Maia blinked a number of times, her eyes growing rounder and rounder as she gazed at her new bedroom.
Logan had painted the whole room a soft, soothing green. The white Shaker bed was centered to the room, and we’d found matching bedside cabinets, bureau, and wardrobe. In the corner of the room was a small, extremely cute green velvet reading chair I’d fallen in love with and promised Logan Maia would love too. I’d dressed her bed in a white cotton duvet set that was trimmed in forest green and champagne. Draped across the bottom of the bed was a forest green velvet throw, and I’d arranged five scatter cushions in all shapes and sizes, in greens and champagne, on top of her pillows.
Pretty gold lamps with silk champagne shades set off her bedside cabinets, and I’d bought her some perfume and makeup and arranged it on her bureau. In her many conversations about Leigh and Layla, I’d discovered who her favorite bands were. We’d found posters for a few of them, framed them, and put them on the walls. Above her bed was a piece of canvas abstract art that was painted in the colors we’d decorated her room in.
We waited with bated breath for her reaction.
The wonder on her face suddenly dissolved into tears.
Logan shot me a panicked look.
I smiled at him in reassurance and before I could say anything Maia slowly walked over to him, her mouth trembling, her chest heaving as she tried to control the tears, and she threw her arms around him. Right then she seemed so much a little girl, and tears pricked my eyes.
Logan relaxed into the hug, holding her securely in his strong arms. He kissed the top of her head and said softly, “I take it that means you like it?”
She nodded against his chest. “I love it. It’s beautiful.” Her mumbled praise rose up to reach our ears. There were a few more sniffles and choked emotions before she pulled away from her dad and swiped at her cheeks. “Thank you.”
My heart squeezed in my chest when I realized Logan’s eyes were bright with emotion. He cupped her face and whispered, “Welcome home, sweetheart.”
I couldn’t stop the tears and, frankly, I wasn’t ashamed of them. I was so moved to be a part of this moment.
Maia smiled shakily at me. “I better go pack.”
“Yeah.”
She rushed toward me and hugged me tight before hurrying out of the flat.
And just like that I found myself wrapped in Logan’s arms. I made a startled noise before relaxing into him. Sliding my own arms around him, I tried not to think about how warm and strong he felt against me, the muscles in his back hard beneath my fingertips. He smelled bloody wonderful too.
Damn it.
The hug didn’t last nearly long enough. He pulled back but not to step away. Instead he cupped my face in his hands like he had done Maia, and his thumbs swiped at the tear tracks on my cheeks. I felt a little lost looking up into his beautiful eyes. “There’s no way for me to thank you properly,” he said, his voice gruff.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I whispered, struggling to find the strength to speak up over the reaction my body was having to his nearness.
I was tingling.
All over.
In places Logan really shouldn’t be making me tingle.
Those tingles turned to full-on shivers as he lowered his hands, his thumbs whispering a trail down my neck and along my collarbone. He let go, only to settle his hands on my waist.
My lips parted in surprise, drawing his gaze.
I couldn’t breathe.
A vibrating noise shattered the intensity of the moment, and I frowned in confusion.
Logan stepped back, no longer meeting my eyes. “My phone,” he muttered, digging into his jeans pocket for it.
More than a little discombobulated by what had or had not just happened, I started backing out of the room. “I’ll just, uh… go see how Maia is getting on.”
Shaking my head, I hurried out of the flat.
What the hell had that been?
He wasn’t all flirty, so it couldn’t have been sexual. In fact, I knew for certain it wasn’t sexual, because he wasn’t attracted to me. I shook my head again and charged into my flat, suddenly annoyed.
I wish the man wouldn’t be so bloody affectionate with me!
That was it. I’d been right a week ago at the restaurant when he’d flirted with the waitress. Sure, as soon as Maia went into a huff with him over it, he stopped it, but it still reminded me of a very important fact.
I was not Logan MacLeod’s type. I never would be.
And, frankly, in any other dimension he wouldn’t be my type. I’d been thrown at him in circumstances beyond my control.
Well, no more!
I needed to create distance from him without creating distance with Maia. I could do it.
I had to do it.
Shoving the moment out of my head, I moved into the doorway of my guest room to see Maia packing her clothes into the suitcase I’d left out for her. “Nearly ready?”
She looked up and gave me a tremulous smile.
“Sweetie, are you all right?”