Logan had dined at countless places, which invariably came with perfectly trained waitstaff ready to indulge his every whim.
But there was something intriguing about this simple place where one could order without a menu and talk directly to the owner.
It also said something about the woman who frequented this place.
Alessia, usually guarded in his presence, was much more talkative and friendly here.
Logan wondered if she herself was aware of this change.
Alessia returned, bearing a tray, a pitcher and two glasses. ‘I hope you like mango lassi. They don’t serve wine here.’
She poured the creamy drink for Logan and realised he was staring at her. ‘What?’
‘Does your face still hurt?’
Alessia gently touched her cheeks.
A wince of pain escaped her lips as she repli
