by Elise Faber
“Moonlight isn’t going to cut it.” He ran his hand up and down her back.
“Cupcake?”
“Nope.”
“Comet?”
Another snort. “No way.”
“Candlelight?”
“Are you sticking with the letter C?”
“Not intentionally.” She yawned. “Speedy?”
“Are you trying to insult me?”
Her chuckle slid over his skin. “No,” she said, “and you’re right. Speedy definitely won’t work. How about Lamb Chop?”
“Starlight,” he growled.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Thank you for needing me, for inviting me into your life. And thank you for giving me these last eight years.” She pressed her palm onto his chest. “I feel so lucky to have had the opportunity and a man who’d give up everything for me.”
He covered her hand with his own, throat tight. “I want to have all the fancy, romantic words, sweetheart, but none of them come remotely close to being good enough. Just know you’re in my blood, my soul. You’re burned into my DNA, the marrow of my bones.” He held her tightly, stroked a hand down her spine. “You’re my heart, Starlight.”
“You did fine with the romantic words, baby.”
“I like baby,” he murmured, and yawned, the last twenty-four hours plus catching up with him.
“I like you,” she said softly before ordering, “Now sleep.”
He let his eyes slide closed on another order he didn’t mind following, happy in the knowledge that these were probably the first of many orders from the Harris women in his life and not giving a damn in the least.
Starlight had filled him from the inside out.
A week later, after he and Char had flown back to California, after they’d woken up to find the house empty, his mother at work, his father who knew where, Logan got a text.
The first two words made his heart sink.
Your mother . . .
Fuck.
He hadn’t heard a word from his parents since that blow-up, and now it appeared that nothing had changed.
Tossing the phone onto the counter in disgust, he went back to meal prepping.
Char was going to a self-defense class that night, but the next day they were finally going up to his cabin. He was endeavoring to pull together enough palatable food that she would want to come back.
“Hey, baby.”
Arms wrapped around him from behind, lush breasts pressing to his spine, sending heat arrowing to his groin.
“Hi, Starlight.”
“You’re slaving away in the kitchen while I go to work?” She pressed a kiss to his back. “Just as it should be.”
He spun and took her in his arms. “Just for that, more river walks for you.”
“Oh, the horror,” she teased. “I have to spend time with the man I love.”
“In nature,” he said. “You have to spend time in nature with the man you love.”
A shrug. “I’m starting to see that some nature is okay.”
“Oh?”
“I like the big . . .” Her lips curved. “Trees.”
He snorted, nuzzled a kiss to her throat . . . just as his phone buzzed again.
“Oh, that’s your cell,” Char said, slipping out of his arms. “Let me grab it for you.”
“I—”
But she’d already picked it up, her eyes widening when she caught a glimpse of the screen.
“Log—”
“It’s okay,” he said, turning back to the food. “I can’t control them. They’ll make their own decisions.” But his gut had sunk at those words, at the notion that nothing would ever change.
Nothing except him.
Because he wasn’t going to be drawn in again.
“Baby.”
“I’m fine, Starlight.”
“Baby.”
The urgency in her tone had him spinning back around. “What?”
“Look.”
“I don’t need—”
She stepped close and shoved the phone in his face. “Look.”
Your mother found a therapist. We’re going next week.
The second message was the buzz that Char had heard, and it said, quite simply:
I’m sorry.
His lungs froze just as another message came through. This one was from his mother, and the words made the organs unstick, his heart squeeze hard. Because it didn’t start with Your father is.
Instead, it read,
I love you. I’m sorry. I’ll do better.
“Progress,” Char murmured.
“Yes,” he said, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “Honestly, I’m a little shocked they’ve decided to go to therapy.”
“I’m not.”
He lifted a brow.
“They love you.”
He lifted the other.
“You’re worth someone making the effort, Logan,” she said. “They can see they’re hurting you, and both know it needs to stop.” Her fingers traced his jaw. “But more than that, I think—I hope they’re finally understanding that their relationship is worth just as much.” She kissed him. “Otherwise, what’s the point?”
“The more important point is that I love you.”
Her lips curved. “Yeah?”
He kissed her. “Yeah.”
“Good”—she nodded at the food laid out on the counter—“then get back to cooking, wench.”
Logan burst out laughing, and because he couldn’t resist, he kissed the woman who held his heart again, kissed the mischief off her lips, swallowed her giggles, tasted the love on her tongue.
And then he got back into the kitchen while she went to work.
As one did.
Epilogue
Part One
Char, Three Months Later
She closed her laptop in disgust and glared over at her family, who were gathered around the island in her kitchen.
Which had never smelled so good.
Definitely not when she and Logan had begun expanding their cooking repertoire. Speaking of which, they were up to three whole recipes they could consistently make without threatening her smoke detectors.
But that wasn’t what had her filled with disgust.
“That blog post is absolutely ridiculous.” The sports blog had sounded more gossip site than real sports news reporting—detailing every moment of their “romantic night out” and how besotted she and Logan were.
Yes, they’d actually used the word besotted.
Ugh.
Will poked her in the arm when she fell silent, pondering her ability to learn some hacking skills in order to take the drivel down. “You upset because the title is BAMF Harris tags Walker?”
She shuddered. “No, I don’t mind being called a badass mf-er,” she said, slanting a look at her grandmother, who was apparently enthralled by her solitaire game.
But Char knew from personal experience that her grandma had big ears.
“Then what, Starlight?” Logan asked, running his fingers down her arm.
“They’re saying I tagged you, but you’re the one who came after me.”
“I had to,” he said. “I know my stubborn Harris women—”
“Hey!” Amelia and her mom said at once, though both of their faces softened when Logan turned his charming smile on them.
Double ugh.
Mostly because that charming smile worked on her, too.
She glanced back at Logan, wrinkled her nose, and . . . pressed a kiss to his mouth. “I love you,” she murmured against his lips, “even if you’re a pain in my ass.”
He just grinned and then went back to the counter where her mom had set him to shucking corn for the vegetable salad he was learning how to make. God, he was pretty, especially all ready for the season, his diet plan locked in and his body . . . her thighs clenched because there were definite perks to him getting into tip-top shape.
Six-packs and strong thighs. Hip bones and biceps she wanted to lick like a popsicl
e.
She was drooling over him so intently that she didn’t realize the room had gone quiet at first.
Not until her grandmother said, “Well, are you going to open it or not?”
Blinking, she tore her gaze from Log and glanced over at her grandma. “Open what?”
Amelia nudged her, nodded at the counter. “Char-Char.”
A box.
There was a box in front of her. A box with a card that had her name on the envelope. A name that was written in Logan’s handwriting.
She looked at him, but he was still deliberately shucking corn.
So, she reached for the envelope.
Will groaned. “Why? Open the big box in front of you!”
Char smiled even though her heart was pounding. “This is my box, and I say I’m going to open the envelope first.” She tore open the flap, lips curving at the short note.
For keeping you on even footing during the season.
-L
Amelia snagged it from her before she’d barely processed the words, passing it to Will and then her dad. Char hardly noticed.
Because she was working on the box.
Slitting open one side.
Tearing the paper off.
Opening the white cardboard lid.
Her mom whistled long and low.
Char was feeling the same upon looking at the contents of the box. Sexy, red heels with just the faintest hint of glitter in their fabric, small twinkling stars that both took her breath away and threatened to have her heart pounding out of her chest.
Her eyes flew to Logan’s, and he winked.
“Love you, Starlight.”
Another nudge from Amelia, and annoyed at her for intruding on the moment, she glared at her sister. “What?”
“There’s another box,” Amelia said.
Her heart went well beyond pounding. Now, it was stampeding in her chest, threatening to burst free.
Because there was another box.
A small box.
Her fingers shook as she reached for it, but Logan beat her to the punch, snagging it from where it had been nestled between the gorgeous heels and opening it as he knelt in front of her.
It sparkled.
Just like his eyes.
“What do you say, Starlight?” he asked softly. “Will you keep me around even though I currently hold the Chubby Bunny championship title?”
“Because you cheated!” she exclaimed, jumping up.
He stood and caught her around the waist, lips twitching. “We’ll have a rematch,” he promised, “so long as you answer the question.”
“I didn’t hear a question.”
Lips on her cheek, near her ear. “Technically, there were two in that. But not the most important one.” He straightened, cupped her jaw. “I love you to the stars and back, and you’re in my heart until it stops beating.” Soft fingers on her cheek, wiping a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. “Will you marry me?”
“Will you admit you cheated at Chubby Bun—”
“Char!” her family yelled in unison.
She threw her arms around Logan’s neck and kissed him until her lungs burned. “Yes, baby,” she whispered when they pulled away. “I’ll marry you.”
“Thank God for that,” her grandma said.
The room filled with laughter. Love and laughter and happiness that was all tangled up. It was complicated and messy and reported about on sports blogs . . . and Char couldn’t care less.
Because she was building her family.
Epilogue
Part Two
Dani
Shy.
She was painfully shy.
Great with tech. Horrible with people.
But that was okay, because her job was tech. As video coach for the Gold, her livelihood depended on how well she could interact with the tech around her.
That tech currently consisted of multiple monitors on her office wall, a desktop, a laptop, and a trio of tablets. She actually had a dozen tablets at her disposal, but the rest were currently being used by the coaching staff.
The Gold had just finished their third game of the season, and though she wouldn’t say her job got lighter as the season progressed, this time in particular was dizzying.
There were new players to get up to speed.
Changes to the system that needed to be addressed.
Specific plays the coaches wanted highlighted.
And she was down her assistant, who was out with the stomach flu, and an intern, who’d lied on his resume and couldn’t actually isolate and/or edit video.
Video. Coach.
Both of those were important—okay, both were critical to her job.
But, crying over spilled milk and all that. Dani didn’t have time for, not when she had enough work for three people and only one person to do it.
She focused on the screen in front of her and began transferring the video.
Then turned and focused on the next one, repeating the process.
Once the third one was complete, she gathered the tablets, pushed out of her chair and hurried into the hall.
Unfortunately, she hurried without looking.
Unfortunately, because the tablets she’d been holding tumbled from her hands, hitting the ground with a sickening crunch. Yes, they had protective covers. No, she didn’t normally launch them at concrete floors.
Also unfortunately, because she crashed into a giant muscled mass of a sweaty man. He was tall and blond and too fucking pretty for her mental well-being, especially with gentle gray eyes sliding to hers.
A sliver of heat slid through her stomach.
Oh, no.
That would not do.
Tearing her eyes away, she dropped to her knees and picked up the first tablet she could reach, running her finger over the screen and checking for damage.
“Do you stroke everything so carefully?”
Desire coated her spine in honey, filled her throat with cotton.
She glanced up, saw that he’d crouched next to her, and in an instant, was lost again in his eyes, the pale gray of the sky hinting at a thunderstorm.
Storm.
Well, that was fitting, considering the storm that had awakened in her the first time she’d seen this man. Through her monitor, just after he’d joined the team. Tall and big and yet somehow still graceful, even despite the beard and the tattoo peeking out of the collar of his jersey. He’d reminded her of a giant grizzly bear, something any smart human had to fight the urge to not cuddle with.
Fluffy, but would tear a woman to shreds with those razor-sharp claws.
“No,” she said simply and reached for the next tablet, doing a visual scan this time instead of any stroking. When it looked okay, she thrust it at him, at Ethan Rogers, at the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on. “Here. This is the one Calle wanted you to have.”
“No stroking?” he said, almost lazily, taking the tablet from her with a slow brush of his fingers.
More heat—sparking up her arms, sliding down her torso, pooling in her stomach.
Her words stoppered up in the back of her throat.
She shook her head.
“Dani?” he asked, still crouching next to her. The smell of spice and male should have been off-putting. Instead, it was tempting, drawing her in like catnip, but she couldn’t look up at him, not even when he stayed still, stayed near, clearly waiting for her to speak or meet his gaze.
One rough finger brushed the back of her hand.
Gasping, her eyes flew up, collided with his. Her heart absolutely pounded, but other than that single touch, he didn’t make any other moves to close the distance between them.
“Why don’t you like me?”
Her jaw dropped open. Why didn’t she like him? Dani drooled after Ethan on a regular basis, she had dreams about him, had named her favorite vibrator after him.
See? Good with tech.
People—including the gorgeous man all of two feet away—horrible.
&
nbsp; But what could she say? It wasn’t like she was going to share the name of her vibrator. Hell, she might as well be honest, she wasn’t going to share anything. This is what she did.
She got shy. She got quiet. She came off as a royal bitch.
“Y-you’re fine,” she finally managed, reaching for the last tablet, intending to find a way to bolt, to end her misery and GTFO.
But he stood when she did, those gray irises dancing with mirth. “Fine?”
“I—uh—” Her cheeks burned, and worse, she felt tears prickle at the backs of her eyes.
Ugh. She hated that she did this, too.
Pushing past him, she tried to bolt.
“Hey,” he said, catching her arm. “Hey. I’m just teasing.”
She shrugged, stepped away. “Okay.”
A soft chuckle. “I actually came to find you.”
Her heart pounded. He’d come to find her? What universe was she currently living in?
“I wanted to ask you a question—”
Ah. This was how all of these conversations began. They came. They needed help with their TV or laptop or cell phone. Ethan, she guessed, would need laptop help. He looked like he could handle a cell or a television.
And no, don’t ask her how she knew what he needed help with, okay? She’d been to this rodeo many a time before. Dani’s tech guru-ness was a gift that had been bestowed upon her at birth . . . okay, fine, it had been honed by many lonely preteen and teenage years.
“I can fix your computer,” she said, trying to pretend that she wasn’t miserable at the prospect, that she didn’t want someone to come to her for once for some other reason.
She wouldn’t know what to do with them if they did.
“What?”
Perhaps, her guru skills were out of practice. She hadn’t been hit up too often since she’d joined the Gold.
“You need help with your phone?”
He frowned, shook his head. “No.”
“Your TV?”
“No, Dani,” Ethan said on a husky laugh, and she ignored the prickles of desire trailing over her skin.
“Okay.” She turned away.