with, he told himself, even as his stomach flipped with a new emotion he refused to identify as excitement to see Jeanie.