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.
I knew this now because those barriers were eroding.
Through chitchat while cooking, horsing about, and eating beef Stroganoff at my bar, Cleo introduced me to the real Cleo.
And she was a love.
Sure, she adored her father and wanted his approval.
But when it wasn’t something she was working at, when it was just a natural part of her, coupling that with Logan’s reaction to it, it was sweet to the point it was downright cute.
So cute it gave a happy glow that I was beside myself with glee I got to bask in it.
Though it was more.
She was unreservedly delighted when I let her give fresh food to the cats. When I asked about dance, she’d timidly (then with my encouragement and compliments, not so timidly) showed me some of the moves they were rehearsing for their routine, so damned adorable doing this in my kitchen, I felt even mor
e glow warming me to my bones.
And she didn’t hide how much she liked my house and the studio when I took them on a guided tour of both after the dinner dishes were done, saying to me shyly while standing in the guestroom, “It’ll be fun when we get to sleep over, Millie.”
More glow.
Further adding to this goodness, it seemed that as all this went on, Zadie was studying it, watching Cleo come out of her shell and my reaction to it. And I hoped, in watching, that she’d find she’d want to start building something like that with me too.
Now things were winding down. We were going to hang in front of the TV with a batch of cupcakes from Tessa’s Bakery that I’d picked up on the way back from my meeting. We were going to do something normal that a family would do at the end of the day before Logan had to take them back to their mom’s.
The girls were selecting seats (Zadie, not surprisingly, pulling a princess and getting the cuddle chair, Cleo, not suffering in getting the love seat) and Logan had claimed his, the corner of the couch.
He also claimed me. His hand catching mine, he was pulling me down beside him when I watched Poem struggle up into the love seat with Cleo, unable to jump that height, so she used her claws.
Seeing that, I put tension in my arm to resist Logan’s pull and looked around, asking, “Anyone seen Chief?”
I asked this because I hadn’t. Not since Cleo gave them fresh food before we sat down for dinner.
Chief and Poem had settled into their new abode, putting up with me loving on them, enjoying me playing with them, and were currently in the throes of figuring out who ruled the roost.
This meant a lot of kitty wrestling.
However, I’d noticed that Chief was winning. Poem was starting to hang back and wait to see where Chief would claim before she decided to challenge his claim or allow it.
It was rare when they weren’t both around, jockeying for position.
Rare as in, it never happened.
But Chief was nowhere to be seen.
“Haven’t seen him, babe,” Logan muttered.
I looked to Cleo, who had a hand stretched to a skittish Poem but her eyes to me. “I haven’t either.”
“Think he went outside when we went to your office,” Zadie stated, and my eyes shot to her, my blood freezing in my veins.
“What?” I whispered.
She stared at me and I was way too freaked to see anything but confusion in her face. “Not sure but I think I saw him wander outside when we went out—”
I tore my hand from Logan’s and raced to the back door, throwing it open and sprinting outside.
It was cold. It was dark.
And my Chief was tiny.
They were not going to be outside cats and not because they cost a fortune and had bushy coats that were hard enough to keep tamed as indoor cats and this would be impossible if they went outdoors.
But because I’d read that indoor cats lived longer than outdoor cats. Way longer. Like… years.
Further, they’d showed not the first sign of being interested in the outdoors or being bored with the playroom of a house they’d already been given.
So they were good indoors, which was where they were going to stay.
But now Chief had gotten out. A baby, tiny, anything could happen to him. He could get lost. He could be attacked and stand no chance. Not even if a bird swooped down.
Oh God.
God.
How had I not noticed him getting out?
“Chief,” I called, my eyes darting around as I quickly roamed the courtyard. “Come on, baby. You out here? Chief?”
“Chief.” I heard Cleo call. “Here kitty-kitty. Here Chiefy-Chiefy.”
I then heard the gate to the backyard open and looked that way to see Logan prowl through it with a flashlight.
“Chief!” I cried, moving toward the studio. “Come here, kitty. Come to Momma, baby.”
Cleo called. I called. I felt and saw her searching with me. I skirted the entirety of the outside of the studio. Cleo and I then moved down the drive and searched the front of the house. Cleo was edging toward my neighbor’s yard when I headed the opposite way and saw Logan stalking down the drive.
I raced to him.
“Nothing?” I asked, my voice pitched high with panic.
He looked toward his daughter. “Clee-Clee. Come back with me.”
I grabbed onto his thermal for the second time that day but in an entirely different way.
When I got his attention, I cried frantically, “Did you find something?”
“Open space up here, baby,” he said gently. “More hiding places back there. Need two sets of eyes. You keep lookin’ up here.” He glanced around. “Where’s Zadie? She not helpin’ you up here?”
I didn’t know where Zadie was and the only thing on my mind in that moment was where Chief was.
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll go back with you, Daddy,” Cleo said, already rushing up the drive.
“Keep lookin’,” Logan urged to me as I stood frozen and stared after Cleo.
I aimed my eyes to him. “He’s so tiny.”
He lifted a hand to curl it around the side of my neck. “Keep lookin’, baby.”
“He’s so tiny, Low. Just a baby. What if a dog—?”
He gave my neck a squeeze. “Keep lookin’. Hear?”
It was the hear? that got me.
I pulled my shit together, nodded, moved away, and hurried toward my neighbor’s yard. I sensed Logan going back up the drive.
I barely got into the yard, calling out to Chief and heading to my neighbor’s door to knock on it and ask if they’d seen my cat, then beg them to help us look when I heard Logan bellow, “Millie!”
I sprinted toward his voice, which meant up the drive and into my courtyard.
When I arrived, I saw Cleo was standing at the back gate. Logan was standing several feet away from the back door to my house.
Zadie was standing in the opened door, holding Chief tight to her throat.
“I found him—” she started.
She didn’t get it all out. I flew to her and tried (but failed) to keep my shit together as I pulled Chief out of her hold and into mine.
I cuddled him close, whispering, “Oh, God. Oh, baby. I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“Where’d you find him?”
My relief was pierced when this was barked by Logan.
“In-inside,” Zadie stammered her reply.
At her tone, I took a step back so I could look at her.
She was looking at her father and doing it looking terrified.
And guilty.
Then I looked to Logan, who simply looked infuriated.
He’d read his daughter’s look.
“M-m-maybe I was wrong,” she went on. “Maybe I-I-I didn’t see him run out.” Her eyes glanced off me before looking beyond me. “F-f-found him curled up on that long chair in your bedroom.”
“Everyone inside,” Logan snarled, and I held Chief closer as Logan waited for Cleo to dash inside before he strode purposefully toward the door.
I darted a hand out when he got close to me, wrapping it around his forearm to waylay him.
He looked down at me and he was my man, I knew him. I knew the old him and the new him. And I knew, even with the fury burning into me from his gaze, he’d handle this and not lose it (too much).
But still, at the look on his face, I had to fight back quailing.
“Take a second,” I whispered, still holding a now squirming Chief close. “Take a breath.”
He didn’t take a second and he didn’t take a breath. He twisted his arm from my hold but in turn took hold of my hand and dragged me (and Chief) into the house.
He slammed the door and Chief jumped in my arms, starting to claw when he heard the loud noise.
Then Logan dragged us into the living room where Zadie was now standing, looking more terrified and still guilty. Her sister was standing several feet to her side, looking
at her like she wanted to shake some sense into her.
Logan let my hand go, and before he let loose the wrath I felt sweltering from him, I hurriedly spoke.
“Okay, everyone,” I started. “It’s all good.” I kept talking as I bent to release Chief on the floor. He scampered away and I straightened. “Chief’s here. He’s safe. Let’s all take a quick moment to collect ourselves—”
Logan cut me off.
“Right now. The truth,” he demanded of his youngest. “You see that cat run out the door?”
“I thought—” she began.
He bent forward and thundered, “The truth!”
Her chin quivered and it took her some time to get up the nerve, the time she took building more heat in her father, so it was fortunate she found the courage before he exploded (again).
“N-no,” she whispered.
“So you’re standin’ there tellin’ me you scared the shit outta Millie just to be a snot,” Logan declared.
I put a hand to his biceps and held tight.
“Low, you need to take a moment,” I advised.
He didn’t even look at me.
He kept his gaze pinned to his girl.
“Answer me,” he demanded.
“I…” she started, trailed off, looked to me, and burst into tears as she burst into a flurry of words. “I’m sorry! It was mean! I didn’t think you’d get so scared! I thought you’d look inside first and find him!” Her watery eyes went to her father. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to scare her that bad.”
Logan was immune to her tears. “But you meant to scare her.”
She pulled in a painful, hiccoughing breath, still bawling, nodded, and looked at me. “Not that bad, though. Swear. Swear! Not that bad!”
“It’s okay, sweetie,” I said gently.
“It fuckin’ is not,” Logan bit out.
I looked to him. “Low,” I said, this time quietly. “Careful. Language.”
Again, he didn’t even look at me.
But he did gesture to me, jerking his head my way.
“Love her,” he growled. “Bottom of my soul, straight to my gut, I love this woman. Told you that so you already know she’s got that from me. But she decided she didn’t give a shit about my girls and did nasty things to you that made you hurt or made you scared, she’d be gone. She’d never see my face again. She’d be history. Now, love her and love you, Zade. So you do that shit to her, what am I supposed to do with you?”
Walk Through Fire Page 44
