***
The table’s a graveyard of syrup-sticky plates and coffee cups by the time everyone’s full. The kids have vanished into the sunroom, and the rest of us move lazily between the kitchen and dining room, picking up the wreckage of brunch.
I duck out into the hallway, making my way to the bathroom for a breather.
It’s tiled and bright, smelling of lemon cleaner and Tamara’s lavender hand soap. I grip the sink, take a breath, and try to will the blush off my cheeks.
The door creaks open behind me.
“Occupied,” I hiss.
“Didn’t look occupied.” Logan slips in, closing it with a quiet click. His reflection meets mine in the mirror—rumpled hair, guilty smirk, eyes still dark from every almost-touch we’ve had all morning.
“You’re out of your mind,” I whisper, turning to face him.
“Probably.” He takes another step. “But you bailed and left me out there with your brother andkiss love.”
“Self-preservation.” I glance toward the bathroom door. “Your near-death experience didn’t need a sequel.”
He steps close enough that my back brushes the edge of the counter. “You handled him better than I did.”
“I’m his sister. It’s a sport.”
Logan’s mouth twitches. “You mean what you said about thefireworks?”
I try not to smile, but fail miserably. “Maybe.”
His hand finds my hip, and he dips his head, mouth hovering a breath from mine.
“Logan,” I whisper again, but it’s not a warning this time.
“Just one,” he murmurs. “Then I’ll go back out there and let your brother finish plotting my death.”
I don’t even get a chance to answer before he kisses me. Slow at first, then his other hand slides up my spine, pressing me flush to him until I feel the solid line of his body.
The kiss deepens, all breath and hunger and muffled sounds that would get us both killed if anyone walked in. I grab his shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric, and pull him harder against me. He tastes like coffee and sugar and the kind of trouble I’ll never stop craving.
A floorboard creaks outside.
We break apart, breathless and hearts pounding.
“Lu? You in there?”
Logan’s eyes go wide at Eli’s voice. “Shit.”
“Occupied!” I call, a little too high-pitched.
There’s a pause. “You okay?”
“Fine! Great! Just—uh—soap emergency.”
“Soapemergency?”
“Yeah! It’s... frothing.”
Logan looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, and I gesture silently to him that I panicked.
Eli’s voice interrupts our interaction. “Can I come in? Just wanna talk for a sec.”
