Chapter Two
Jess
“No,” I say flatly.
Three faces scrunch up in identical disbelief.
“Pleeease.”
I briefly wish one of my children were begging me with folded hands, but alas, I chose to marry him.
“I said no. Put it back.”
Pouting, Logan lifts the box that’s bigger than our youngest and places it back on the shelf, muttering under his breath that Doritos are basically health food.
I roll my eyes and push the cart forward. “Grab the smaller one,” I toss over my shoulder.
A second later, the box thumps into the cart, followed by a kiss pressed to my cheek.
Shaking my head, I head toward the cereal aisle.
Logan immediately beelines for the sugary options, then hesitates, sidesteps, and reaches for oats and berries.
I smile.
I’d forgotten why I stopped bringing him shopping. He always acts like a menace. No one will believe that the man who scares former seals and rangers, literally begs for Doritos.
At the self-checkout, I glance at our cart, practically overflowing. And not the regular kind either. The jumbo one I could barely push once it was halfway full.
“Do you think we went overboard?” I ask.
“Nah,” Logan says easily, bagging items into the reusable totes I always keep in the trunk.
“How did it go in Florida?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Vinnie did good. I’d prefer the employees not shoot anyone, but there were security cameras, and he was cleared pretty quickly. The police here finally agreed to give the client that restraining order too.”
I frown. “I thought those were pretty easy to get.”
“They’re supposed to be,” he says. “You still need approval, which sounds fair on paper. But not when the person stalking you is former police.”
I frown. “He’s going to jail, right?”
“Oh yeah,” Logan says. “The order’s just to stop him from contacting her from inside.”
I nod, relieved.
Once we’re done, Logan whistles for the kids, who are pressed up against the aquarium like it’s the most magical thing they’ve ever seen.
I make a face. I hate when he whistles at our children like they’re animals.
I hate it more when it works.
Since we have perishables, we decide to hit a drive thru on the way home. By the time we’re driving home, both boys are asleep in the backseat, mouths open, heads tipped awkwardly against their car seats.
I bite my lip.
“So, uh,” I start. “You remember Jeremy?”
Logan tilts his head. “From college?”
I shake my head. “No. From that symposium thing you took me to years ago. He runs BayCare Security.”
“Oh,” Logan says. “Yeah. He was there with his wife.”
I nod, nerves bubbling up. “He’s divorced now. Apparently, his ex got his business partner in the divorce, and he kind of… offered me a job. Well,” I lift a hand quickly, “his job. The business partner’s.”
The words start spilling out faster.
“I mean, I’m obviously not qualified for the position, but he can’t afford a big salary right now. When he heard I’m not working right now, he offered it to me. I know it’s been years, but at one point I was actually good at my job and-”
“Babe,” Logan cuts in gently. “You’re rambling.”
I inhale slowly, then exhale.
“So… what do you think?” I ask. “About me going back to work.” I lick my bottom lip. “The kids are in school and programs until three anyway. And his office actually has daycare, so…”
“You’ve been thinking about this,” he says.
I nod.
“Wow,” Logan says. “I didn’t know you wanted to go back to work.”
I shrug. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”
“Right,” he says, turning onto our street. “Well… nice.”
Nice.
“What?” I ask.
I don’t exactly need his permission, but I’d expected more than that. Some enthusiasm. Some reassurance. Something.
Jeremy runs a business similar to Logan’s, but he’s not a competitor. And Logan himself once said he was a good guy.
“Yup,” Logan says as he parks the car. “Nice.”
Then he turns in his seat and softens his voice. “Boys. Boys. We’re home.”
The kids groan, then immediately perk up when he mentions the food. They scramble out of the car, laughter echoing down the driveway.
I stay where I am for a second, watching.
Nice.
That word digs in deeper with every passing minute.
We bring the groceries inside. Eat at the counter while the boys chatter nonstop. Get them bathed and tucked into bed. Feed the dogs. Lock the doors.
And with every step, that one word keeps replaying in my head.
Nice.
By the time we crawl into bed, I’m not just annoyed anymore.
I’m pissed.
“Good night,” Logan says, completely unaware, and pulling the covers over his head.
I stand in the doorway, watching his silhouette settle into the mattress.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I slip my slipper off my foot and chuck it.
My aim is terrible, but it still smacks him square in the ass.
“What the hell?” He sits up, staring at the pink Croc now lying on the bed. Lifting the sheet, he swings it off onto the floor.
“Is that all you have to say?” I snap. “Nice?”
He looks at me, genuinely confused. “What else am I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know.” I wave my hands helplessly. “But a few encouraging words wouldn’t hurt.”
Sitting up, he drags a hand over his face. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That wasn’t-” He stops when he sees my expression. “Fair.”
I stay where I am, arms crossed.
“I just…” his voice trails off. “I guess I always figured if you ever went back to work, it’d be with us. You know. The company you own half of. Not some asshole who couldn’t stop staring at your chest.”
My brows shoot up. “I thought you didn’t remember him.”
“I don’t,” he says quickly. “But you were wearing that silver dress, and no red-blooded man on the planet wasn’t staring.”
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it.
I step closer. “You really want me to come back to RD this might be the most fun I’ve ever had making a meal.
We make an absolute mess but it’s totally worth it.
I herd both boys into the bathroom to wash up, and I’m pretty sure it’s not a coincidence that Jess reappears just as I finish cleaning. She steps back into the kitchen wearing gray pants, a purple top, and a jacket over it all. She spins once in front of me.
“Is this okay?”
I look at her nervous expression and know she isn’t really asking about the outfit.
I bite my lip, trying to figure out how to say the right thing.
Clearing my throat, I nod. “You look… very professional. Very bosslike. I’d totally take orders from you.”
She tilts her head, rolling her eyes. “Why are you sweating?”
I chuckle. “I’m not.” Then, quickly, “It’s the stove.”
She lets out a breath. “At least I can make you sweat.”
“You can definitely do that,” I say, stepping closer. My arms slide around her waist. “Don’t worry. Most of these guys you’ve already met. There are some new faces, but they all know who you are.”
She takes a deep breath, shoulders lifting. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
I dip my head so she has to look at me. “We don’t have to do this today.”
“No,” she says immediately, shaking her head. “If I put it off, I’ll just spend all day thinking about it.”
I nod. “Fair. And if anyone gives you trouble, let me know and I’ll punch them.”
She laughs, looping her arms around my neck. “You’ll just punch them?”
“Yep,” I say seriously. “Even if it’s a girl. Right in the face.”
She laughs harder and kisses me quickly. “You’re a doofus.”
I shrug, then lean down and kiss her more deeply.
Because I love this. Us like this. Back on track.