Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Logan
S he’d leaped from his lap in a way that wasn’t particularly flattering to him, but he couldn’t begrudge her needing to get the call. Harper was going through some pretty intense stuff, and he hoped he’d helped distract her, even if just for a few minutes.
That’s what you were doing? Distracting her?
His lips thinned and he pushed to a stand, walking away from Harper even though he wanted to stay. Not because he wanted to listen to her phone call, but because he wanted to be there when something happened, and he needed to comfort her.
Because if Logan knew anything about this kind of incident with the press, it was that it didn’t go away. Not as quickly as Harper and her family wanted. Even if the press attention stopped, the after affects would be felt for a long time.
Even years.
He made his way into the house and stood in the kitchen, staring out across the deck and the water with the low sunlight dancing across it in ripples.
Logan knew what Harper was going through. Even worse, he knew what was to come. Why else was he still hiding away in the woods where anyone who approached the house could be heard easily?
Once bitten and all that.
And he wasn’t going to let Harper get hurt. He felt too…
What exactly do you feel for her?
Logan wasn’t one to lie to himself. He tended to face issues head on, even if they were uncomfortable. He liked Harper. A lot. He wasn’t going to lie about that to himself.
But it had only been a matter of days. And nobody felt strongly about someone after only days. Especially not him. Not after Savannah.
Harper is not Savannah.
He shook his head, turning away from the window. Savannah had been a mistake. And one that had cost him dearly.
Logan huffed and turned away from the window. He still hadn’t showered, so made his way to the downstairs bathroom.
He was midway through washing his hair when he thought he heard Harper call out his name.
“Yeah?” He paused, straining to hear her voice over the sound of the water.
“I’m sorry, forget it.”
Harper choked on the last word, as if she’d been crying. That wouldn’t do. Logan turned off the water and, wrapping a towel around his waist, left the bathroom.
He found Harper curled up at one end of the couch in the living room, her head buried in her hands. Right where he liked to sit when the weather was bitterly cold. The fireplace was empty right now, the flat screen TV above it reflecting him in his towel.
“Harper? What’s wrong?”
He crouched down beside her and tentatively reached out to touch her shoulder. She shook her head, keeping her face hidden and hiccupped.
“Who was that on the phone?”
She looked up, her cheeks streaked with tears and her eyes red. “King. Isla’s bodyguard.”
Logan nodded. “Bad news?”
Harper nodded, her bottom lip wobbling. Logan’s chest tightened and he dropped onto the couch next to her, not caring about the wet towel. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her toward him. She came willingly and dropped her head onto his shoulder, her hand reaching up to curl near her cheek where it rested on his chest.
He absently brushed his fingers over the back of her arm, smiling when she sighed and snuggled into him.
“Yeah, bad news.”
Logan waited a few beats. “Want to talk about it?”
Harper pulled back to look at up at him. “You wouldn’t mind?”
He shook his head. “No.”
She nodded and settled back against him. He was becoming very quickly used to touching her, having her next to him, holding her like this.
But a city girl who is used to the bright lights won’t want to settle for a small town guy like you.
His lips thinned, but he pushed aside the thought. She was here and she needed him. That was enough for now.
“Look at this,” Harper said, pulling her phone from the couch next to her and unlocking the screen.
She passed the phone to Logan who took it and scrolled through the website she’d opened to. It was some kind of entertainment news site, and his stomach rolled at the memories of similar sites—but for football—that his name had been plastered all over years ago. His hand tightened on her shoulder.
He read page after page of supposed news about Harper, her sister Isla, their father, and even her bodyguard. King’s relationship with Isla was speculated on and even one imaginative commenter claimed they had seen not only Isla, but Harper as well in the arms of King. At the same time.
Harper looked up at him. “None of it’s true.”
He nodded. He handed the phone back to Harper. “It’s not great, but it’s not the worst I’ve seen.”
Harper nodded. “That’s just the start.” She navigated to a different site and passed the phone back to Logan.
This time it was a press announcement from Isla’s record label. She had been dropped..
Logan’s brows knitted.
“Can they do that based on rumors?” He asked.
“But they’re not rumors.”
“Do they know that?”
Harper sat up and tucked her legs underneath her, facing him on the couch. “According to King they do. He wouldn’t say how he knew that for sure, but he was certain.”
Logan frowned. He didn’t like that this guy was calling Harper and making her upset. “He upset you.”
Harper gave him a strange look. “Not really.”
“You were crying.”
“Yeah, but not because of King.”
Logan crossed his arms over his chest. Harper glanced at his bare skin and cleared her throat before looking pointedly away.
“Isla still isn’t talking to me.”
“Are you sure King isn’t stopping her?”
Harper darted a shocked glance at him. “He’s her bodyguard!”
Logan raised an eyebrow and shrugged in reply.
“He wouldn’t do anything like that.” She paused, opening her mouth and closing it again. She pursed her lips and tilted her head to one side. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s in love with her.” Harper frowned and looked down at her hands in her lap where she was playing with the edge of her shirt. She looked up at him. “Why are you scowling like that?”
“I’m not scowling.”
“Yes, you are,” she said with a laugh. “Your eyebrows get all smooshed together and this line appears right here.” She reached out to smooth a fingertip between his eyebrows where—damn it she was right—he had pulled his eyebrows together in a scowl.
“Are you sure you can trust him?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
Logan huffed. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb and closed his eyes.
Harper shifted beside him, and he dropped his hand, turning his head to watch her.
“Look, I think we need to talk about what happened out there.” She nodded toward the deck.
It had turned dark now, and the deck was in shadow. Their reflection showed in the glass of the windows that led out to the water. They made an interesting picture. Logan in a towel. Harper with her legs pulled close to her chest.
He knew what she would say. Thank you, but no thanks. She had a career that meant she couldn’t stay—not that he’d even asked her to, not yet—and she had to get back to her life.
At best, kissing Logan was a nice distraction, but it couldn’t happen again.
“You don’t have to say it,” he grumbled. He stood and walked away from the couch before she could say the words.
Why does his chest hurt?
“Logan, wait.”
He heard her feet hit the floor as she padded after him. He stopped but didn’t turn. His shoulders were stiff, hands held still by his side.
“You don’t want to know what I was going to say?” She walked around him to stand at his front, close enough that she could reach out and touch him. That he could reach out and touch her.
But no, she wouldn’t want that.
He squeezed his hands into fists to keep them by his side. The feel of her under his fingers was a hot memory that lit him on fire, but he resisted.
Barely.
“I don’t regret kissing you, Logan.”
His head jerked up, his eyes latching onto hers.
She grinned. “You thought I’d say I regretted it, didn’t you?” She lifted an eyebrow.
Logan cleared his throat but stood his ground.
“Did you think I had something going on with King? And that’s why I was upset?” She tilted her head to one side.
Logan was acutely aware that he was still wearing only a towel. A towel that had started to slip free from where he’d tucked it around his waist. He grabbed at it with one hand to hold it up. It was hard to look indignant when you were dressed in only a towel.
“Would you blame me if I had?” He said, trying to hold onto the scrap of pride he had left.
If only Harper knew how infrequently Logan dated. How little time he spent with women other than his sister and mother.
He could have asked either of them to put Harper up until Mason came back, but he didn’t. It hadn’t even occurred to him.
Are you sure about that?
No, he wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t one to second guess himself and there was something about Harper that had him wanting to keep her close to him. To keep her safe.
And instead, he’d done what? Growled at her when she was upset and practically accused her of having an affair with her sister’s bodyguard?
Well done, buddy.
He closed his eyes and groaned.
Harper’s hand landed on his chest. “You know it’s incredibly difficult to focus on anything when you’re parading around in just a towel.”
“Parading around?” He squinted at her.
“Yep.” She slid her hand up around his neck. “Logan, I like you. I think you are hot as hell. To be honest, I want to climb you like a tree.”
Logan barked out a laugh. “Climb me like a tree?”
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with two consenting adults having some fun together, do you?”
Was this really happening? Did she really mean it?
Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Harper blinked. “You don’t want to?”
Logan scoffed and drew a hand through his hair. “Princess, you have no idea how much I want to.”
The towel slipped a little further and his hand gripped the two ends together as if he was holding the last of his willpower.
The reasons why this wouldn’t work hung thick in the air. She was going to leave. He would never see her again. They were from different worlds. She deserved far more than some small-town hick carpenter. He squeezed his lips together.
“I want you. You want me. What else is there to talk about?” A small line formed between her eyebrows and Logan stared at it. She wasn’t being coy anymore, but her hand still rested on his chest, absently stroking his skin. Every movement of her fingers sent heat spiking through him.
The towel tented.
So what if she left? Everybody did at some point anyway. It wasn’t like that was new.
“You have a girlfriend, is that it?” Her hand froze where it rested on his chest, and she looked up at him with wide eyes.
“No princess. I don’t have a girlfriend.”
It would have been comical how relieved she looked, if he hadn’t been so turned on. The towel was doing its darnedest to fall to the floor.
“In that case,” she started stroking his skin again. “What do we have to lose?”