I shook my head.
“Stop.”
“What?”
“Looking at me like that.”
“How am I looking at you?” he asked, a smile curling his lips.
“As if I’m your entire world.”
“You’re quickly becoming exactly that.”
My heart fluttered. “Logan,” I whispered. “It’s too fast.”
“I’m just putting it out there. I’m not a player. I’m a one-woman guy. And you are my one woman.” He paused, a small vee forming between his eyes. “If you want to be.”
There was no hesitation. The way he treated me, how he made me feel—as if I mattered. It was the first time in years I felt as if I mattered to someone. I felt safe, protected, and cherished.
“Yes, I want to be your ‘one-woman.’”
“Good. Then we’re on the same page.” He tucked me closer. “Go to sleep. I’m right here.”
I snuggled close and, without another word or thought, drifted to sleep, his words comforting and perfect.
He was here.Chapter 13LottieI woke to Logan’s lips on my forehead, his voice low in my ear. “I have to go, baby. I can’t be late, and I need to shower and change.” He dropped another kiss to my forehead. “I hope today is better for you.”
He started to back up toward the door, and I sat up, the blankets falling off my chest. He groaned. “Don’t tempt me, Lottie.”
I rolled my eyes and tucked the blanket under my arms. “I forgot, I have a business event tomorrow that Carmen is hosting. He extended the invitation to the team and told me to feel free to bring a plus-one. Would you like to go with me?”
“That won’t cause you a problem?”
“It’s a casual event. Drinks, music, schmoozing is what Carmen told me. A chance to see what they’re about and meet them. I think you’d enjoy it.”
“Your father?” The words hung in the air.
I knew what he was saying, but I refused to be worried. I wasn’t ashamed of Logan, and I wanted him to know that.
“I can’t see him even thinking about going to something like that. He likes the formal dinners, not a plate of finger food and loud music. I only have two members on this team, and I’m not even sure they’ll go. I would love to have you with me.”
“And it’s casual?”
My lips quirked. “Maybe clean jeans and an un-holey shirt, but yes.”
He winked. “I can do that. I would love to go with you.”
“I’ll probably work late tonight. Don’t wait, Logan. Please. Be here tomorrow at seven.”
He lifted a shoulder and walked out the door.
“Can’t promise that,” he called. “We’ll see.”
Somehow, I knew I would be seeing him later.He was there, a smile on his face, his guitar in hand. But this time, he sat beside me on the bench and crooned just for me. We shared a piece of cake at the diner, and he walked me home, refusing to come upstairs.
“I have no self-control when it comes to you,” he confessed. “If I come upstairs, I can’t leave you.” He kissed my forehead, his warm lips lingering. “Don’t ask, baby. I can’t say no.”
“But you’ll be here tomorrow?”
“Seven on the dot. Clean, un-holey shirt on. Promise.”
I rolled to the tip of my toes and kissed him. “Okay.”
He watched me walk in and waited until he saw my light go on. I waved from my window, and he strode away, his long legs eating up the distance quickly. He texted when he got home and sent a voice mail. It was of him singing a lullaby, and I listened to it when I went to bed, the sound of his rich voice soothing me into sleep.
The next night, he buzzed at seven promptly, and I let him up, opening the door and waiting impatiently for him to arrive. My breath caught in my throat as he pulled off his jacket.
“Will this do?”
His shaggy hair was around his collar, pushed back from his face. He wore a dark blue Henley stretched tight across his chest and arms and a black leather vest overtop. He had on thick khaki pants and heavy Doc Martens on his feet. His beard was trimmed, and his eyes danced with mischief. With the various leather and braided silver cuffs on his wrist and knotted Celtic rings on his hands, he looked every inch the bad boy. A seriously sexy bad boy.
I tried not to whimper. I think I failed.
“You’re coming home with me tonight,” I informed him.
He grinned and indicated my outfit. “Damn right, I am.”
I glanced down. I wore tight black pants tucked into ankle boots and a long glittery, silver tunic. It was pretty, yet not over the top. I wore my hair up in a long ponytail and had slipped in some delicate, dangling silver earrings that brushed my shoulders. I had added eyeliner and red lipstick.
“You are smoking hot,” Logan growled. “I love the lips.” He stepped closer. “I want those lips.”