Doubt crosses Logan’s face, but before he can object, I push up on my toes, pressing my lips into his. His arm immediately wraps around my waist, anchoring me to his chest. Our kiss is a slow, languid dance, as our lips explore each other's warmth and softness.
Logan draws back slowly, releasing me.
“Wait here. I will order pizza,” he says, dropping a quick kiss on my head before turning and walking off to what I presume is the kitchen. I hear him on the phone. Then a moment later, he strolls back in with two beers, and a t-shirt on.
Damn it.
“Thanks.” I grab a beer from him when he holds it out to me.
We take a seat on the sofa, him on one end, me on the other. I tuck my feet up under me and face him, resting my shoulder along the back of the sofa.
“Any new leads?”
Logan takes a deep sip of his beer. “No. The only prints on the note were yours.”
“He’ll slip up soon, right? They all do?”
“I hope so. I hate that someone’s out there targeting you like this. It’s unusual we haven’t gotten any leads yet.”
I hum my agreement, my stomach sinking. The cops haven't been able to get anything on this guy. The pack hasn’t either. No scent or trail, nothing.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Logan’s voice is gentle, almost apologetic.
My pulse kicks up and a sick feeling takes up residence in my stomach. Before I look at him, I school my expression. I know what he’s going to ask. I’ve prepared myself for it.
“Yes?”
“Two years ago, an officer was killed on Kai’s property. What happened?”
I look down at the beer in my hands. “We had a bit of a family issue. Someone called the cops, and when they arrived, a pack of wolves came out from the woods.” My fingers tear the label off the beer bottle as I speak. “Kai tried to get the officers back in the car, but it all happened so fast. One wolf attacked Charlie. I know those wolves, so I was shocked when it happened.”
I take a stuttering breath and look up at Logan. Now is my chance to tell him about me.
“There was a white wolf outside your bar the morning I was leaving your bar. It seemed friendly, protective.”
I bob my head up and down, pressing my lips together.
“She is.”
“So it really was just an animal attack?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
Logan has a frown on his face, his mind working over what I said. Movement behind him catches my attention. A shadow moves across the front window, and I draw in a breath, my heart slamming against my rib cage.
Logan follows my gaze, and his brows lower. “What is it?”
“Nothing, I just thought I saw something?” I get up, walk toward the window, and peer out. But I see nobody.
Logan pulls me away from the curtains. “You thought, or you did?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe the pizza’s here.”
Logan moves to the front door, opening it and stepping outside onto the porch. I follow behind, anxiety eclipsing my thoughts. Logan and I look around, but no one’s there. He looks back at me just as headlights turn down the street. Now the pizza’s here.
We wait for the teenager to get out of the car and grab our food before heading inside. We eat in relatively comfortable silence, talking about our favorite shows, music and food.
I stand, taking the plates to the kitchen with Logan, placing the rest of the pizza in the fridge.
