I don’t think I’ve ever been in a cleaner, more orderly room in my life. My craft room must give the man a headache. I can’t remember the last time I organized my drawers and bins of supplies.
Aside from tense and orderly, I can sense that Logan is lonely. He’d never admit that, of course, but I recognize it all the same. I’ve been lonely for most of my life, but being with Logan makes me feel...seen. I hope I make him feel the same way, but Logan only has two facial expressions, stern and neutral, so it’s hard to tell.
Sunlight peeks through the yellow curtains in my room, though it’s still faint. I roll over and look at my phone. Six thirty in the morning. Not too bad, considering the first night Logan was here I didn’t sleep at all.
I flop over onto my back and pull the covers over my head, but it’s no use. The longer I stay in bed, the more I’m going to think about how much I wish Logan were here with me. And that’s not going to help my situation whatsoever.
Sighing, I throw the covers off and sit on the edge of my bed, rubbing the sleep away from my eyes. I might as well make the most of my new early morning schedule if this is going to be a regular thing.
After throwing on a pair of leggings and a baggy sweatshirt, I decide to head to my craft room and work on a collage. I dig through a drawer filled with old magazines and pick out a few winners, then gather the rest of my supplies.
Ten minutes later, I have a poster board, Sharpies, glitter, glue, and a myriad of other embellishments. Whenever I’m feeling uninspired or stuck creatively, making a collage always seems to help. I’m hoping it will distract me from my decidedly dirty thoughts about the totally off-limits man sleeping two doors down.
I look up, noticing two cute little chickadees eating breakfast from my bird feeder right outside the window. Logan approved the blinds to be open in this room. He even surprised me by collecting my ten bird feeders around the property and placing them out back where I could still see them.
I’m not sure how he knew I loved my birds so much and would miss them if I couldn’t see them every day. Maybe I’m not the only one who has been paying attention these last few days.
Getting up from my chair, I wipe my glitter-covered hands on my ratty old sweatshirt and head to the window to greet my guests.
“Hello, friends,” I say softly, even though I know they can’t hear me through the window. I realize I sound like a crazy person, or perhaps a pathetic person, but I owe a lot to my feathered friends. They’ve been here for me on some pretty dark days.
The cute little birds look up from the feeder. The female tilts her head to the side and looks at me before going back to her breakfast. The male chirps happily a few times, making me smile.
“Good morning to you, too, mister. Aren’t you handsome?”
Just then, the door to my craft room swings open and bangs against the wall.
“Who the hell are you talking to?” Logan bellows.
I gasp and spin around, but my foot gets caught in one of the skeins of yarn I left out yesterday. I flail my arms out as I start to go down. Logan somehow appears right next to me, his strong arms gripping my shoulders as he hauls me up and steadies me.
I crane my head way back and look up into those piercing blue eyes. It’s the first time we’ve looked at each other directly since his first night here and God...how is he more attractive now than he was then? I’m definitely going to be having naughty dreams about him tonight.
Just like that first day when he asked about my paintings, Logan studies every single thing about me, though his eyes never leave mine. I’m all too aware of the fact that his hands are still on my shoulders. They slowly slide down my arms, tickling my skin along the way, even through the sweatshirt I’m wearing.
My lips part on their own, and I find myself leaning into him. Logan dips his head, his hands still making their way down my arms until I feel his fingers wrap around my wrists. They stop just short of touching my skin, almost like he doesn’t trust himself to take things any further.
Crazy, I know. There’s no way this sexy beast is into someone like me. He’s older, experienced, rough around the edges, and exudes control and authority. Not to mention I’m sure he breaks hearts and melts panties wherever he goes.
But the way he's looking at me right now, I'd almost think…
Logan clears his throat and drops his hands from my arms, taking a step back. He lifts one hand to rub the back of his neck—a nervous gesture I’ve seen him do a few times over the last few days—but then stops.
“What the…” He holds one hand out and then the other, palms up. “What is this?”
Logan stares at his hands, which are covered in the glitter I wiped off my own hands a few moments ago.
“Glitter,” I say as if it’s obvious.
He looks up at me, then back down at his hands. “Where did you get it?”
I try to hold back my grin, but it’s too big. “From right here,” I reply, pointing to the five containers of glitter on my table.
He grunts, studying the different colors. “I didn’t know you could buy it like that.”
My grin turns into a full-on cheesy smile. My big, bearded bodyguard has sparkly hands and looks bewildered by the loose glitter I purchased for three bucks at the local craft store.
“How do you normally buy your glitter?” I ask, feeling sassy. I don’t know where it comes from, but I like teasing him.
Logan turns his head so he’s looking right at me. And then his lips spread into the most beautiful, playful smile in the world. The intense features of his face soften. Even his eyes seem to change from cold to warm, like the ice is starting to melt.
“Can’t say I’ve ever purchased glitter in any form, but when I do, I’ll make sure to call and get your opinion.”
I can’t help but giggle. The thought of Logan in a craft store, talking to me on the phone while poring over the glitter options is both silly and sweet.
He gets another new, strange look on his face, though this one is harder to place. “What?” I ask self-consciously.
"I like your laugh." His eyes go wide, and I think he's about as shocked at his admission as I am.
“Thanks,” I whisper. “I think I’d like yours, too.”
Logan stares at me for a second, then opens his mouth. He closes it again, then furrows his brow and shakes his head. He takes another step back from me, and my heart sinks. Did I do something wrong?
He mumbles something about washing his hands, then hightails it out of the room.
Well, crap. I’ve run away from him twice, and now that he’s done the same, I must say I don’t like it. Not one bit.
5
Logan
“Fuck,” I mutter to myself as I scrub pink and purple glitter off my hands.
I shouldn’t have scared her. I shouldn’t have held her. I shouldn’t have stared into those deep brown eyes. I definitely shouldn’t have let her know how intoxicating she is by just breathing the same air as me, let alone blessing me with her laughter.
But I can’t help it.
I was getting dressed when I heard Spencer tell someone good morning and call them handsome. Anger and jealousy choked me up and dragged me out of the room, down the hall, until I burst into her craft room and scared the shit out of her.