Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Mom was silent, then she bent closer, her voice low. “He is rather dreamy.”
I gaped at her, and a shout of laughter escaped my mouth. She lifted her shoulders. “I am your mother, Lottie, but I have eyes—and a pulse.” She began to laugh with me. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in years. It stirred memories, brought up the love I always carried for my mom, and lightened the intensity around us.
“I’m going to try very hard,” she assured me. “My therapist tells me she has every confidence I can do this.”
“Me too.”
Logan appeared, looking confused. “Everything all right?”
“Yes,” I assured him.
“More tea?”
My mom held up her mug. “I would love some. You make a lovely cup of tea, Logan.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Prescott.”
She waved her hand. “Please, call me Josephine.”
His grin was wide. “All right then, Josephine. I’ll get you that tea.”
I was still reeling hours after my mother left. We had talked more, her insisting Logan stay with us. She apologized to him, and he was gracious when he accepted her obviously sincere words. After she left, Logan had played some new music he was working on for me and sang. Nothing relaxed me as much as his voice. It was going to take a long time before my mom and I had what might be considered a normal relationship—if, in fact, we ever reached that place. But she was trying, and I wanted her in my life. Perhaps we could be friends since the whole mother/daughter thing seemed too unattainable. Too much time and pain had passed for me to imagine that ever happening. But I was determined something positive would come from all of this. Logan had listened to me talk after she left, agreeing with me that we had to go slow and find our way. He carefully reminded me that she was my mother, and given that he had lost his own father, giving her a chance seemed to be the right thing to do.
“She reached out to you,” he reminded me.
“Because of the baby.” I absently rubbed my stomach.
He lifted his shoulders. “All the better. If our child can heal that sort of rift, then I’d say we’re on the right track.” He winked and kissed me. “Our kid is magic.”
I smiled as I thought about his words. Logan saw things in a unique way, but he was right. I studied him, sitting across from me. He was busy jotting a few notes when I spoke up. “My mom thinks you’re ‘dreamy.’”
He chuckled, not looking up. “Does she now?”
“Uh-huh.”
He set aside his guitar and leaned forward, crossing his arms over his knees. “And what does her daughter think?”
“Oh—double dreamy.”
He ran a finger over his mouth, his gaze darkening. “I see. Nice to know. Anything else?”
I pretended to think. “Sweet and wonderful.”
He eased back, extending his arms across the back of the sofa. His chest was bare, the light playing off his muscles, highlighting his form. His nipple ring glinted in the light. He was relaxed and teasing, his gaze filled with adoration—and longing.
“Oh,” I added, suddenly breathless. “Sexy too.”
He met my eyes, the golden, rich whiskey of his boring into mine. I felt my body react to him. I felt so much better today. Lighter, easier. I knew he’d spoken to the doctor more in depth about sex. It had amused me watching the tips of his ears go red as he tried to be nonchalant in his queries. This bold, confident man embarrassed about wanting to have sex with me and worried about hurting me at the same time. It only made me love him more.
“Lottie,” he murmured. “You need to rest.”
“Logan,” I replied. “I need you more.” I batted my eyelashes. “I can rest after.”
His eyes began to darken even more. “No more sofa antics.”
I could work with that—at least the sofa antics that involved anal sex. For now. But I wanted him.
“Our bed is pretty comfy.” I pulled on the loose neck of the T-shirt I was wearing.
That did it. He stood and scooped me into his arms, carrying me down the hall. “Our bed. You had to say that, didn’t you?”
I gripped his shoulders and kissed his neck, breathing him in. “Worked, didn’t it?”
He settled me on the mattress, hovering over me.
“Yeah, baby, it worked. Now, lose the shirt.”
I lasted three days before I was bored out of my mind. Logan was busy, yet stayed close, checking in on me often if he was out. I slept the entire first day, and by the afternoon of the second day, I felt perfectly fine—my energy level high, my mind clear, and the constant disconnect I had been experiencing gone. I felt like Lottie—but better. The last time I had felt this good was when I was off for a week of holidays with Brianna three years ago. It boggled my mind that was the last time I had taken time off. Before that, it was the few days I needed to make the wedding cake. Otherwise, I was at the office every day.