by Watson, Gina
Logan asked for a second piece of pie, and she served it up, smiling. “It was nice seeing him play with you. I’ve never watched him interact so positively with a man.”
Of course, she didn’t really let many men that close to Michael. A catch-22, to be sure, since she didn’t want Michael growing attached to a man who wouldn’t be in his life for long, but at the same time he needed men in his life to learn how to be a man himself. He bummed around with some of her staff at La Bella Luna, but they had their own families, and Jessie didn’t want to impose on their good natures. When they came to work, they didn’t want to be bothered by the owner’s son.
Logan smiled at her. “He’s a fun kid.”
Jessie covered the pie, fussing with the aluminum. “I’ve said this before but if you don’t plan on staying around, you might figure that out sooner rather than later before he gets too attached to you.” She looked up, her gaze intent on Logan. “If this was just about me…”Was she pushing too hard, too soon? But she had to lay it all out before either of them got in too deep. “Tell me you won’t hurt him.”
He cupped her face in his palms and used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the tears she was doing her best to ignore. She liked Logan, really wanted to see if they had a chance at a relationship, even if it was to be only a sexual one. But Michael had to come first. She couldn’t sacrifice his well-being for hers.
“Hey, you have a lot of steadfast devotion toward your son. Every child should be so lucky. I can’t promise you I will always be here, because no one can make a promise like that and no one can predict the future. You and I both know that all too well.” His lips tightened before he added, “What I can promise you is this: I’ll stay as mindful of Michael’s needs as I am of yours, treating you both with respect and care for as long as this, whatever this turns out to be, lasts. We’re just getting started here, Jessie. We may discover that this isn’t going to work. But that’s no reason not to explore. I don’t think I can promise more than that, not yet. And I don’t think you can expect me to.”
Well, he’d turned her demand back on her. But he was right. They couldn’t make forever promises, not yet. Her face heated as she imagined what he thought of her pushiness.
She shook it off and grabbed his hand tugging him toward the swings. She took a seat in one of the plastic seats and said, “Push me.” He pushed her slow at first but then he was pushing so hard she had to hold on with all her strength until she felt steely arms lace around her waist and pull her from the seat. They fell onto the grass laughing, face to face, on their sides. When they caught their breaths the laughing quieted and they exchanged a heated look. Jessie leaned in and sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. Using her tongue she tasted him and became lost in the heat of his mouth, the taste of apple cinnamon lingered on his tongue. His hand fisted her hair and he matched her thrusts and explored her with equal vigor. They broke apart and had to catch their breaths again, this time for different reasons.
As she stared into his green eyes she wondered what he’d meant when he’d said they both knew all too well. She wanted to ask, but his face had skewed into a sad frown, and she didn’t want to pry. He’d lost somebody. A girlfriend?
Michael interrupted their intimate moment and invited Logan to stay for dinner. He related his big plans of watching a new DVD animated film that was one of his favorites.
“Sounds great, what are we having?” Logan asked.
They both looked to Jessie with raised brows.
“Well, all I have is mac and cheese and fish sticks, and even I won’t eat that. Do you want to order something?”
Logan gestured to Michael. “He invited me for dinner. I want a home-cooked meal. Shall we go to the supermarket?”
His warm smile melted the half-decade of ice around Jessie’s heart.
Once inside the grocery store Logan said, “I’m thinking we can rule out pasta and bar food.”
Jessie agreed wholeheartedly, giving him a thumbs-up.
“That leaves, chicken, seafood, salad, sandwiches.” Logan shrugged as he ticked off the list on his fingers. Jessie wrinkled her nose. “So no sandwiches.” Logan snapped his fingers. “Fajitas!”
“Yum! You’ve got my vote.”
They rushed through their shopping but drove leisurely home, Logan’s hand resting warmly on Jessie’s thigh as they took the scenic route. Michael was quiet in the back, humming softly, his eyes closing as he fought sleep.
They worked side by side in the kitchen while Michael took his nap. Logan cut up strips of meat and applied his special marinade, which he wouldn’t let Jessie see. Meanwhile, Jessie made guacamole and salsa.
Logan announced, “Meat is marinating. What’s next?”
“Margaritas?”
“Excellent choice, Miss Hunter.”
She pointed to a cabinet. “The blender’s in there. You’ll find the tequila behind it.”
He pulled out the necessary items. “Patron. Whoa, the good stuff.”
“And don’t be stingy with that.”
With a twinkle in his eye he said, “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
She smiled. “Maybe.”
Once the food was prepared, they set up a buffet-style line with fajitas and all the fixin’s and Logan started the pour on their third margaritas.
Logan regaled Jessie with a story from his childhood. The alcohol in his system made him highly animated, and she was enjoying his storytelling.
“So Camp bets Cash he can’t drink the entire pitcher of salsa the waitress left at the table. Now nobody thinks this is a good idea because the salsa there is fucking hot as hell, but what you have to understand about Cash and Camp is that they are identical twins and extremely competitive.”
He took another sip of his margarita, as if to cool his own mouth.
“I’m looking at the glass pitcher and I can see all the pepper seeds floating around in this shit and I’m telling Cash, ‘No, dude, it’s totally not gonna be worth it later when you’re carrying a bag of ice with you to the bathroom.’ Well, that only works to provoke Cash even more, and he takes the pitcher to his mouth and slams it like you would a beer or bottled water. He’s chugging that shit and no one is saying a word because everybody is too busy watching him drink down the hot sauce. He makes it to the end, lets out a burp, and that’s when the shit hits the fan—he loses his stomach all over the floor.”
Jessie laughed so hard, tears flowed from her eyes. She pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh my God, no!”
Logan nodded. “Oh yes. They told us to leave and never come back. Didn’t even give us a bill. No St. Martin has set foot in Julio’s since that fateful day.”
Michael padded barefoot into the dining room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Mommy?”
“Hey, baby.”
He crawled into Jessie’s lap in his half-asleep state and hugged her before snuggling in.
He turned to smile at Logan. “Are you gonna kiss my mommy?”
Jessie felt her cheeks heat. She had no idea where Michael came up with this stuff. Logan stood, walked to her and Michael, and kissed each of them on the cheek. He then went to the stove, where they’d placed Michael’s fish sticks and pasta, pulled a fork out of the corral, and brought the plate to the table.
“Here you go, buddy.” He patted Michael on the head. “What’s your poison?”
Michael giggled and wrinkled his nose. “Poison?”
“What’s your poison? It means what do you drink.”
Michael laughed. “That’s silly.”
Logan leaned across the table and tapped Michael’s nose. “It is, isn’t it?”
“I like chocolate milk.”
“Hmm, let me see what we have.” Logan returned with a cup. “One cup o’ chocolate milk.”
Jessie was astonished as she watched Logan carry out the domestic tasks. Something shifted inside her at that moment, something was created or birthed, twisting and turning and then straightening out into so
mething like hope. Or maybe joy. Or maybe just relief. Relief that she could trust Logan and have a relationship without having to worry about what might happen in a future not yet written.
She yearned to have Logan as a permanent fixture in their lives. She knew her reaction was highly irrational and probably had to do with her mothering instincts, but she also knew it had a lot to do with her attraction to Logan. What did he think? Did he want the instant responsibility that came attached to a single mother? That was asking a lot of a man in a fledgling relationship. Most people who met Michael loved him since he was a precocious and funny child and rarely caused problems. But he was a child and another man’s son. Could Logan love him the way a boy needed to be loved? She shuddered to think how it would devastate Michael were Logan to pull close and then leave. It had already gotten a little out of hand and she didn’t really even know the guy. She knew a little about his family, and everyone spoke about him with affection or respect, but that didn’t mean he would always be there for Michael. He could be a great guy and still not be right for them.
Oh God, rather than talking her into a relationship, her thoughts were talking her out of one. Was she making a mistake? It certainly didn’t feel like a mistake. No! She wouldn’t let her thoughts ruin this for her. She like Logan, Michael liked Logan. She would pursue it and see where it led them. Together she and Michael and Logan would weave the pattern of their future.
≈
With his peripheral vision, Logan once again noted that when he did something for Michael, even something ordinarily simple, Jessie began to wipe at her eyes. She was obviously conflicted about bringing men around her son. He didn’t want her to worry so much and wondered how he might help her overcome her fears. He wanted to tell her that he wouldn’t hurt either of them, not intentionally. He wanted to say that he was in as deep as she was. But he couldn’t just come out and say that when he wasn’t around Jessie and Michael, thoughts of them bombarded his mind like a fusillade of missiles. She’d think he was nuts. And his mind was nothing compared to his senses suddenly misfiring. He saw the fiery color of her hair in random objects—fruits, coins, cars, seeds. He’d smell the two of them too. And how did a guy tell a woman that without her thinking he was crazy?
Her scent was exotic and almost forbidden, he imagined Eve in the Garden of Eden. Then there was Michael, he smelled like syrup, apple cinnamon, and innocence. They smelled like life, the way life should smell—good and sweet and pure.
Logan liked to be around children, maybe because he’d been a child when he’d lost his innocence, and he was buoyed by the natural goodness and purity that children had. He wanted Michael to keep his innocence for as long as possible.
He wanted Michael and Jessie to be protected.
After dinner Logan and Michael watched the animated movie from the floor while Jessie sat on the couch. Midway through, Michael fell asleep. Logan was distracted when a milky-white leg rubbed across his chest and fingers tugged demandingly at his hair. He grasped the calf and tenderly bit the inner flesh of Jessie’s thigh. She moaned, and Logan gestured at her to be quiet. She bit down on her lip, but her eyes flashed fire.
He stood and positioned her on the couch so he could lie atop her. He pulled the afghan over their bodies and whispered in her ear, “Can you keep quiet, Miss Hunter?” She looked him in the eye with her steel blues and nodded. “Good.”
He unbuttoned her sundress, kissing the exposed skin as he uncovered it. He whispered in her ear, “Pretty dress.” Distracted, he placed a kiss on her jaw and slowly worked his way toward her mouth. “I love this mouth.” He sucked at her bottom lip. “The luscious ripe color taunts me all day.” Her breathing picked up, and Logan could hear her panting in his ear as he refocused his efforts on her dress. Once he had all the buttons undone, Logan parted the dress to reveal her white cotton underwear. He smiled. Her underwear told him that she hadn’t had a lover to dress for in a while. He planned to change that. But still, she was rocking the cotton. He gazed at her body, ran a finger from her neck to her belly. She was far prettier than the dress. He pulled her bra cups down to expose the delicate tips of her breasts and suckled a nipple. At her mewling, he looked at her through his lashes, her nipple still in his mouth, and placed his fingers on her lips to quiet her. She bit down hard on his fingers.
“Shit.”
Her eyes widened at his expletive. Michael’s breathing hitched, and they both held their breaths. When they heard his light snore, they smiled at one another.
Her arms slid under his shirt and her fingers gently traced each of his oblique muscles. As she explored, Logan moved aside the thin barrier of white cotton covering her sex and massaged her soft pussy, surprised at the amount of wetness. God, what had she been doing under that afghan while he and Michael innocently watched the movie? Had she been stroking herself? Thinking of him? He whispered, “You’re dripping for me.” She nipped at the fingers still in her mouth, and when he shifted her hands slid into his shorts and freed his cock and rubbed it against her sopping core. God, that felt good. She made him feel good. He shuddered.
He wanted to make her shudder too.
He shifted a bit and used the head of his penis to stimulate her clit, alternating a swirling pressure with light taps. Her clit had grown large, just as it had before, and he liked the size of it, liked that he could see it. Liked knowing she was aroused and wanting him. Her body arched beneath him, and he felt her shudder. Yes, just what he’d been waiting for. He found her opening and inserted himself to the hilt, knowing she could take him. He strained to maintain a deliberate rhythm, slow and steady, and found a pace they could both lose themselves in. And then he settled in to enjoy her. He fondled her breasts, sucked her nipples, and nibbled her neck and jaw. She followed his lead, keeping to the same flow, stroking his back and hips, rocking him gently. He teased her body, teased himself as well, for long and delicious minutes as he made love to her on the couch in her living room.
Somewhere around nine thirty, Logan received a call from his father, which he didn’t answer since he had Jessie wrapped in his arms and they were kissing again. They were still wrapped up in one another, with Logan just about to raid the kitchen for pie, when his father called again at nine forty-five. When the signal for a text message chimed, he finally picked up his phone. And when he read call me in caps, Logan decided he’d better make contact in case something was going down at the brewery.
He kissed Jessie on the tip of her nose and said, “I better call my father back and see what’s up.” He walked to the kitchen to avoid waking Michael.
“Hey, Dad, you called?”
“Son, your mother and I need to speak with you.”
“Hit me with it.”
“In person.”
“Okay, tomorrow then.” Logan was getting a bad feeling.
“I’d rather you come out to the house now.”
“Damn, Dad, it’s ten o’clock.”
“Sorry, old man, it’s important.”
“I’ll be there in twenty.”
Logan told Jessie where he was going, but before he left, he carried Michael to his bed, tucked him in, and kissed his forehead.
Michael woke and whispered, “I want you to be my daddy.”
The straight-shooting words drew a gasp from Logan’s throat. He inhaled raggedly and whispered in Michael’s ear, “I want that too.” Feeling a catch in his heart, Logan patted Michael’s head, and he resumed his light snore.
Logan stood staring, shocked at how the boy had situated himself so deeply into his heart.
He kissed Jessie goodbye, not saying anything about his words with Michael. And drove in silence to his parents. He entered through the gates that had been left open for him and parked at the estate’s artistic fountain. His mother waited at the door. When he reached her, she kissed his cheek.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Of course, Mom, but you guys are scaring me. What’s going on? Is somebody sick? Hurt?”
&nb
sp; She motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen, where his father was sitting on a bar stool drinking a soda. She clucked her tongue. “I told you no more sodas, Cliff.”
“Cat, surely you can make an exception right now. Please stop nagging me.”
She pursed her lips.
Logan recognized the pattern established years earlier, but the anger that used to color their arguments was missing.
His father nodded at him and patted the stool beside his. “Why don’t you come sit?”
Logan perched on the stool next to his father, laid a hand on his arm. “Dad, are you okay?” Maybe he was the one who was sick. Maybe that was why Mom was back in the picture.
“Yeah, boy, everything’s fine.”
“Okay then…What’s on your mind?”
His mom left the kitchen, and Logan wondered if that was to give them privacy. His father set intense eyes on him. He fidgeted a bit as his mouth opened and closed, but after a deep breath, the words tumbled out.
“I had an affair with your mother. That is, your biological mother. It had been going on for a while. I’d guess about two years. After you were born, we broke it off.” He exhaled through clenched teeth. “Catherine knew, but turned a blind eye, as society women are wont to do. I’m not proud of my actions, but I could never regret the affair.”
Logan didn’t know how to react, didn’t understand why his dad was telling him this now. He scrambled for words. “Did my father know?”
“No, he didn’t. I want you to know, Dave was a good man. You know your parents were our friends. I don’t even know why or how it happened, but it was like your mother and I had to get together for a higher reason. Lord knows we tried to deny the attraction, but our attempts were futile. I now know why.”
“Dad, what the hell did you put in that Coke?” Logan picked up the can of soda and sniffed it.
“Just Coke.” He shook his head. “Before you were born, Anne and Dave had been married for six years and she’d yet to get pregnant. She desperately wanted to be a mother and when she found out she was expecting, she was over the moon. God, she loved you with everything she had. When you came along, she said you saved her life. She doted on you like nothing I’ve ever seen.”