Page 45 of Tattered (Lark Cove 1)

“Is Logan still coming?” she asked as we climbed the stairs.

“He’s going to meet us there.”

“I hope we win,” she whispered from behind me.

I smiled to myself. She never cared if they won, which meant she wanted to win with Logan there. This was progress. Like I’d told Logan, she just needed time.

Thirty minutes later, I parked my black Mazda hatchback on the street by Lark Cove School. Soccer games and all other town sports were played on the large lawn next to the children’s playground.

Charlie, wearing her shin guards and neon orange jersey, unbuckled from her seat and hurried out. She was waiting by the back hatch when I got there to collect her soccer ball. I handed it to her, then unloaded a patchwork picnic blanket Hazel had made from old jeans.

“Thea.” I spun around at Logan’s deep voice. He came right up to us and took the heavy blanket from my arms. With his free hand, he pushed his sunglasses up into his hair and bent to greet our daughter. “Hi, Charlie.”

“Hi, Logan,” she whispered, inspecting her cleats.

“Ready for the game?”

She nodded.

“Don’t forget your gloves.” I took them out of the back and handed them over.

“You play goalie?” Logan asked. “I was a goalie too when I played soccer in high school.”

Charlie’s head snapped up. “You were?”

“I wasn’t very good.” He exaggerated a grimace. “Maybe one of these days you can teach me some of your moves.”

She nodded. “Can I go, Mommy?”

“Yes. Have fun.”

Charlie spun around and raced for the soccer field to join her teammates, her ponytail whipping behind her as she ran.

“Hi.” Logan stood and leaned down to kiss my cheek. “How are you?”

Tingles broke out across my skin and my chest flushed red. “I’m good.”

Damn you, Jackson.

As much as I just wanted to enjoy the sensation of Logan’s lips on my cheek, I couldn’t. Thanks to Jackson’s speech earlier, I was doubting every one of Logan’s moves.

It didn’t make it easier that Logan looked unbelievable today. He was wearing a simple gray T-shirt, khaki cargo shorts and flip-flops. All fancy brands, I was sure. This was probably something he’d wear to a beach house in the Hamptons.

But even with the laid-back attire, he was still classy. It had nothing to do with his clothes. It was just him.

“Shall we?” Logan gestured for the grass and slid down his sunglasses.

I stepped onto the grass and we walked side by side at a leisurely pace. “Were you really bad at soccer?” I couldn’t imagine Logan being bad at anything, certainly not a sport. I knew from experience how athletic his body could be in the bedroom.

“No.” He looked over and grinned. “I was pretty good.”

“I figured.” I smiled back, leading Logan to my regular spot.

I waved at a few of the other parents who came into the bar on occasion. Behind my sunglasses, I glared at a couple of the moms who were practically drooling over Logan.

Tomorrow, I’d have an unusually large lunch crowd at the bar. People would come in who hadn’t been there in years just to pester me about the handsome stranger at the soccer game.

I didn’t care. If it bumped up my revenue, they could ask all they wanted. I would be staying quiet.