Moonlight on Nightingale Way (On Dublin Street 6)

Damn it.

The hug didn’t last nearly long enough. He pulled back but not to step away. Instead he cupped my face in his hands like he had done Maia, and his thumbs swiped at the tear tracks on my cheeks. I felt a little lost looking up into his beautiful eyes. “There’s no way for me to thank you properly,” he said, his voice gruff.

“You don’t have to thank me,” I whispered, struggling to find the strength to speak up over the reaction my body was having to his nearness.

I was tingling.

All over.

In places Logan really shouldn’t be making me tingle.

Those tingles turned to full-on shivers as he lowered his hands, his thumbs whispering a trail down my neck and along my collarbone. He let go, only to settle his hands on my waist.

My lips parted in surprise, drawing his gaze.

I couldn’t breathe.

A vibrating noise shattered the intensity of the moment, and I frowned in confusion.

Logan stepped back, no longer meeting my eyes. “My phone,” he muttered, digging into his jeans pocket for it.

More than a little discombobulated by what had or had not just happened, I started backing out of the room. “I’ll just, uh… go see how Maia is getting on.”

Shaking my head, I hurried out of the flat.

What the hell had that been?

He wasn’t all flirty, so it couldn’t have been sexual. In fact, I knew for certain it wasn’t sexual, because he wasn’t attracted to me. I shook my head again and charged into my flat, suddenly annoyed.

I wish the man wouldn’t be so bloody affectionate with me!

That was it. I’d been right a week ago at the restaurant when he’d flirted with the waitress. Sure, as soon as Maia went into a huff with him over it, he stopped it, but it still reminded me of a very important fact.

I was not Logan MacLeod’s type. I never would be.

And, frankly, in any other dimension he wouldn’t be my type. I’d been thrown at him in circumstances beyond my control.

Well, no more!

I needed to create distance from him without creating distance with Maia. I could do it.

I had to do it.

Shoving the moment out of my head, I moved into the doorway of my guest room to see Maia packing her clothes into the suitcase I’d left out for her. “Nearly ready?”

She looked up and gave me a tremulous smile.

“Sweetie, are you all right?”

She shrugged, and then she was crying again. “I’m going to miss you.”

I walked into the room and drew her into my arms. “I am not going anywhere. I will be right next door, and you can come see me anytime you want.”

I let her cry for a little while longer, and finally she pulled away to start packing again. “I’m a wee bit nervous,” she admitted.

“That’s perfectly natural. But you and Logan are going to have an amazing time making up for lost years.” I gave her a teasing smile. “Still, try to take it easy on him.”

Maia giggled and nodded. She gave me one last hug, and I walked her to the door. Logan was waiting in his doorway, and he came over to take the suitcase from her.

It was only a few steps, but it felt like miles as I watched him lead her across the landing. She gave me a watery smile and disappeared.

Logan nodded at me, and I gave him a little wave before shutting my door.

Sliding down the door, I landed with a little bump on my bottom as I stared despondently down my hall.

My despondency did not last. I didn’t have time for it because any concerns I had about not seeing Maia (and yes, maybe Logan too) were put to rest when it became perfectly apparent than neither she nor her father had any intention of forgetting about me.

Two weeks later I was standing in my kitchen. The first week in May had passed us by, and I found myself doing something familiar.

Eating dinner with Maia and Logan.

Somehow we’d fallen into this pattern together. After school Maia usually spent time at either Leigh’s or Layla’s house for an hour before coming home to me. She’d do her homework and I would help if I could, while I got dinner started in time for Logan to finish work. If I was too busy with my own work to cook, I ordered takeout for us all.

“Layla said what?” I shook my head, thinking I’d heard wrong.

“Layla said that she thinks our history teacher, Mr. Tatum, is having an affair with the music teacher, Mrs. Rogers.”

I shared a worried look with Logan.

We were sitting around my kitchen counter eating Chinese takeout. “And did Layla witness something that made her think this?”

“Yup. She said Mrs. Rogers fiddles with her wedding ring every time she’s talking to Mr. Tatum.”

“How bored must this girl be to notice that shit?” Logan looked as flummoxed as me.

“I think the more important point here is that Layla should not be spreading rumors based on a woman fiddling with her wedding ring.”

Maia shrugged. “I didn’t say it.”

“Well, maybe you should get Layla to stop saying it.”

Maia bugged out her eyes at me. “It’s Layla. Only the British Army and a Challenger 2 tank could get her to stop talking.”

Logan choked on the bite of food he had just taken.

I took a sip of water to hide my smile. When I felt composed, I faced her again. “Maia, spreading rumors is wrong.”

“I know. I won’t do it,” she promised.

“Pass the prawn crackers.” Logan gestured to me, and I slid them over the counter to him. “I found out who was stealing at work,” he said as he piled rice and chicken onto a cracker.

“Oh?” Money had been going missing from the bar take on and off for the last week or so. It was driving Logan crazy, and I knew it was partly to do with his inner sense of responsibility and the fact that he had a criminal record and money was missing from his place of employment. Braden had gone out on a limb for him by giving him the managerial position at Fire, and I knew Logan didn’t want to let him down.