Page 61 of Logan’s Acadian Wolves

“I see you’ve met Mojo,” Logan acknowledged.

“Hmm? You have a cat?” Wynter replied in surprise, trying to hide her amusement.

“Here kitty, kitty. Come to Daddy,” Logan sang in his best baby voice. The small black ball of fur ran toward him, purring voraciously, and he scooped the kitten into his arms, placing kisses on her head. He continued to talk in a soft voice, pretending to talk to the cat while really answering Wynter. “Yes, I have a kitty. And she’s such a good girl, aren’t you? Who’s a good kitty?”

“Mojo,” she repeated, smiling.

Wynter watched in amazement as the Alpha tenderly caressed the sweet little creature. Of all things she thought might happen tonight, this certainly was not one of them. As this terrifyingly attractive side of Logan was revealed to her, she fought the urge to run up and kiss him. The wanting, the temptation was so great; she forced herself into the floor, remaining rooted in place.

“She’s not very much into Voodoo, but she’s lucky,” he explained, petting her and rubbing his face into her soft fur. He caught Wynter examining him as if he had four heads. “What?”

“I’m just…I don’t know, surprised. I love cats, but a wolf with a cat? Seems counterintuitive.” And sexy.

“Yeah, that’s what Tristan thought too. His mate runs an animal shelter. One day, I spent quite a bit of time in her cat room. And what can I say?” He shrugged, fixing her with his eyes as if he was talking about her and not the cat. “I fell in love. You know, sometimes, Dr. Ryan, we can’t control who we fall in love with. Sometimes even when things don’t make sense, they actually make the most sense in the world.”

Wynter blushed and looked away. Oh God, she wanted to touch him so badly. Heat filled her body. Desire pulsed through her veins. She tried to think of anything but sex. What was wrong with her? Just as she’d mustered enough bravery to respond coherently, a portly woman with a gray bun wandered into the foyer. Logan let the cat jump to the floor, approached and gave her a hug.

“Ah, Adèle. Meet Wynter. Wyn, this is Adèle. She’s kept me in one piece since I’ve moved home.”

“Nice to meet you.” Wynter noticed how at ease Logan was with his housekeeper.

“Wynter va rester avec moi,” he told the woman. Adèle ran her eyes over Wynter before conceding that she was welcome.

“Oui, oui. Bonjour, Wynter,” Adèle greeted. She briskly turned on her heels, speaking rapidly in French. She waved an arm, gesturing for them to follow. “Allons, le dîner est prêt.”

“Merci, I’m starving,” Logan picked up a piece of fluffy white bread out of a bowl and quickly stuffed it into his mouth before she had a chance to protest. “Merci beaucoup pour obtenir la maison prête. Everything looks great.”

Adèle pointed to the large glass dining table, and promptly set out another place setting for his guest. Logan sat at the head of the table and gestured for Wynter to sit at his side. Wynter, famished, obeyed, not sure what she should do next. The enticing aroma of a basket of warmed New Orleans-style French bread teased at her nose. Adèle set out two large bowls of what Wynter thought was gumbo, and plates of salad.

“Salade. Gumbo. Pain,” Adèle ticked off her creations and then took off her apron. “See you tomorrow, no?”

“Oui, and thanks again, Adèle. The place is really coming together,” Logan noted.

She smiled and nodded, but appeared to be in a hurry to leave. “Oui, Monsieur. Soyez le bienvenu.” With a wave, she took off toward the back of the home. A door shutting let them know they were alone.

Following Logan’s lead, Wynter dug into the delightful gooey mixture with her spoon. They ate in silence. She noticed that like the great room, the kitchen was sparsely decorated. Dark cherry cabinets and hardwood floors were offset by the white granite countertops. The only item on the counter alongside the wall was a coffeemaker. No dishes or glasses sat atop the oversized rectangular island. In fact, there wasn’t much décor at all. No pictures on the walls. Not even a clock. Taking a deep breath, she could smell the new drywall and paint and wondered how long Logan had lived here.

As if he read her thoughts, he was the first to speak. “I just built it,” he commented without explanation.

“It’s beautiful,” she replied.

“It’s empty,” he countered. “But someday soon, it’ll be more of a home than a house.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“I haven’t.”

“Hmm?”

“This is the first meal I’ve eaten here…with you,” he stated, meeting her eyes. Had she no idea how important she was to him? How important she had yet to become? It was killing him. The silence. The lack of understanding. And most of all the lack of intimacy. Intimacy which had shattered into a million bits when she left him to go with Jax. It was time to talk, to not just mend their relationship, but set it on a course that would solidify their future.

Wynter stilled at the realization that he’d brought her here, to his home. He’d told her that he’d lived in Marcel’s home, but this was a new beginning. It had been something special he’d built on his own and now shared with her. Her chest tightened, and she struggled to come up with the right words.

“Logan, I…I’m sorry,” she began. “Today…it’s just that everything has moved so quickly. And not just this…this thing between us. It’s everything.”

“This thing,” he said tersely. “This thing is not a thing. It’s a bond, Wynter. I’ve marked you. We’re mates. It’s not simply a choice we make. It either is or it isn’t.”

“Yes, but I…” she placed her spoon on the table and wiped her mouth.