Page 20 of Tattered (Lark Cove 1)

“Thank you,” I whispered, sagging against the table. If that was all he said the rest of the night, it would be enough.

Logan resumed his inspection of my workshop, taking his time as he studied the small space.

My workshop was my special, albeit disorderly, space. It was just an old gardening shed that Hazel’s father had built decades ago. The walls were crooked. The windows were tiny and did little to keep out the elements. And the floor wasn’t even a floor, but dirt that had been worn to a semismooth and hard surface over the years.

But it was my place. Here, I could tinker without fear of burning down the house or spilling paint o

n the carpet.

There were some old shelves on the walls that I’d crammed full of my raw materials just waiting until the time was right and inspiration hit. Like my spoons. They were rejects from the school cafeteria, so I’d taken them two years ago before they could be trashed.

Last week, I’d finally had an idea for how to use them.

“So, you’re an artist?” he asked.

“No, I’m a bartender. This is all just a hobby.”

He nodded, coming closer to my table in the center of the shed. “What are you making?”

“It’s going to be a bird’s nest made out of spoons.” I’d welded the base of the nest together already, but it just looked like a mishmash of broken spoons at the moment. When it was done, it would be a cool piece to hold jewelry or other small trinkets.

“I’ll look forward to seeing it when you’re finished.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

Logan was just being polite, but I liked it nonetheless. There were far fewer polite people in the world than one would hope.

“Nolan, my business associate, gave me your address. I hope you don’t mind me stopping by.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you’re here. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for running off earlier. I just needed—”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. I get it.”

“I should have taken that shot.”

I laughed. “Probably.”

He grinned and moved away from the table, leaning back against a row of cabinets on one of the walls. “I have a kid.”

I nodded. “You have a kid.”

Of that, I had no doubt.

Charlie had always taken after Logan. They had the same part in their hair, the one that I couldn’t get to move on her head no matter how hard I tried. They had the same color eyes, a shade of brown similar to my own. Dark. The same shape of their mouth and nose.

And that crooked pinky.

“I don’t even know where to start.” He held up a finger. “Actually, that’s not true. We used condoms.”

“A lot of them,” I agreed, hopping up on the table. With my feet swinging, I shook my head. “Except in the shower.”

“The shower.” He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, letting the memory come rushing back. “I forgot about the shower.”

Not surprising. The sex we’d had in the shower had been amazing, just not as good as we’d had everywhere else in his hotel suite. Still, I hadn’t forgotten.

Logan had carried me into the shower after hours in bed. We’d both wanted to cool off and wash away the sweat and sex. But after he’d carefully lathered up my skin, I hadn’t been able to resist a long kiss. He’d hoisted me up against the tile and plunged deep, fucking me with abandon until he’d pulled out and shot his release all over my stomach. Soap and water and Logan all mixed together.