I sit at the table silently, wishing I’d have the words to tell him how much this means to me. No one’s ever made me breakfast. When I was a kid, I prepared my own and made sure Mom didn’t starve herself. After my mom got back on her feet, she always left for work before I woke up, so I ate by myself.
“You can still back out of helping me.”
“No chance. By the way, I’m sure you are a woman of many talents, but your singing skills are terrible.”
It completely slipped my mind that he might hear me. “Oh, well, I can’t wait to show you my other talents.” I wink at him.
“What might those be?”
“I won’t tell you yet. A girl’s got to have her secrets.”
Logan narrows his eyes. “Will you be naked when you show me those skills?”
“You perv.”
He holds up his palms in defense. “I can’t help it. Someone teased me right before I went to sleep. Gave me the biggest case of blue balls since I was in high school.”
I burst out laughing, shaking my head.
Inspecting the full table, I ask, “Why is there food for five people?”
Logan tilts his head to one side. “We’ll do a lot of physical work today, so we need a good breakfast.”
“Logan, you don’t have to help me. I’m sure you can find better things to do on a Saturday.”
“Not at all.” He surprises me by rounding the table and hugging me from behind, his teeth grazing my earlobe. “I can’t wait to see you sweat. I might even be rewarded with small, delicious grunts. From all the hard work, of course.”
Goosebumps form on the skin on my arms, and Logan chuckles. I wonder what he’d do if he knew about the goosebumps on my inner thighs, and the slickness between them. I fantasized about him the entire night, waking up panting, and this so isn’t helping. But before I can decide on the best way to tease him, his phone rings.
“I’m helping you. It’s not negotiable. Consider it a gift for me, fulfilling a guilty pleasure.”
I consider it the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.
He moves away and answers the call. While I chew my food, I can’t help overhearing bits and pieces of his conversation, even if he’s a good few feet away from the table. Most of it doesn’t make sense, but when I hear the word billion, I almost choke on my croissant.
Most of the time, it’s easy to forget who Logan is—CFO and stakeholder of a multi-billion dollar company. This man rubs elbows with the most important people in the country. This same man chose to date little ol’ me, a girl from a small town with a big dream, and to spend his Saturday renovating a shithole instead of doing anything else.
After he finishes the conversation, he fills a plate with food and excuses himself, explaining he must send a few emails before we leave. He spends the rest of our breakfast typing on his laptop.
Afterward, on the way out of the apartment, he picks up a toolbox by the door.
“This wasn’t here yesterday,” I remark.
Logan chuckles. “You’re perceptive. I had a driver bring me my toolbox from my parents’ house this morning.”
“I have tools back at the shop. You don’t need to bring it with you.”
Logan feigns shock. “Of course I have to. I need my toys, can’t play with someone else’s.”
I do a double take. “You have to stop doing that.”
“What?” he asks innocently.
“Throwing around sexual innuendos all the time.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was speaking from a technical perspective. Not my fault you have a dirty mind.” He winks at me, adding, “Seriously. Every man needs his tools.” Then he wiggles his eyebrows.
Right. No innuendo there.