Leo laughs and grabs my arm in both of his sweaty palms. “Mom, Logan said we could go campingtomorrow. He wants to take me to Shadow Lake. Can I go? Please?”
“Tomorrow?” I glance at Logan, surprised. “You can get the time off from the gym?”
“I've cleared my schedule while the bank does something with the paperwork. It won’t be a problem for a couple of days.” He watches me closely, those dark eyes tracing every line of tension on my face. “I’ll take good care of him, babe.”
“I know you will.” I give him a quick smile, so he knows my hesitancy isn’t about his parenting skills. We often went camping together when Logan was on leave, but other than a trip to the Flower & Garden Festival in Boise and a hospital stay when I got my appendix out, I’ve never spent a night away from Leo. “But just for a couple of days, okay? I'll need you both back to help me before the weekend rush.”
“Of course.” Logan squeezes my shoulder, while Leo does a happy dance in front of us. “Thanks, Mom. You're the best!”
“Stating the obvious there, kid,” Logan grins, then looks over my head. “Who was that swanky guy you were talking to? I could smell the city polish from the bottom of the drive.”
I swing around but Tristan Berkeley and his perfect smile are nowhere to be seen. “No one,” I reply, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice. “Just... a guy wanting to take some pretty pictures.”
Logan grins and pulls me into his arms, his nose nudging my temple before sliding down to my cheek. “Then I guess he must have taken a whole bunch of you.”
“Ugh!” Leo moans from behind me. “Get a room, will you? Or better still, a tent. Only kidding, Mom. No girls allowed on our camping trip. Right, Logan?”
My son shoots me an unapologetic grin as he scampers away, and I mock-growl after him, “I'll remind you of that rule when you turn sixteen, buddy!”
Logan laughs but then pulls back to study my face. “Are you okay? You look kind of flushed.”
A sliver of guilt worms through my heart, but I push it aside. While I enjoyed the little flirtation with Tristan, he was clearly only here for business. “It’s summer, my brain is frying, and we need new shade cloth.”
Logan frowns up at the worn canvas strung between the trees. “I can pick you up some from the hardware store, if you like.”
“That would be great.”
He nods, his arm slipping around my waist as we head towards the store. The retirees are still climbing out of their minibus, so I figure we’ve got a few minutes before they’ll make their way over to us. “Want a glass of Marion’s berry cordial?”
Our farm manager, who’s currently coddling the delicate seedlings in our greenhouse, is also our berry-growing expert. Aficionados come from miles away for her sweet cordials and tangy syrups. “Do you have that huckleberry and passionflower one?”
Logan sounds almost as excited as Leo talking about his camping trip, and my heart squeezes with affection. “Freshly made,” I promise as we head into the store and I step behind the counter, pulling a chilled bottle of cordial from the refrigerator. I’m reaching for one of the tasting cups when Logan’s hands slide over my hips. Despite the cold glass in my hand, heat prickles over my skin as he nuzzles the back of my neck. “Do you think those walkers are fast enough to catch us in the act?”
“What act would that be?” My voice is low and husky as I press back against his hard body. In the confines of the store, the scent of leather and Logan’s amber musk swirls around me, making my belly clench. “Sipping cordial and chatting about the weather?”
“Hot, with a heatwave on the horizon,” he mumbles into my scent gland, drawing a moan to my lips. He’s right –the temperature is rising and I’m about to combust…“Damn…” Heslowly pulls back and hooks a finger through my belt, tugging me around to face him. “Can we put a pin in that until tonight?”
I smirk at him. “Consider myself pinned.”
“Good girl.” He gives me another of those lazy, toe-curling smiles. “But do you want me to hang around and cover the store so you can take a break?”
I can’t resist pulling him down for a kiss, which dances across my tongue, sweeter than any cordial. “My hero.”
He deepens the kiss, then tucks a curl back into my bandana, his eyes locked on mine. “Like I said last night, I'm here for whatever you need.”
“More kisses, then,” I murmur, and he delivers as promised, only breaking apart when we hear the first walker thump against the porch steps. I groan, but it’s hard to keep the smile off my face as he props himself beside me, our shoulders brushing.
Who needs fae creatures or handsome photographers when Logan Sawyer is here to save the day?
CHAPTER THREE – TRISTAN
“Otley James!” I thunder as I throw open the door to my alpha’s latest property acquisition. It’s a Queen Anne mansion on the edge of Willow Lake, and has all the turrets, spindles, and fish scale shingles you can pack into one oversized house. It’s beautiful in a tortured gothic way, but it’s about as far from Otley’s taste as you can get, which is why this move smelled fishy from the start. “You’re a dead man,” I huff as I pound up the sweeping staircase. “D.E.A.D. as a week-old flounder!”
“Excuse me?” Otley appears at the top of the stairs, a silky brow arched in inquiry. He’s wearing a three-piece suit, like always, and even if I wasn’t a couple of steps below him, his six-foot-three frame would still tower over me. At first glance, he’s just another elegant, wealthy businessman with his wire-rimmed glasses and thousand-dollar oxfords, but it doesn’t take a photographer’s eye to see the dominant alpha swimming below the surface.
Like a shark.
A sneaky, no-good, secret-keeping shark!
