Page 41 of Tattered (Lark Cove 1)

Thea had this way of making me ignore should. She inspired me to throw out logic and prudence and obligation.

“So what’s next?” I asked, handing her the bottle. “Tell me what to do.”

She shrugged. “You have a week. I guess let’s start there. Charlie has a soccer game tomorrow night, and you’re welcome to come.”

“I’ll be there. Just text me when and where.”

She nodded. “We usually go out to dinner afterward. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Done.”

“No more talk about moving.” She pointed the bottle at my nose. “Don’t tell Charlie you’re thinking of buying a house here either. At least, not until she warms up to you. She’s scared she’s going to have to live in two places.”

Yes. Now we were getting somewhere. Much like in a difficult acquisition or tense merger negotiation, I always studied my opponents. I liked to know exactly who I was facing off with on behalf of my clients. Before I sat down at any conference table, I knew everything possible about the business my client was trying to buy—financial position, staff members, any previous legal troubles. And I knew even more about the opposing counsel. It wasn’t uncommon for me to take them out for a “get-to-know-you” lunch before we faced off.

It was ridiculous, comparing a soccer game and dinner with a five-year-old girl to my contract negotiation strategies. But I was desperate to get along with my daughter.

I waved Thea on. “Keep it coming.”

“Don’t make her any promise you can’t keep. Don’t let her silence scare you away. She listens more than she talks. Oh, and we can never argue in front of her. If she senses that we’re not getting along, she’ll pick a side and it won’t be yours.”

I grinned at the mental image of Charlie protecting her mother. I could relate to that feeling entirely. Something about Thea made me want to wrap her in my arms and never let go. “Anything else?”

She shook her head. “I’ll let you know what I come up with.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She took a shot, then handed me the bottle to do the same.

We stood there in silence for a while, passing the vodka back and forth. The entire time, I studied Thea’s deep brown eyes. They were so bold and large, the color of dark chocolate. The night we’d spent together, I’d spent hours getting lost in her eyes as I’d moved inside of her.

Drunk and unable to fight the pull, I stepped away from the cabinet, holding her eyes as the space between us disappeared. I walked right into her space, trapping her against the table. The heat from her heaving breasts warmed the front of my shirt.

“Logan,” she whispered when I pressed even closer. “This is stupid.” Still, her hands came to my waist, gripping my shirt.

“You’re probably right. But I’m going to kiss you anyway.”

My entire body hummed as Logan pressed his hips closer. The hardness behind his jeans sent a wave of scorching heat to my core. I hadn’t been kissed in a really, really long time.

Why was this stupid? I couldn’t think of a reason. All of the worries and concerns I’d had in the kitchen after he’d stormed out were a hazy blur at the back of my mind. They vanished as my eyelids drifted shut, waiting for the soft brush of his lips.

The heat from his breath feathered across my cheek. He was so close I was dizzy. I gripped his shirt tighter, waiting for his mouth. He was almost—

“Wait.”

No! My stupid, tiny, infuriating brain. I should have had another shot or two. Maybe then, my good judgment wouldn’t have been able to reengage at the last second and send that awful word through my mouth.

I opened my eyes to see Logan had moved back, just an inch. Enough that I could make out the disappointment on his face.

“Sorry.” My shoulders sagged. “I want you to kiss me.”

“But?”

“But,” I dropped my hands from his shirt, “it will only complicate things even more.”

There were too many hurdles between us. Lifestyle. Geography. Responsibilities. Even drunk on vodka and Logan’s scent, the obstacles were just too big to ignore.

He grumbled under his breath and backed away, resuming his place against the cabinets. “Are you always this logical when you’ve been drinking?”