I drop my phone on the couch, walk across the living room, into the front hall, and slowly open my front door. He’s standing there in the same outfit as this morning but wearing a look I’ve never seen on him before. It’s heavy and heated and I can feel my toes curling in my socks just from that alone.
And then he steps into the house and right up to me. His left arm wraps around my waist, his palm flat, fingers spread wide across the small of my back. The palm of his right-hand glides over my cheek and jaw and then his fingers rack through my hair as they curl around the nape of my neck. I tip my head back and our lips glance off each other softly, sending a current down my spine.
My eyes flutter closed as our mouths connect, fully this time. The kiss is tender and yet primal. We’re exploring each other’s mouths with the unbridled enthusiasm of teenagers but also the rhythm of two very knowing adults with passions and needs that are asked for and met with the sweep of tongues, the press of lips, the nip of teeth. Logan is a demanding kisser. He’s not gentle or shy. It’s clear he wants something and that something is me. The ferocity of his confidence has turned my logical, reserved soul into smoke. Like totally just blown it all to hell—and I amnotcomplaining.
When the kiss breaks, he takes half a step back. I feel like the world could end and I’d never even notice. I’m floating somewhere above it anyway.
“I have that family thing,” he says huskily. “I’m going to be late.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, because I just know Ishouldbe. But I’d keep kissing him all day and night if he’d let me.
“I’m not.” His lips find mine again in a shorter, somehow even more passionate kiss. “I’ll text you later. If that’s okay. And thank you for brunch. It was incredible.”
“It really was,” I whisper to myself as he strides across the porch and disappears down the stairs.
I close the door, and as his car engine starts in the driveway, I fall back onto my couch and finally uncurl my toes.
11
Logan
Restraint wassomething I needed in my life. It went hand-in-hand with structure. Stay calm, be focused, go to work, do a good job, see my son, be a good dad, go home and stay sober. That was my whole life, intentionally. And then Chloe happened.
One meal with her and my simple, straight-forward, purposefully restrained life went out the damn window. It happened before I could even stop it, when our eyes locked on that couch I was suddenly obsessed with the idea of finding out what her lips would feel like against mine. When Manuel pulled me away, I had a flash of anger, which is insane. And while he was touring my apartment, praising me for the child safety latches and the smoke alarms and the anti-slip bath mat, I was almost twitching with the craving, the need to claim her mouth. It was like how I used to twitch as a teen when my mom would wander the house looking for her sunglasses or wallet before she left for work, prolonging my inevitable raiding of the liquor cabinet.
And when I got that kiss, it did not disappoint. The first taste of her mouth was sweeter than any liquor I’ve ever consumed. The more we kissed, the deeper it got, the calmer I grew inside, just like how alcohol made me feel. And that was scary as fuck.
That’s why I accidentally missed two turns on my way to the restaurant and made myself even later than I already was for this stupid family meeting. When I finally get there the lot is almost full so I spend another couple of precious minutes finding a spot on a nearby side street. Because I don’t want to take up one of the last spots in the lot if there’s a paying customer that might want it. I open the back of the SUV and hook Chewie to a leash before he jumps down. He’s still not a fan of the leash and tries to bite it as we walk. “No lollygagging kid, we’re late.”
I make it to the side entrance, nodding at a man and a woman, both in suits with brief cases standing by a fancy Audi in the parking lot. Not our normal clientele but okay.
Around the corner of the shack I put my hand on the door that leads into the breakroom, unhook Chewie from the lead, and take a deep breath. My head is a mess right now and I know this meeting isn’t going to help anything. Here goes nothing.
“Well, well, well,” Dad says as I step inside, Chewie pushing past me to dart around the room excitedly. “Nice of you to join us, princess.”
“I told you he wouldn’t bail,” Finn says but the look of relief on his face is evident. He thought I had.
“You’re late,” Declan snaps, with a scowl twisting his angular features. He tugs on the jacket of his suit, which fits like a glove. Declan was born to a rich family who lives in a penthouse in New York City and summers in the Hamptons. They accidentally popped him out passing through town on the day our mom was giving birth and some absentminded nurse mixed the babies up. It’s a stupid theory Finn and I concocted when we were eleven but I swear to God it should be reality. He doesn’t fit here – in Ocean Pines, or with any of us.
“I know. I’m sorry,” I say, trying not to clench my jaw. I am in the wrong here. “Social worker did a surprise inspection of my place. I’m trying not to jinx it but I think he’s giving me overnights with River, finally.”
My mom, sitting at the long wood table in the middle of the room, clasps the cross that is always around her neck. We all started boycotting church in our teens, even Dad, so if it wasn’t for Nova, Mom would be going on her own every Sunday. “Oh Logan! That’s wonderful! I was praying about it today at church and God heard me. I’m so happy!”
I ignore her God stuff as does everyone else in the family except Nova who is sitting beside her and pats her shoulder. “Finally!” Nova exclaims. “I’m so happy for you, Logan.”
“We all are,” Finn adds. “River is going to love whole weekends with you.”
Declan is still glaring at me, despite the good news. “I’ll be back. I have to get something for this meeting now that it can finally begin.”
He pivots on his expensive shoes and heads out the door that I just came in. Finn groans and Terra rolls her eyes. “He couldn’t have gotten whatever the hell it was while we were waiting for you?” Finn growls.
Ma sends a chastising stare his way. “Language.”
“I was holding back, Ma,” Finn replies. “You don’t wanna know what I was really thinking.”
Terra gets up from her seat next to Nova at the table as Dad paces. He hates these business meetings. All he cares about is being on his boat. He lumbers his tall, square body over to the fridge and starts rummaging around inside. Terra slides up next to me at the counter. “I thought maybe you got lucky on your date and that’s why you weren’t here on time. I’d defend you for skipping if it was because you were ending a five year drought.”
I have to bite back a smile at that because it makes me think of kissing Chloe. Not quite the big drought my sister is referring to but it did make me realize how starved I really am for a woman. I try to scowl. “My date and my sex life are none of your business, sis.”
