My dad said Logan Bennett was a big guy and had lots of tattoos, but that he served with Logan and knows he’s a good guy. I trust my dad will protect me, and if he thinks Logan is the man for the job, then that’s all I need to know.
I dart my eyes up to meet his briefly while he talks to my dad on the phone. I have to look away just as quickly because good lord, those eyes.
Ice blue and just as cold, but there’s something more. Something deeper. Something I don’t think even he understands about himself.
Or maybe I’ve just been cooped up in this house for too long.
My father has always been overprotective and I can't blame him. After the horrible car accident that took my mom's life and left me fighting for mine, it's understandable that he would want to keep an eye on me.
I had hoped he’d give me a little more freedom when I turned eighteen, but that only seemed to trigger more paranoia. He worried about me going off to college, so he convinced me to stay at home and take online courses.
It was a crushing blow, but I agreed like I always do. I so desperately wanted to move into the dorms and have friends and girls' nights and gossip until the early hours of the morning. I wanted to stay out late, eat too many carbs, and make rash decisions. I wanted to have an intelligent debate with my fellow classmates and be challenged by my teachers. All milestones I missed out on growing up.
It took several years of surgeries and recovery to fix my back and right leg, which delayed my schooling for a long time. Even after I was completely healed with only the scars to show, I never went to school or was allowed to hang out with kids my own age.
College was going to change all of that for me. Without my dad’s financial backing, however, it wasn’t going to happen. Plus, my dad was probably right when he told me it would be too much. I’ve been homeschooled my whole life and usually only leave home a few times a month to get art supplies and stop by my favorite coffee shop.
I get anxious—sometimes to the point of panic attacks—in crowds, small spaces, open spaces, and, well, pretty much all the time. Diving into the deep end with college would have been overwhelming.
Still, sometimes I wonder if he’ll ever let me go. How will I know if I can fly on my own if my father never lets me spread my wings?
“I’ll call with an update tonight,” Logan grunts out, his eyes finding mine once more. It’s like he can’t help but look at me. I’m not much better; my eyes are drawn to him, too.
He hangs up and slips his phone into his back pocket, then stares at me expectantly.
“A tour!” I blurt out, spinning on my heel and walking through the foyer to the living room. I hear him grunt again as he follows closely behind.
For a big, muscled wall of a man, Logan is surprisingly light on his feet. I suppose being in the Marines and then running a security company taught him how to be stealthy.
I peer over my shoulder because apparently, I can’t help myself. That beard. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before. Well, okay, yes I do. It’s because I was so distracted by the black ink swirling up his arms and his intense blue eyes.
But now that I’m looking...wow. I don’t know why I love the scruffy beard, but I do. An image of his soft lips and scratchy beard trailing down my inner thigh pops into my head and I have to turn away from him.
What is wrong with me?
I’ve never entertained such thoughts. Being stuck at home for the last decade and a half didn’t do me any favors in the relationship department, and I don’t just mean having friends. The only guy I’ve talked to in the last few years, aside from my dad, is Mike from Freshly Brewed. He’s at least a decade older than me and has been nothing but polite, if not a little aloof.
Logan has to be even older than Mike if he served with my dad in the military. That should probably stop my surprisingly dirty thoughts in their tracks, but it only seems to fuel the fire. I like that he’s older. Experienced. Worldly. Maybe life wouldn’t be so scary and overwhelming with someone like Logan by my side.
“Here’s the couch,” I say stupidly, just remembering I’m supposed to be giving him a tour. “Uh, well one of the couches. It’s my favorite because it has a great view of the hummingbird feeder. Did you know hummingbirds are the only birds that can fly backward? How cool is that? The average weight of a hummingbird is less than a nickel and they drink sugar water. That’s probably why they can move so fast.”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from rambling on and on about nothing. No, not nothing; I’m rambling about birds. Logan already thinks I’m an idiot for opening the front door, now he’s going to know I’m a weirdo as well.
It feels good to have someone else to talk to, though. I'm mostly here at the house by myself since Dad has crazy hours at the office and travels a lot for work. I'm hard up for company these days, and my poor bodyguard now has to deal with my over-excitement and rambling stories.
Logan surprises me by stepping closer to the window and looking outside. For a second, I think he’s looking intently at the cute pink hummingbird feeder with rhinestones and ribbons on it. I made it myself and the birds seem to like it.
But then he yanks the large curtains closed, turning back to me with a serious look in his eyes.
“No more standing by open windows,” he declares as if his word is law.
“Excuse me?” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Logan’s eyes dip down, watching the motion for half a second before meeting my gaze again.
“For your safety. We still don’t know much about this guy stalking you and I don’t want to take any chances.”
“Oh.” When he puts it that way, it makes sense. But I still don’t have to like it. I wrap my arms around myself now, no longer defensive. I just want a hug, but I don’t have anyone to give one to me. As lame as it sounds, the birds are my only friends. If I can’t see them, I’ll be all alone.
“Maybe…” Logan’s rough voice trails off and I look up, watching him rub the back of his neck. It seems like a nervous gesture, but I have no idea what someone like Logan would have to be nervous about. “Maybe there’s a window facing the back of the property that would be safer,” he offers.
“Yeah?” I say excitedly, hope blooming in my chest. “The one in my craft room faces the backyard and there’s a high wall and thick forest, so no one can see in.”
Logan’s blue eyes never leave mine. I swear I see them soften ever so much, but maybe I’m just reading into it what I want.
“Show me.” His voice is deep and gravelly, and I feel it travel through my body, sparking my nerve endings.
I nod and spin around again, unsure what to do with these strange feelings he’s bringing out in me. I continue through the living room and down the hallway toward the right wing of our enormous house.
“Um, so this is the right wing of the house,” I say with an unsteady voice, remembering once again I’m supposed to be showing him around. “My rooms are on this side.”
“Rooms?”
“Bedroom, craft room, my office where I do schoolwork, bathroom, and a spare room in case I have a guest.” I snort at the idea of me having a friend who would want to spend the night. Although now I’m glad there’s an extra bedroom for Logan to sleep in. I don’t think I want him very far away from me, especially with all the weird stuff happening lately.