More, Please (19 page)

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” I
ask her.

Her eyes widen. I’m generally not a
conversation-during-sex kind of guy, but I need to know that she sees herself
the way I see her.

She shakes her head slightly. “Never
really thought of myself as beautiful before. Cute, maybe. But not beautiful.”

“You are. That first time I saw you in
the bar. You were chatting with the bartender, laughing at something he said,
and all I could think was, ‘I want to make her smile like that.’ It’s like I
had never seen anything so sincere in my life. Your eyes sparkle when you do,
and the smile isn’t just on your face, but in your whole body. The way you hold
yourself, leaning into people as they talk as though what they’re saying actually
means something to you. The way your brow arches a little as you listen, and
then that look of surprise when you laugh, as though it’s the best damn feeling
in the world and that everyone should laugh with you.”

I sound like a fucking pussy, and I’m
glad my brothers will never hear this. But when I feel her tighten up around my
cock again, getting slicker by the second, I can tell that at least
she
appreciates what I’m saying.

“I’m glad you didn’t come into my room
that night. I’d never want just a one-night-stand with you, Allie. I
want—” I nearly say it. I nearly say forever, but I catch myself. The
last thing I want to do is make a promise to her that I can’t keep.

Or could I? I’m not a SEAL anymore. I can
go anywhere I want, live where I please. I have nothing pulling me away from
Newton’s Creek and one good thing pulling me to stay.

“What do you want?” she asks, prodding me
on.

How do I answer that? How do I tell her
the truth without making promises?

“More. I want more,” I tell her, sliding
deep inside her, slowing, even as the clock on the nightstand tells us to hurry.
I won’t rush this moment. I’ll savor it as long as she’ll let me.

~ ALLIE ~

I’ve sunken into Logan’s sheets and I’m
not sure if I’ll ever get up. Logan’s showering and I already did the same—my
second shower of the day and a pretty quick one, considering we’re running late
now for his parent’s dinner. But I’m still naked on top of his bed, unable to
get the strength to get dressed.

I feel the tug of sleep pull me in, till I
hear the buzz of Logan’s phone go off next to me on the nightstand.

I didn’t intend to see the message that
popped up. I’ll swear to my dying day that I was just glancing that way to see
what time it was. But I’m looking at it now, and it’s got my stomach in knots.

“I’ve still got a crab cake and a flute
of champagne with your name on it. You better be there.”

I wouldn’t think too much about the
message. Really, I wouldn’t. But the tiny photo displayed next to the name
“Maeve” has me instantly feeling small and homely.

She’s gorgeous. Someone much more
suitable for a guy like Logan.

And she’s invited him to some fancy
dinner.

I shake off the feelings of jealousy as
he steps out of the bathroom with a smile. A smile for me. Not for Maeve.

She is probably just some old girlfriend,
reaching out to him with the hopes of reconciliation. Who could blame her?

My brow creases, remembering. Wasn’t that
the name of his interior designer friend? So it might be completely innocent.

It might be.

I act like there’s nothing wrong as I get
ready for dinner. I know he sees I’m nervous, but considering I’m meeting his
parents for the first time, I’m reasonably justified.

“You’re late, bro.” Ryan’s eyes are
narrow on his brother as we finally walk up the front pathway that leads to
double entry doors. I’m beyond intimidated by their house. It’s borderline
palatial, like one of those homes I see on design shows on TV, the kind that
makes you want to take your shoes off at the door and speak in hushed, reverent
tones.

“I am,” Logan answers.

“Nice to see you again, Allie. Hannah is
out back with my dad playing badminton. She’ll be so happy to see you.”

I almost crack a smile at Ryan’s tone. He
always seems to speak as though we are in a business meeting. Even at Buckeye Land,
he looked like he was sizing the place up for a hostile takeover. He would intimidate
the hell out of me if I hadn’t also seen the way he is with Hannah.

“I can’t wait to see her, too,” I reply as
I see Logan’s mother approach.

“Allie!” Her arms are outstretched and
she envelops me in a maternal hug.

My heart feels a tug, the feel of her
arms around me making me miss my mother, and I make a mental note to call her
first thing in the morning.

“Welcome to our home,” she says as we
step inside. The soft, silver hair framing her face seems to showcase her
striking blue eyes—the same eyes as I see on Logan. Her face is stunning,
but not flawless by any means. She seems to have embraced her age with such
dignity, and because of it, she looks all the younger and more beautiful for
it.

I want to be like her when I grow up.

“Thank you so much for having me,” I tell
her.

“You couldn’t be more welcome. I don’t
think I’ve ever known Logan to bring a girl home to us since he was sixteen. So
you must be someone really special.”

“Mom,” I hear Logan protest as his
brother laughs behind him. It’s funny how a mother can turn a hardened SEAL
warrior into a shame-faced little boy.

“Logan!”

Another man approaches us from the back
door. I recognize Dylan from the picture Logan showed me and all I can think is
how this family won the genetic lottery when it comes to looks. He’s an inch or
two shorter than Logan, but broader in the chest, even though I didn’t think
that was possible. His hair seems golden compared to Logan and Ryan’s darker
hair, but his eyes are the same piercing blue.

Logan gives his brother a hug. “Damn, Dylan,
you get bigger every time I see you. You gain any more muscle and how will I
kick your ass next time you cheat at poker?”

“It’s that new equipment I got in the gyms.
It’s sick, Logan. You’d love it, if you’d ever get your ass to one of my gyms
to try it out.” He glances my way and extends his hand. “You must be Allie. Hannah’s
been chatting you up quite a bit in the backyard. I think she’s your biggest
fan.”

“Second biggest fan,” Logan counters,
wrapping his arms around my waist. “How about I get you a glass of wine, baby?”

I nearly have to resuscitate myself from
his use of an endearment like that in front of his family. I glance over at the
kitchen table and see another glass of wine and a couple bottles of beer
sitting unattended.
So long as I’m not the only one drinking.
“Yes, that
would be nice. Thanks.” I sound a little breathless—must be because I’ve
never been around so many handsome men in my life, and certainly never been
able to go home with the hottest one of the group.

I try to not let my eyes wander around
the room as I am talking to his mother about my dog rescue. But it’s hard. The
living room is lavish, with stunning oil paintings showcased by recessed
lighting, a few sculptures displayed on built-in shelving, and a jaw-dropping stacked
stone fireplace as the centerpiece of the room.

I hear a chuckle coming from the back
entrance and I bite my lip as I see Logan’s dad approach, being dragged by his
granddaughter.

“My granddaughter says there’s some kind
of hero here in our house.” He extends his hand to me as Hannah lunges toward
me with a hug. “Jake Sheridan, Allie. Splendid to meet you.”

Logan’s father is strikingly handsome
with the same wide jaw and sculpted cheekbones as his sons. Though his smile is
genuine, I can’t imagine having to face down this man in a boardroom or at a
business meeting. He has the same intimidating look as Ryan, even in his polo
shirt and crisp khaki-colored pants. But his voice, his stature, his air of
command reminds me of Logan.

My heart is touched with sympathy for
this man at the thought of him facing a diagnosis of vascular dementia. I’ve
known him a matter of seconds, yet I can already tell that the idea of being
helpless or dependent would be unacceptable to a man like him.

I try to focus on his smile as we talk,
pushing back the image of his future. Logan is right. He is a charmer,
listening to me talk about my dogs as though my tiny nonprofit is as
significant to this town as JLS Heartland.

We eat barbeque ribs on the back porch,
and I can’t resist helping myself to another scoop of mashed potatoes. Logan’s
mother—Anna, she asked that I call her—makes them with some of the
skin left on and a hint of roasted garlic bringing the flavor to a whole new
level.

We play badminton for a while, and Ryan,
Hannah, and I catch fireflies while Logan talks to his parents on the back
porch. I can tell I’m the topic of the conversation from the way he is looking
at me, and he blows me a kiss that takes my breath away.

Logan, his brothers, and I step into the
living room while his parents stay with Hannah, who has dozed off on the porch
swing. They talk sports and I pretend to show an interest for a while until I retreat
to the kitchen to refill my drink.

As I return, I catch Ryan talking to
Logan. “The papers should be signed this week,” he says gravely. “So I’ll tell
her next weekend.”

Logan nods stoically while Dylan gives Ryan
a swift thump on the shoulder.

“That’s good. It’ll be hard. But it’s
good.”

Ryan is nodding, but looking unconvinced.
“Logan, can I have Maeve’s number? I was thinking I’d do something to Hannah’s
room. Really make it special—like a fairy castle theme to sort of soften
the blow.”

“Good idea, Ryan. She’ll do right by you.
And can probably do it all by remote.” Logan pulls out his phone. “I’m texting
you her contact info.” He sees me approach, and slides his hand lightly along
my arm as I return to my seat next to him.

Dylan flashes a smile. “Logan, how the
hell did you get so lucky? You know there are only about twelve single women in
Newton’s Creek, don’t you?”

And just like that, the mood in the room
brightens.

***

 “They adored you,” Logan says as he
joins me in his truck. He touches my hand lightly and my skin sizzles with
awareness. I can’t wait to be alone with him.

“Do you really think so?”

“I know so.”

I bite my lower lip. “Can I ask you
something?”

“Shoot.”

“What was Ryan talking about after Hannah
fell asleep? Something about needing a designer for her room. Softening the
blow of something?”

Logan nods slowly. “Hannah’s mom is
remarrying. She decided she doesn’t want Hannah to live with them.”

“Why not?”

“Tired of her, she says. Hannah is a bit
of a handful. Adriana says she’s tired of the complaints from the school.
Teacher meetings. Doctor visits.”

“What a bitch,” I fire off without
hesitation, and then cringe at my tone. “I mean, sorry—I don’t mean to be
judgmental. But she doesn’t really sound like a prize of a mom.”

“She’s not. She says she wants to have
more kids with this new guy. Start fresh.”

“Holy crap.”

“No kidding. Personally, I’m happy that
Hannah is moving in permanently with Ryan, but it’ll be hard on her, settling in.
And the kid has enough self esteem problems without her mom making her feel
unwelcome. But in the long run, I think it will be for the best. Ryan’s scared
shitless about it, though. He works killer hours, you know. Has to travel a lot
to job sites in different states. Not sure how he’ll juggle being a CEO and a full-time
dad.”

“If he needs help, I’m around a lot since
I work from home.”

He takes my hand and gives me a squeeze.
“Thanks. That will mean a lot to him.”

Frowning, I bite my lip again, working up
the nerve. “Can I ask you something else?”

“’Course.”

“The designer you mentioned. She’s the
one that decorated your place, too, right?”

“Yeah. Maeve.”

“So she’s a friend?”

“Good friend. You’d like her.”

I’m not so sure.

“Why not?”

Oh, shit. I said that aloud?

“I mean… oh, I don’t know what I mean.” I
sigh in defeat. I’m so insecure.

He glances over at me. “Wait a sec? Are
you jealous?”

Caught. “I’m just—ugh. How do I say
this? I saw a text come in from her on your phone. I didn’t read it, of course.
Just saw the first line or two, you know, because it pops up. Something about
having a crab cake dinner with your name on it.”

He laughs. Hard. So hard that the shame
I’m feeling at my jealousy is getting edged out by annoyance. “Hey. I can be as
jealous as the next girl. And I saw her little photo pop up by the text. She’s
freaking gorgeous. How am I supposed to feel?”

He’s still laughing. At a stoplight, he
pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Pull up the texts from Maeve.”

“I’m not going to snoop in your phone.”

“Do it.”

I roll my eyes. I’m humiliated enough. He
doesn’t need to make me feel worse. I tap on the texting icon and see her photo
in contacts. Her model-like features have my stomach churning as I tap on her
face and pull up a recent conversation.

“Scroll up a little bit.”

I do as he says, and see another photo
that she sent him.

“Open that one.”

I do it and—holy crap, who is that
hot guy with her? They look like some kind of Hollywood couple. Her, with her
perfect hair and features, and eyes that could stop traffic. And him, with his
pecs poking out of his t-shirt as he rows a tandem kayak. No, they don’t look
like a Hollywood couple. They look like what a Hollywood couple
wishes
they looked like.

“Who’s he?” I ask, still staring at the
phone.

“Her husband. Love of her life. Man she
was destined to marry since birth, I’m thinking. And also a fellow Sailor. We
served at the Naval Academy together.”

“Oh. I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t. I’m actually kind of touched that
you’d get jealous like that. It means you don’t want me to date other women,
which by the way, I have no inclination to do.”

My heart goes pit-a-pat. Either that, or
I’ve developed a heart murmur.

“Me neither,” I quickly tell him.

“Good. You’d actually like Maeve. She’s
one of those people that everyone loves. She doesn’t have friends. Everyone is
family to her, you know? She’s been harassing me about a wedding invitation.”

“Who’s getting married?”

“Her friend Bess. I met her a couple times.
She’s a sweet kid. Quiet. Engaged to an Army guy. I think she has a little
girl.”