"What do you know about taekwondo?" Logan asked.

Kate looked up from the cookie dough, her hands still on the rolling pin. Her dark hair was pulled back in its signature ponytail, and she had managed to dip the end in flour. The white tuft was smearing powder all over her red jumper.

"Taekwondo?" she repeated.

"Yup."

"Like the martial arts sport?"

"That's the one."

"Why?" She went back to rolling. "Are you thinking of taking it up?"

Logan was, actually. Primarily to defend himself against Victor Thornton, who was clearly out for blood. He swiped a piece of raw gingerbread, intending to nibble on it, and Kate swatted it out of his hand.

"Are you mad?" she demanded. "Do you want salmonella?"

"It's just cookie dough."

"That stuff can kill you."

Logan sighed theatrically. "Yeah, well, my reputation is already pretty dead. Sleeping six foot under in a grave, with only worms for bed-fellows."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, John Donne."

"I'm not being dramatic," Logan shot back. "I'm being realistic. Did you see the competition?"

Kate smirked. "Your unending televised trainwreck, you mean?" She rolled out some more of the dough. "Yup. Everyone did."

Logan groaned. "Brilliant."

"You did terribly."

"Thanks."

"Seriously." Kate pointed the rolling pin at him. "You should really get an award: Worst Contestant Ever."

"Oh, shut-up," Logan muttered, but he was smiling.

Kate winked, turning  back to the dough. There was something so refreshing about her, Logan  realized with surprise. You always knew where you stood with Kate. Sure,  she might take the piss out of you, but she always did it to your face.

And she never looked at him with sympathy. Or pity.

Not like Chloe did.

God, that had driven Logan mental; he had no idea how Jack put up with it. Admittedly, Logan had also acted like a bit of a dick to her. Okay, a major dick. He definitely owed her an apology. Which was why — he consulted his watch — he was seeing her in exactly two hours for coffee.

Kate blew a piece of hair out of her face. "Pass me the flour, would you?"

Logan did so.

"And you can start cutting out shapes."

Logan obeyed her, reaching for a santa-shaped cookie cutter. Kate paused her rolling, arching an eyebrow.

"You know this is for a gala raising money for endangered caribou, right?"

Logan switched to a reindeer-shaped cutter.

"Better," Kate said, nodding approvingly.

Logan went to work, dutifully cutting out cookies. He was relieved to be doing something productive, actually. It took his mind off — as Kate had so poignantly referred to it — his unending televised trainwreck.

He peeked sideways at her.

She was humming under her breath, punching out cookies twice as fast. God, she was efficient. It wasn't a particularly sexy word, but Kate made it sexy. She made everything sexy, actually. Including that hideous checkered apron.

"Logan?"

"Hmm?"

"You're staring."

"Right." Logan turned back to the cookie dough. "Sorry."

She smirked. "Can I ask why you were staring?"

Logan's mouth went dry. He could feel his heartbeat picking up, and the cookie cutter suddenly felt slick in his hands. God, what was wrong with him? Logan was used to his body having — er — certain reactions around good-looking women, but this was different.

He felt nervous. Unsettled, even.

Hang on. Did he fancy Kate?

No. Surely not. Logan knew she was beautiful, obviously; he wasn't walking around with a blindfold over his eyes. But he hadn't fancied anyone in ages.

Maybe ever, actually.

"You have flour," Logan said hoarsely. "In your hair."

"Oh!" Kate twisted around, examining her ponytail sheepishly. "Yikes. Thanks." She smiled at him. "You're a good friend, Logan."

Logan swallowed.

A good friend. He'd always wanted a good female friend, hadn't he? And now, Logan finally had one. Kate.

So why did it feel so shit?

Logan met Chloe at a café in West Kensington.

She was dressed in a fuzzy white jumper, her dark hair pulled up into a top knot. Her fingernails were bitten to the quick. She jumped up from her chair as he approached, her small face contorted with worry.

Logan took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," they blurted.

Chloe relaxed slightly, smiling. "You are?"

"Yes."

"Oh, thank god." She collapsed back into her seat. "I was freaking out last night. I thought you'd never speak to me again."

"Hang on." Logan frowned, taking the opposite seat. "Why are you sorry?"

She fiddled with a menu, pinching the paper corner. "I shouldn't have hounded you like that after the show. Not after you said you needed space."

"Chloe—"

"No, wait!" Chloe held up a hand. "Let me finish. You were right yesterday, Jack; I'm kind of a mess." She looked at him earnestly. "I'm always tripping over myself. I text you at weird hours. And I usually get way too pissed at events." She paused. "And most of the time, I take it for granted that you're always there for me. No matter what."

Shit. Now Logan really felt like a dick.

"I don't mind," he said gruffly.

Jack probably didn't, after all.

"That's not the point," Chloe told him. "The point is that I know I'm a lot. And if you ever need space from me—"

"I don't."

"You don't?"

"No," Logan said firmly. "I don't. Anyways, I acted like a complete arsehole yesterday. It's hardly your fault."

That, at least, was true.

Chloe deflated slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, you did."

"Draw a line under it?"

Chloe grinned. "Obviously, you idiot. That's what we do." She stood, ruffling his hair. "I'm getting a hot chocolate. You want anything?"

He glanced wistfully towards the peanut butter cookies. Stupid Jack and his stupid nut allergy. If Logan wasn't pretending to be his brother right now, he could easily eat three of those. Just in one sitting.

"A latte, please," he muttered.

"Noted."

Chloe made her way towards the cash register, bumping into several tables. Tea sloshed on to one woman's lap. Logan winced in sympathy. Ouch.

He was momentarily distracted by a middle-aged man shoveling chocolate cake into his mouth near the window, his eyes glued to a newspaper. Christ, that was a lot of cake. Slow down, sir. Small bites only.

Chloe materialized with their drinks.

"They ran out of skim milk," she said. "And I know you're allergic to nut milk, so I just got yours without any—"

There was a terrible choking sound.

Logan whipped around just in time to see newspaper man collapse. His face was the color of bruised plums, and he was clawing at his throat, his eyes bulging. Shit. He was choking, wasn't he? A woman fell to her knees next to him.

"Medic!" she shrieked. "Is there a medic here?"

Chloe hopped to her feet. "Yes!"

Logan blinked. Hang on, where? He swiveled around, searching for the telltale badge or a flash of a stethoscope. Chloe gripped his shoulder.

"Jack?" she prompted.

Logan froze. Oh, shit.

He was the medic, wasn't he?

"Oh, no," Logan said quickly. "No, that's not a good idea." He rose unsteadily to his feet. "I only have the one year of training; I'm hardly qualified."

He wasn't qualified at all, actually. The closest Logan had come to studying medicine was bingeing the first season of Grey's Anatomy, and that was only because he fancied Izzie Stevens. Chloe scowled at him.

"He needs you," she hissed.

"I can't help him!"

"Well, you can try, at least!"

Logan glanced around desperately. Surely there was someone more qualified than him. A lifeguard, maybe? Or a nurse? But all of the other patrons were staring at him, his own horror reflected in their eyes.

"Go!" Chloe gave him a little shove. "Just try your best."

Logan gulped.

He approached the man, who was no longer making audible noises. Logan was unsure whether this was good or bad. Probably bad.

He ran through his Grey's Anatomy knowledge feverishly. What did they do when someone was choking? Was this a scalpel situation?

Dear god, he hoped not. Logan didn't have a scalpel. And he didn't really think the café's plastic knives were going to cut it.

No pun intended.

"What are you doing?" the woman hissed. "Give him the Heimlich!"

Oh, right. That rang a bell.

Logan hauled the man to his feet. Then he wrapped his arms around his waist, pushing upwards in a J motion. He gritted his teeth. God, this man was heavy. What did he eat for lunch? A sac of bowling balls?

"Jack!" Chloe shrieked.

She sounded frightened. Logan froze. Ah, shit; the man's eyes were fluttering closed. He was clearly losing consciousness.

"Call 999," he told her hoarsely.

Chloe whipped out her phone.

Logan felt the weight of dozens of eyes on him. He was sweating through his Ted Baker blazer, and his heart was rocketing. Oh, hell. What was he meant to do?

Screw this.

He was going rogue.

Logan stumbled over to a table, half-dragging the man with him. He sized up a chair with particularly sharp corners. Then he grunted, unceremoniously dropping the man on to it. The crowd gasped.

"Is he allowed to do that?" one woman whispered.

Logan gritted his teeth. Then he did it again. Someone wailed.

"He's killing him!"

Sweat clung to his temples. Logan mopped it away, growling under his breath. Stupid man and his stupid cake. Logan was not about to let this stranger ruin chocolate for him. He wanted to enjoy his god damn fudge cake for life.

Logan took a deep breath. "Come on, you stupid bugger," he growled. "Breathe."

He hurled the stranger on to the chair.

The man made a gagging noise, expelling liquid chocolate cake all over the table. There was a terrible, stunned silence. Then the café broke into applause.

"Well done, darling!"

"A real hero!"

"Bravo, sir!"

Logan set the man safely down on a chair, his head spinning. Chloe rushed over to him. Her small face was glowing, and she grabbed his arm, squeezing it.

"You did it, Jack!" she squealed. "You were amazing."

"Thanks."

"The paramedics are on their way."

"Good," Logan muttered dazedly. "That's good."

Chloe gave him an odd look. "You feeling okay?"

"Spiffing."

Logan walked calmly out of the café. Then he paused at the nearest bin, gripped the sides of it, and proceeded to chunder up his lunch. Chloe massaged his back soothingly.

"You know what?" she said brightly. "It's probably for the best that you transferred to biology. Medicine isn't for you, I think."