When she pulls back, her bright blue eyes are beaming. “Thank you, Miss Heather.”
“You're welcome, honey.” I smooth her blonde hair back from her face, and warmth collects in my chest. This little girlhas wormed her way into my heart just as thoroughly as her uncle has.
Logan’s stare is still on me, and when our eyes meet, he mouths “thank you.” The gratitude in his expression is clear, but there's something else there, too. Something that makes my pulse quicken.
“But,” I add, “Cookie needs her special blanket and her bedtime treats. So after dinner, we'll have to run next door and get her overnight bag.”
“Cookie has an overnight bag?” Logan asks, one eyebrow raised in amusement.
“Of course, she does.” I lift my chin defensively. “She's a very sophisticated dog.”
“Right.” His lips twitch at the corners. “Sophisticated. That's the word I'd use for the dog who stole hot dogs from strangers at a baseball game.”
“That was a momentary lapse in judgment,” I argue, but I'm fighting back a smile. “Everyone makes mistakes.”
“Uh huh.” Logan takes another bite of steak, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “So what else is in this overnight bag? Silk pajamas? Moisturizer? A sleep mask?”
“Mock all you want, Maddox. But Cookie has standards.”
Violet giggles, her gaze ping-ponging between us like she's watching a tennis match. “You guys are funny.”
“Your Aunt Heather is silly,” Logan says, and my heart does a little flip at the casual way he says it.Aunt Heather.Like I'm already part of this little family.
The thought should terrify me. Instead, it turns me into an absolute puddle.
We finish dinner in comfortable conversation, and Logan and I clear the plates while Violet and Cookie play in the backyard. The sun is setting now, and the string lights Loganhung across the patio cast everything in a soft, golden glow. It's oddly peaceful and romantic all at once.
“That went well,” Logan says quietly as we stand at the sink together. He's washing and I'm drying, falling into an easy rhythm that feels far too natural.
“The dinner or the sleepover request?”
“Both.” He hands me a plate, his fingers brushing mine. “Thank you for saying yes. I know it's a big deal.”
“It's just one night,” I say, but we both know I'm downplaying it. And we both know it’s only the first of many.
“Still.” He turns to face me fully, leaning his hip against the counter. “Violet hasn't asked for much since... well, since everything happened. But she asked for this, and I hated saying no.”
I set down the dish towel and meet his eyes. “She's a special kid, Logan. You're doing an amazing job with her. I know it couldn’t have been easy taking on this role.”
“I'm trying.” He runs a hand through his hair, leaving it even more disheveled. “Some days I feel like I'm just making it up as I go.”
“That's called parenting,” I say softly. “And from what I can see, you're nailing it.”
He steps closer, and suddenly we're right back where we were on the patio—inches apart, the air between us crackling with tension. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone.
“Heather,” he murmurs, and the rugged, sensual way he says my name makes my knees weak.
“Yeah?”
“I really want to kiss you right now.”
My breath catches. “Then why don't you?”
“Because if I start, I'm not sure I'll be able to stop.” His voice has gone low and rough, and it does things to me that should be illegal.
“Maybe that's not such a bad thing,” I whisper.
His eyes darken, and he leans in, his lips just barely brushing mine.
