Текст книги "Walk Through Fire"

Автор книги: Kristen Ashley

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Текущая страница: 25 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

*  *  *

At five oh five that night, High found himself leaning against his truck again.

He was this way outside Deb’s work.

He’d called her and asked her for fifteen minutes after work to have a chat about Zadie.

When he’d done that, she’d replied, “Yeah. Figured Zade didn’t take this weekend too great.”

She said no more and agreed to meet.

High did not want to be there. It was the last place he wanted to be. The first place he wanted to be was at Millie’s waiting for her to come out in her sweater dress.

But their reservation wasn’t until seven.

He had time to do this and he had to do this.

So he was there, doing it.

He watched as Deb walked out, plastic lunch bag in her hand that she undoubtedly packed with carrot sticks, apple slices, and other shit that was good for you. Purse on her shoulder that he knew cost over five hundred dollars because he saw it on the credit card statement—handbags, dying her hair, and buying expensive makeup at department stores the only girl weaknesses she had.

Other than that, she was in jeans, a maroon button-down that had her company’s insignia over the breast pocket, her hair in a ponytail, her face made up like she did it for work: mascara, foundation, some blush, and done.

It’d help if she found a man. Zadie would begin to catch on if his ex also moved on.

He suspected she might go to a bar and hook up.

Other than that, she’d never bother.

“Hey,” she greeted as she got to him at his truck that was parked next to her car.

“Hey,” he replied. “Thanks for the time.”

She nodded.

“Won’t take a lot of it,” he told her. “But gotta share with you that Zadie was not good with meetin’ Millie.”

“I figured that,” she said. “She bitched about it a lot since you took them to pizza at Bonnie Brae.” She threw out a hand. “Sorry. I probably should have warned you about that.”

“She warned me at the time seein’ as she wasn’t pleased about it then and she’s Zadie. She had no problem communicatin’ that. I warned Millie but I didn’t know where she’d take what she was feelin’. Where it took her was pretty much dumpin’ her full Sprite in Millie’s lap even though we hadn’t even ordered dinner at the Spaghetti Factory.”

He watched Deb’s eyes get big and ticked.

“You’re kidding me,” she snapped.

“Wish I was,” he told her. “Consequences of that were we left without dinner. She hid the shit she did the next day and Millie didn’t share what it was. But got it outta her that Zadie said some things to her. Millie canceled plans because she thought the girls could use a break. She was right. I was pushin’ too fast, too soon. But I had a chat with them this mornin’, laid some things out about Millie and my history, and nothin’ sunk in with Zadie. She was a snot to Millie and she was a snot to me.”

Deb tipped her head to the side and asked with mild curiosity, “What’s your history with Millie?”

It struck him then he’d never given her that.

And it struck him then, since he hadn’t, even in the little he knew they had, how little they’d actually had. He didn’t dig deep with her. She didn’t dig deep with him.

He and Millie had talked all the time. It wasn’t just good times and good fucking. She knew everything about his life. His thoughts about it. His feelings about it. And she’d given the same.

He gave none of that to Deb.

And he got none of it back.

“We were together, my early twenties, and we were together awhile,” he explained. “We both wanted a family and were gonna start when she finished school. We started. Or we tried to start. She found out she couldn’t have kids. Instead of tellin’ me that, she dumped me so I could have them.”

Deb straightened her head and he saw understanding wash through her features.

She knew how much he loved his girls. She knew how tight he was with all the family he had. Fuck, it was him who opened the negotiations that led to them having Zadie.

And he reckoned the only things in her life she truly wanted, truly loved, were their girls.

“Oh, High,” she whispered.

Yeah, she understood.

“It sucked. We reconnected, wasn’t pretty ’cause I was in deep with her and didn’t take it real good when she cut me out. Eventually found out why she got shot of me. We worked it out. But she made a sacrifice for me that I get ’cause if I was in her shoes back then, I’d make the same one. That’s over now and we’re movin’ on. I just need the girls to move on with me.”

“I’m not trying to be a bitch, really I’m not, when I say that the way Zadie’s being has a good deal to do with you. You’re too soft on her, High.”

“That’s why we’re talkin’,” he stated. “ ’Cause I got that right in my face this weekend. Millie got more of it. And I gotta put a stop to it. Zadie’s gonna react, you’re gonna hear it, likely see it and have to put up with it. I realize it’s totally uncool, me standin’ here askin’ you this shit, but I got three girls in my life who I want to get along, so gotta do it. And that’s me askin’ you to take my back with this.”

Her brows snapped together and she said, “Of course, High. God, you don’t even have to ask. It’s not like I don’t want you to be happy.”

He had no fucking clue what Deb wanted second to second, day to day or for her life.

But he was shocked as shit she wanted him to be happy.

It wasn’t that she’d want him to suffer.

It was just that he didn’t think she gave much of a shit.

“Means a lot, Deb,” he muttered.

“You want me to talk to her?” she asked.

“Think she should sit on what she’s done and what she knows. Cleo is Cleo. She’s on board. Maybe she’ll have a word.”

Deb made a face that said it all.

No one had much effect on Zadie when she wanted something, not even her big sister.

He grinned. “Worth it to hope.”

He watched Deb’s lips curl up slightly.

He continued, “Just want you to be aware so you aren’t blindsided by any of her shit. And if she starts bitchin’. . .” He shook his head. “Whatever you could do would be appreciated.”

“I’ll keep an eye and we’ll have a chat if she gets bad,” Deb offered.

“Like I said, whatever would be appreciated.”

She nodded.

Great.

That was done.

“Leave you alone to get back to our girls,” he muttered, pushing away from the truck.

“Right. Talk to you later, High,” she said, starting to move to round the hood of her car to get to the driver’s side door.

“Deb,” he called.

She stopped and looked back at him.

“Hope you know, want you to be happy too,” he told her.

“I know that,” she replied.

He was mildly curious when he asked, “Got any clue what’d do that?”

“Got it,” she told him. “Good job that pays well and is only a headache on occasion. Two good girls, though one can be a pain in the ass, but that’s usually only on occasion too. Really all I need, you know?”

He didn’t know.

Getting woken up with a phenomenal blowjob.

Bickering about alarm clocks.

Kittens underfoot.

Watching TV you don’t give a shit about just to make someone you love happy.

Looking forward to what that someone you love was going to wear that day because you know it’ll turn you on.

Knowing if you showed at her office, no matter who she was talking to on the phone, she’d get off it so she could get her arms around you and you could put your mouth on hers.

Working for a smile.

Then earning it.

No, he didn’t fucking know.

Not at all.

“Would want more for you, Deb,” he said gently, and had to stop his chin jerking back when he watched her face get soft.

“Some people aren’t built like others, High. It’s sweet that you’d want that for me. You’re a good man. I think that’s why we worked for as long as we did. But I’m just not built like that.” She held his eyes and her lips curved up slightly again. “Though, I’m glad, since you are, you finally got what you needed.”

“You’re a good woman, too, Deb,” he told her because she was.

And she was right.

That was why they’d worked for as long as they did.

And that was why they’d had to end it before they stopped working.

“I’d like to meet Millie one day,” she replied.

“We’ll get on that as soon as Zadie gets her shit together.”

She nodded. “That’d be good.”

“It would,” he agreed, turning to his truck. “Now be safe gettin’ home.”

“Always am.”

Without another word to her, High got in his truck, started her up, but idled until Deb was in, buckled up, and on her way.

Then he pulled out of his spot and followed her to the exit of the parking lot.

She turned left.

High turned right.

*  *  *

“Low,” she whispered, riding him hard.

He had her on her knees, torso up. He was behind her, his dick was buried inside her, his hand curved around her tit, finger and thumb pinching and pulling, and he had her toy to her clit.

She was gone.

Part of this was because she’d tortured him through a fat shrimp appetizer, a big steak dinner, and a fucking dessert, all of this wearing a clingy sweater dress that had the added temptation of having a wide collar that fell off one, the other, or both her shoulders.

So when he got her home, he’d wasted no time getting her hot, then making her hotter as he turned her over his thighs at the side of her bed, yanked up her skirt, and dove in.

He toyed with her watching her ass move, feeling her squirm, listening to her whimper then beg, and doing this with her laid out for him, another pair of thigh-highs and her brown high-heeled boots a bonus to the goodness.

Only when she’d begged had he torn off her clothes, bumping up against her repeatedly as she tore off his. He grabbed her toy and positioned her to get the rest.

And there they were and if she didn’t get there, things would get messy.

Lips to her neck watching her tits bounce as she drove herself down on his dick, he murmured, “Get yourself there, baby.”

“Low,” she whimpered, her hands moving high and low to wrap around his wrists tight.

“Take it and get yourself there,” he growled, needing her to do that in about two seconds or he’d be spent and need to use just her toy to take her there.

She bucked harder, moaning, “Oh my God.”

Fuck.

She was killing him.

“Millie—”

“Oh my God,” she breathed, letting go of his wrist at her tit and reaching back to clamp her hand in his hair as she drove down hard and started grinding.

Finally, she was coming.

Thank Christ.

He cupped her tit, tossed the toy, wrapped his arm around her belly, and held her steady to power up into her until he found it, grunting his orgasm into her neck.

He felt her breath even as his own grew steady.

Then he growled, “New rule. No fuckin’ toy when I’m away from you.”

She released his hair. “What?”

He pulled his face out of her neck and looked at her profile. “You made yourself come. Meant you could take more and take it longer. Thought my dick was gonna explode waitin’ for you to come.”

She twisted to look at him.

“Is that a problem?” she asked.

“You finish before me, Millie,” he answered with information she fucking well knew.

She grinned. “It isn’t a cardinal rule.”

He raised his brows. “It’s not?”

She looked to his brows, then back to his eyes, hers were dancing. “It’s not my fault you’re so hot, generally, but also being that in bed so I have to take care of business at the very thought of you if you’re away.”

“Abstain.”

She giggled.

He did not.

She lifted a hand to stroke his cheek, whispering playfully, “You can handle it.”

She gasped as he pulled her off his cock, turned her, put her in bed on her back, and followed her down, giving her a good amount of his weight.

“How playful you feelin’, beautiful?” he asked quietly.

“I may,” she kept whispering, “need a nap before I get more playful.”

He slid a hand down her side, in, and used his fingertips to stroke the skin of where her panty line at her front would be if she was wearing panties.

“Sure about that?”

Her whisper was breathy when she replied, “I might be coaxed into continuing to be playful.”

He hid his grin by kissing her.

After he finished kissing her, he started doing other things to her.

He didn’t stop even when, after he’d just started, she turned her head and said in his ear, “So glad you’re home, Snooks.”

That earned her another kiss.

As well as other things.

Which meant he was glad he was home too.

But he’d already felt that earlier when he walked in her back door and Chief had come sailing across the floor and hit his boot.

And then she’d walked out in her phenomenal dress.

But mostly it was after she did that.

Which was when she’d smiled.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Anything We Could

Millie

THE DOORBELL RANG and I opened my eyes.

“Fuck,” Logan said from behind me right before he rolled away and I felt him continue to roll as he rolled out of bed.

I twisted his way and peered at him through the predawn dark.

“Someone’s at the door,” I informed him of something he obviously knew, considering he was at the side of the bed pulling on his boxer briefs.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

I looked to the (new) alarm clock, then back to him. “At six in the morning.”

Due to Logan’s extreme dislike of alarm clocks, and his contribution to my morning (and household) routine, I’d adjusted the alarm so it didn’t wake us up before six but at six thirty.

With Logan making coffee, bringing me coffee, bringing me cereal or toasted, schmeared bagels, feeding and watering the cats and going out to jack up the thermostat in my studio and making coffee there, I had more time in the morning.

Not to mention doing other things that just gave me more time in my day. Like taking out the trash, getting in the groceries (he had no aversion to the grocery store and my groaning fridge and cupboards laid testimony to this fact), loading and emptying the dishwasher, nabbing my mail (both personal and office), and dropping it at a post box (even going to the post office if something needed special treatment).

It was now the Thursday after Logan’s weekend with his girls. He and I were getting into a rhythm. And this was part of our rhythm.

A happy part.

But there was more.

Like Logan noticing the light switch that turned on the lights to the kitchen by the living room didn’t quite catch unless you had the patience to flip it half a dozen times. So he’d gone to his RV, collected his box of tools, brought it back, opened the plate, and fixed the switch (then left his tools in my laundry room).

Like Logan noticing the spray function on my kitchen faucet didn’t work right. So he’d fiddled with it for a while, couldn’t fix it, then went out and bought a new faucet (that was not the same as the old one but it was even more awesome).

When he got back with the faucet, he didn’t screw around. Right then, he installed it.

These were things I’d lived with. Things I’d repeatedly told myself I was going to mention to Alan and ask him to fix or find a handyman to fix them. Things I always forgot to bother with then kicked myself when they came to my attention and annoyed me because I hadn’t bothered with them.

Things Logan noted weren’t working and he immediately fixed them.

In ways that I hadn’t noticed, life was kind of a bummer, having to do these things myself, I didn’t miss how the additional ways having Logan back made life not a bummer.

And it was strange, since back when we were together he didn’t do any of this stuff. He might take out the trash (if I asked). He might help me unload the dishwasher or do the dishes (if I asked). But mostly, I took care of him.

He took care of me, but not in those ways.

Now he was taking care of me in those ways.

There was something about this that made weird mix in with the wonderful because I knew that he was probably like this because when we used to be together, we were young and neither of us knew any better. We’d found our way, a way that worked, but maybe, looking back, it wasn’t the right way.

He’d learned to be that way through Deb and having a family.

You grew up, you grew smart, you had a partner, you made babies, you pitched in.

I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d had him all that time, since we couldn’t have a family of our own, if he’d have learned all this or if he’d have just gone on letting me take care of him (which might end up being a pain in the ass).

In other words, I wondered if I had Deb (and the girls) to thank.

In the end, what I came up with was the fact that life as a whole mixed weird with wonderful because I’d never know the answers to my questions. I just knew I had that new part of Logan now, no matter how he learned it, no matter that I likely did have Deb (and the girls) to thank. It just was.

And it was mine.

“Demolition crew.”

When Logan spoke, I jerked out of my thoughts and looked to him to see he had his jeans up and was bent to nab his thermal off the floor.

“Demolition crew?” I asked.

He was pulling on his shirt while walking swiftly around the bed. “Take down your garage.”

Oh.

Right.

He’d mentioned that but I’d forgotten it was today.

I’d forgotten because the girls were coming that night for dinner. I was making beef Stroganoff. And I was again a little nervous.

Just in time, I turned my head so when Logan bent in to give me a peck, I got it on my lips before the doorbell rang again and he was off to go answer it.

I reached out, turned on a light, and swung my legs off the side of the bed.

I was brushing, wondering how my neighbors were going to feel about a demolition crew starting work at six in the morning, when Logan walked into the bathroom.

“Coffee started. Cats fed. They’re movin’ their shit out back. Goin’ back there to make sure they know what they’re doin’,” he informed me.

I nodded.

He looked me top to toe to eyes, taking in my jammies, my bedhead, and the sonic toothbrush in my mouth.

“Only bitch on the planet who can brush her teeth and make me wanna fuck her while she’s doin’ it,” he remarked.

I narrowed my eyes, pulled my toothbrush out of my mouth—the movement of the head splattering spit, paste, and foam everywhere—and snapped a frothy, “Don’t call me a bitch.”

He grinned like I was highly amusing and disappeared.

I shoved my brush back into my mouth, looked back into the mirror, stopped scowling, and kept brushing but did it grinning.

*  *  *

The door to my studio opened and the alarm didn’t sound.

It didn’t sound because Logan was on the premises, making sure the demolition crew did what he was paying them to do but also keeping his eye on me.

So the only sound I got when Logan opened the door and stuck his head in was, “Babe.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Got a second?”

I didn’t. I had to leave in fifteen minutes to meet a corporate client, a law firm that did three to four parties a year, all with me, and they were gearing up for their annual holiday party.

“Sure,” I said, rolling my chair back and getting up.

As I walked his way, Logan treated me to another appreciative top to toe glance, cementing what was already firm in my mind.

He didn’t need halter tops and cutoff shorts.

He just needed me.

I was already feeling warm and happy inside when I got close and he reached out, took my hand, and pulled me out into the chill, something that incongruously made me feel warmer.

“You gonna be okay without a jacket?” he asked as he shut the door.

No way I could get a chill hand in hand with Logan.

And anyway, I had on a sweater. I’d be okay.

I nodded.

Logan kept hold of my hand as he walked me through my courtyard to the gate to the backyard.

The minute we were through the gate and moving across the bricked patio toward the steps that led us down the terraced backyard to the lower bricked patio, I saw over the fence at the end of the yard that the garage was gone.

As I saw it, I also marveled at the change it made.

It had been an eyesore. I’d always planned to knock it down and put a decent garage there so I didn’t have to scrape my windshield in the winter.

Currently I parked in the courtyard even though, beside the garage, I had a parking space in the back and parking in the courtyard messed with the vision of the courtyard, one that included (eventually) getting a fountain. But parking way out back just never seemed safe, walking through my dark backyard to get to my house. Not to mention, lugging groceries would be a pain.

Nevertheless, scraping windshields in the Colorado cold was more of a pain, so I’d wanted a garage. It was the last big project and I hadn’t done it because any project I did I did paying cash and I hadn’t saved enough to put in the garage.

Seeing the dilapidated old garage gone, I realized I should have used what I’d already saved just to demolish it. The absence of the garage made the entire yard look better.

Logan led me out the back gate to the large, cleared, and tidied space at the edge of my property and I couldn’t help but to smile.

They’d showed at six. They’d set up. They’d demolished. They’d carted off the remains. And it wasn’t even eleven o’clock.

“They’re fast,” I noted, looking up at Logan, who was still holding my hand warm in his.

“Yeah,” he murmured, glancing around. His gaze came to me. “Now, Millie, you’re cool with it, gonna grade this, gravel it, then build a fence around the perimeter.”

He lifted the hand not holding mine to indicate the entire area. An area that to one side my neighbors had a relatively new fence leading to the very edge of their property line, and on the other side, my neighbors had a shabby fence also leading to their property line.

“Big doors to the alley,” Logan continued. He turned us to the back fence to my property. “Build a new fence there, coupla feet higher. Swing my RV in here. Fence higher at the back, won’t see the RV from the yard. Fence around the RV, keeps it safer. Motion sensor lights out here, makes it even safer. Put smaller gates in at the side.” He pointed. “Easy access to the alley and the Dumpsters.”

Although he clearly had it all thought out, and his vision was a good vision, one could say I didn’t like this.

Logan’s RV was huge. It’d take up the entire space.

Which meant I wouldn’t get my garage, and more importantly, I wouldn’t eventually be able to avoid scraping my windshields.

“You’re not down with that?” he asked.

I looked up to him. “No. It’s cool.”

His hand gave mine a squeeze. “You’re not down with that,” he stated.

I smiled at him. “No, really, I’m cool.”

“Babe,” he said.

“What?” I asked when he didn’t continue.

“You’re not down with that,” he repeated.

I shook my head and replied, “It’s not that. It’s just that I wanted to put a garage out here, a new one. A nice one. One with an opener and one that would mean ice scraping would be history. But you need a safe place for your RV. I’m used to parking in the courtyard. And a new garage would mean putting in motion sensor lights everywhere so I didn’t kill myself in the dark getting up to the house. That’s a big project and a lot of money. So,” I shrugged, “whatever. I like your vision. It’s all good.”

He studied me a second, then tugged on my hand, leading me back through the gate but stopping us on the lower patio.

He looked around. He did it holding my hand but he did it for a long time.

I didn’t know what was on his mind. I wanted to know what was on his mind but I also had a meeting.

So I needed to step this up.

“Low,” I called his attention to me.

When I got it, he declared, “We got a problem.”

I was confused.

“What? How?”

He turned us to the back fence. “ ’Cause if we move that fence in to give you room for your garage and me room to pull in the RV nose-first at the side, you lose at least half this patio, probably more.” He pointed to the brick beneath our feet. Then he turned us to the house. “And we gotta look at building on two rooms. We do that, not only gonna eat up some of your courtyard, also gonna eat up some of that top patio.”

This also didn’t fill me with glee.

To give his daughters their own rooms and the house a dining room meant I’d lose even more of the vision I had for my house that I’d nurtured and fed for eleven years.

That would suck.

Not allowing Logan to have what he needed for himself and his daughters would suck more.

“So grade the back and put the RV in as you planned,” I decided.

He looked down at me. “Means you don’t get your garage.”

“I’ve lived without it since I’ve lived here,” I told him. “I can continue to live without it.”

His hand tightened in mine. “Millie—”

I cut him off. “Alternate scenarios are to extend the pergola over the courtyard or fully roof it so we can park under that. We’d avoid snow on our vehicles even if we didn’t avoid ice.”

This I didn’t like either unless carefully designed. Not carefully designed, it’d look ugly. And that was not only my view out the kitchen window but out the studio windows as well.

“Or,” I went on, “we can make the courtyard into the backyard space. Put in a fountain. Some furniture. Clients can park out front or in the drive. And we can eat up this patio for the garage and your RV space because we’d still have our outside area and it’d be closer to the house.”

“May need part of the courtyard for the dining room and bedroom, beautiful,” Logan reminded me.

I lifted my shoulders and gave it all.

“So, we grade the back, put your RV there, and when it gets to the point where you have the girls more often, we move to a new house.”

Logan’s hand tightened in mine again, doing this firm, and it felt like it was automatic.

This reaction confused me too.

I used his name to ask my question. “Logan?”

“You made this yours. You dig it. Not gonna make you move,” he said.

He was right. I liked that he cared about that for me because I cared about it too.

However.

“It’s just a house.”

“You made it yours, Millie.”

“So I’ll make another house mine, actually ours. And that’s probably good. My house is girlie. I think Cleo and Zadie dig it, even though Zadie wouldn’t admit that now. But that doesn’t negate the fact that a man will be living with us and we have to have a mind to that. Though,” I carried on quickly, “I will say now, no more fixer-uppers. Even if it takes us two years, we find something right for all of us and that right will be an as-is right. Not a do-a-load-of-work-on-it-for-years right. I’ve been there done that got the T-shirt with the renovation thing and I use the T-shirt as a dust cloth because the results were spectacular but the road to that was a pain in my ass. Not to mention super-freaking-expensive.”

He stared down at me a beat, the look in his eyes one I couldn’t read.

Right before I was going to ask what was up with him, I found my mouth engaged in doing something else. Namely him plundering it with his tongue.

I held on tight, my arms around his shoulders, my body pressed to his, his arms snug around me, and felt the gratitude (and other things) he communicated through his kiss.

Upcoming meeting I was soon to be late for or not, I was disappointed when it ended.

But it ended and it ended on an extremely high note when he said immediately after, “Love you, Millie.”

“Love you too, Snooks,” I breathed.

He rested his forehead on mine a second before he lifted a bit away. “Grade the back for now, build the fence. Cost won’t be too high, we figure somethin’ out about stayin’ at your pad and change our minds and hafta tear the fence down to build a garage. Yeah?”

I nodded.

“No answer now,” he said. “But want you thinkin’ on it. When you got an answer, you give it to me straight up, no worries about my reaction. But you built somethin’ beautiful here, babe.” He jerked his head toward my house. “If you’re gonna have a problem lettin’ that go—”

“Logan,” I interrupted him. “The only problem I’ll have is if I don’t have you wherever it is I am.” I pressed closer and dipped my voice quieter. “Like I said. It’s just a house. Do I love it?” I asked, then answered myself. “Yes. But it’s an it. You’re you. You’re back so that means my home is where you are. It’s that simple and that’s your answer. I don’t have to think about it for even a second.”

I got done with my speech and got another kiss. This was longer, hotter, harder and it spoke of gratitude and a lot of other things, lots of them, and they were all good.

Unfortunately, when he broke it that time, I had to share, “I’ve got a meeting, Snook’ums.”

“Right,” he muttered, staring at my mole.

“Low,” I called.

He looked to my eyes.

“Sort out the back. Get your RV here. All that’s you. Really come home,” I ordered.

“Fuck,” he growled. “You don’t quit the sweet, you ain’t gonna be late for your meeting. You’re not gonna make it.”

I grinned. “Okay, then let me go so I don’t lose a client and perhaps my ability to pay for more staff so I can have more time for you.”

“I let you go, gotta watch your ass in that skirt walkin’ up to your studio,” he returned.

I grinned again but on the inside.

“You really do have sex on the brain,” I noted.

“Think you missed it, Millie, but haven’t fucked you yet today.”

I hadn’t missed it.

“I think that means tonight’s gonna be fun,” I replied.

He shook his head but did it with lips curled up.

“Are you gonna let me go?” I asked.

“No,” he answered, even as he did what he said he wasn’t going to do. “Never. Not ever, babe.” His eyes warmed. “But I’ll let you go to your meeting.”

Now he was being sweet.

“No fair. Now I wanna jump you.”

His eyes stayed warm but his smile was cocky.

This could go on all day. And in order to be able to jump him whenever I felt like it (eventually), I needed Justine on board.

Which meant I needed my client.

So I reached to his thermal, grabbed a fistful, and pulled him to me. I got up on toes to press my lips hard to his and then shifted away.

“Later, Snooks,” I whispered.

“Later, baby,” he whispered back.

I grinned at him and let him go.

Then I walked away. Even in a hurry, I did it slow so I could give him a show because I knew my man was watching and I was his old lady.

We gave like that.

We gave anything we could.

*  *  *

It was that evening and I was walking on clouds because it was going great.

Logan had picked the girls up from dance practice on Tuesday and taken them out to dinner, just him and them. Other than that, it had been only phone calls.

But having them there now, I noticed that since our weekend, something had changed.

They’d arrived at my house that night, Logan picking them up from their mother’s, and although Zadie was a bit moody and uncommunicative, Cleo was not.

There had been barriers before between Cleo and me. She’d been the way she was with me solely to get the approval of her father.