I warm Ivy’s dinner and carry it with me to the three-chair table. “Dinner time, honey,” I tell Ivy as I pick her up from the playpen and carry her to the highchair.
Ivy is a good eater and though she makes a mess trying to feed herself as I feed her, we’re soon done with dinner. I can’t see Logan from the table but when I carry Ivy’s plate to the kitchen, I see him sprawled on the floor with his head hidden by the sink cabinet.
My gaze is drawn to his body, and I suck in a sharp breath. His chest muscles ripple under his shirt as he works on the sink. I lower my gaze shamelessly to the impressive bulge at the front of his pants. My thighs tremble as I imagine how it would feel to grind myself against it. I imagine myself pulling down his zipper and reaching for his cock. He’s definitely well endowed and my mouth waters at the thought of taking it into my mouth.
I’m rooted to the spot and can’t move when Logan slides out from under the sink and stands up. My face feels too hot and I’m sure he can see the rise and fall of my chest.
The air becomes stifled and tension-filled as we lock gazes. I feel myself drowning in the blueness of his eyes. A deep longing comes over me and for a few seconds, I want to throw caution to the wind and step into his arms.
“Maaaaaaa—”
I jump at the shriek before realizing that it’s from Ivy and one of the usual speaking noises she makes.
Logan and I move simultaneously and bump into each other. His hand shoots out to hold me up and I find myself wedged against a hard, firm body.
His scent is spicy and exotic, and it wraps around me like a blanket. My physical attraction to him is disconcerting and frightening. We both jump back at the same time as if we’ve been burned.
“It should be okay now,” Logan says. “Try it.”
I make my legs move to the sink and I open the tap to wash Ivy’s bowl. The water flows easily without any mishap. “Thank you,” I say swinging around to look at him.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
“Can I tempt you to dinner?” I ask.
He glances at Ivy and before he can say anything I jump in. “I’m about to give her a bath, a bottle, and then it’s bedtime.”
He looks conflicted. “If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”
“It isn’t,” I tell him. “In fact, I feel like celebrating moving into this lovely cottage. You’ll be helping me celebrate, that’s of course if your girlfriend won’t mind.”
His eyes twinkle with amusement. “No girlfriend.”
Relief surges through me and I immediately scold myself. It doesn’t matter whether Logan has a girlfriend or not. My interest in him is friendship or at the very least, a cordial relationship, something everyone wants with their landlord.
“Dinner smells so good, it’s impossible to say no,” he says with that panty-melting smile that makes me long for things I have no business longing for with my landlord. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”
“That’s enough time to get Ivy to bed,” I tell him.
I can’t believe I asked him for dinner, but I had to. It’s the least I can do after he fixed my plumbing issues. I sing and swing Ivy as I take her to the bathroom for her bath. Her giggles bounce off the walls of the cottage.
I’m beyond excited and I have to keep reminding myself that Logan and I are just two people enjoying a friendly dinner. As usual, Ivy lets out a scream of protest when it’s time to get out of the bath. I distract her by singing to her.
Soon she’s dressed and sleepy as I cuddle her while giving her a bottle. This is my favorite time of the day when we wind down for the evening. Except this evening, I’m not thinking of winding down.
Chapter 6
Logan
I peer at my reflection in the mirror. I hope I haven’t dressed too formally. I’ve picked a navy blue, button-down shirt, and black trousers. I fork my fingers through my hair and then catch myself. I’m not a man who engages in real relationships so whether Vanessa is attracted to me or not is a moot point.
I end the look with a light spray of cologne. I glance at my watch. Quarter to seven. It’s a good time to go. As I grab my phone from the bedside table, it lights up and vibrates with a call. My heart races when I see my mother’s number. We haven’t spoken since I dropped that bomb on them.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi,” she says in a formal tone.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” She inhales deeply. “Tell me about my granddaughter.”
All air leaves my lungs. I feel as if I’ve been punched in the belly. My mind frantically searches for snippets that I’ve stored about Emma. “What do you want to know?”