4. “Friday I’m In Love” #3
“Not really.”
“How about this?” He tenderly prodded the ankle.
“A little.”
“This?”
When she hissed, he had his answer.
“I don’t think it’s sprained. But you definitely twisted it. You’ll have to keep your weight off of it.” He collected her shoes and gave her enough support to limp along at a slow pace. “Take my arm.” Like all Hawthorne men, he was a total gentleman when it mattered.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. We should get there sometime tomorrow.”
She snorted and then groaned with embarrassment. “Always a class act.”
“Hey, shit happens.”
They strolled along the sea wall at a turtle’s pace. The whole situation was suddenly comical to Jocelyn, and she laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. This.”
“What about this?”
“Don’t you see it? The moonlight. The perfect weather. The stars. The view.”
He chuckled. “Okay, I see it.”
“Totally wasted on us.”
“Not totally. We can still appreciate it.”
Joking around, she rested her head on his broad shoulder and sighed. “Okay. Give me your best lines.”
“My lines?”
“Yeah. If this were a date, how would you seal the deal?”
“I don’t know. I’d probably plan a little better.”
“How so?”
“Maybe pack a blanket and a few lanterns.”
“To bundle the body and see while you’re digging the hole?”
“Exactly.” He laughed. “I’d hide the shovel in the dunes before the date, so it didn’t cause any red flags.”
“Smart.”
They let the joke land for a few seconds, then he admitted, “I was actually thinking more along the lines of a romantic moonlight picnic.”
“Ah. Very creative, Mr. Hawthorne.”
He adjusted his arm to better support her. “How about you?”
She stared over the coast as she hobbled along. It really was a pretty night. Unfortunately, when quiet moments like this cropped up, she thought of the one person she would never share them with.
That in itself should have alerted her she’d let things go too far.
She sighed. “After the mating ritual, I usually just bite off the male’s head and eat the body for nutrients.”
“I hear that helps fertilize the eggs.” Logan never missed a beat. “What if this were one of your naughty books? How would you write it?”
Her books had been called everything from cliterature to mommy porn, but she became a best seller because she knew how to write real emotion. That, and a killer blowjob scene.
“First, I’d paint the perfect setting.” She tilted her face toward the moon and took in the muted surroundings.
The quiet lapping of waves in the distance, the cool breeze dancing over her skin.
The heat of Logan’s body pressing into hers.
If she closed her eyes, she could pretend he was someone else.
But that wasn’t the game, so she pushed those intrusive thoughts away and considered his question honestly.
She might make a mess of her life in every other area, but when it came to her job, she believed herself a talented storyteller who knew the subtle makings of true love, and despite all her dry wit and snarky sarcasm, she really was a romantic at heart.
As she scanned their surroundings through a romantic lens, something loosened in her chest. “First, the hero wouldn’t need to ask what she needed.
He’d offer it without question, because he can read her every need just by watching her body—which he never takes his eyes off of.
The heroine loves her independence, but longs for a man strong enough to handle all her complexities.
He anticipates her needs, and she never has to navigate when he’s close by. She trusts him.”
“This is definitely fiction.”
She thought about Wren and Greyson. Not all love stories were fiction. Some people were very lucky and found the real thing.
“When he sees a need, he acts.”
“So if I were writing this moment?”
She chuckled. “He’d sweep her off her injured foot as if she were ten pounds soaking wet.”
“Like this?”
The world tipped as her feet left the ground. “Logan!”
“What?” He laughed. “We’re role-playing.”
“Put me down before you pull something.”
“You insult me, Jocelyn.”
“Please, put me down.”
“Not until you finish.”
She laughed. “Now, that’s what one of my heroes would say.”
“Saucy.” He wagged his brows. “Go on. What else does he do? Teach me the art of seduction, oh wise one.”
Maybe she was drunk. Maybe she was actually enjoying this. Regardless of the reason, she played along.
“He’d carry her to the water’s edge, not because it’s romantic, but because he’d remember how she once told him some throwaway anecdote about how the sea grounds her. There’s always a hidden back story that makes every gesture more meaningful.”
Logan quietly carried her. “What would they do when they reached the water?”
“He’d set her feet in the water and wrap his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as they shared the view.”
“Does he say anything?”
“Maybe, but he doesn’t have to. It’s more about what he makes her feel.
The soft, steady beat of his breath by her ear.
The warmth of his body pressing into hers.
She instantly calms in the shelter of his arms, and nothing feels better than the protective way he wraps her in all that patient strength.
He’s unbreakable. Steady. Her rock among the rapids.
And she leans into him, trusting that he’ll never let go. ”
“He’s her peace.”
“Yes. He loves her so completely, she can finally let go of control and simply exist.”
The waves filled the silence, and for a moment, Jocelyn was lost in her mind. It was like disappearing in plain sight, something she did every time she sat down to write.
“What does he whisper in her ear?”
Her brain shifted to dialogue. This was what she did for a living, so it was second nature to draft scenarios in her head. “Something true and simple.”
“Like?”
“I’ve got you.” She smiled as a vicarious wave of gratification came in the wake of those three words, then added, “I’m never letting go.”
Logan’s steps slowed. “No wonder you’re a bestseller.”
She smiled. People rarely saw this side of her. Readers read it every day, but they didn’t know her personally.
In her daily life, she did ordinary things. She bought groceries, watched stupid sitcoms, and picked on those she loved most. No one ever really looked below the surface she presented, and she had no idea why she was giving Logan, of all people, this intimate glimpse of herself now.
“I think I had too much wine,” she confessed, squirming for him to put her down.
The waves softly crashed along the banks.
Time to return to reality. Later, she’d write that scene in the privacy of her home, where emotions were safely protected.
But for now, they were best locked away under a thick layer of sarcasm and indifference.
“Then they have sex on a Viking longship, and he makes her orgasm until the sun comes up.”
“With his eight-foot Viking cock?”
“Obviously.” The spell broke, and she wiggled free.
Logan slowly lowered her to the ground. “Careful.”
Leaning into his arms, she tested her weight on her injured foot. “I think it’s getting better.”
They both looked down as she rotated her ankle, their heads close together, the moonlight casting them in a dark silhouette. “You should still try to keep your weight off of it and ice it as soon as you get home.”
She smiled up at him and fluttered her lashes dramatically. “So protective. My hero.”
“Jocelyn?”
She pivoted at the sound of Soren’s voice, forgetting her ankle, and sucking in a sharp breath as pain rushed up her leg when she accidentally set her weight on it.
Logan steadied her, and Soren scowled.
“Soren…” Well, this was awkward. “Hi.”
The blonde clung to his arm as they both stared at Jocelyn and Logan. “What are you doing here?” Soren’s tone was loaded with accusation.
“We were at dinner and—”
“You two were at dinner?”
“Yes, but then we had too much wine, so—”
“You and Logan?” He spat his brother’s name with stunned disapproval.
“What’s your problem?” Logan snapped, not understanding why his brother would be so offended by his presence.
Of course, Soren’s reaction wouldn’t make sense to Logan. Given their public reputation as frenemies, Soren’s response to seeing her and Logan was out of line.
“Soren, get a grip.” Jocelyn flared her eyes in an attempt to silently warn him to quit overreacting before he made a scene, but the blonde was also staring at them, and she caught the look—
Uh-oh, now she was just frowning at Soren as if suspecting something.
They needed to get out of this awkward hellscape yesterday. “Let’s go, Logan—”
“Where are you going?”
“Why do you care?” Logan snapped.
“Soren, maybe we should go.” The blonde gently tugged his sleeve, getting her French perfume all over the fibers.
He looked at Shalimar as if just remembering he was on a date.
“Good call,” Logan said. “Maybe you should go.”
Soren’s glare snapped back to Logan. “What the hell did you just you say to me?”
Logan only laughed. “Whatever, man. Go home.”
But Soren was not about to be mocked by his little brother. Abandoning Lady Shalimar, he stormed forward and got right in Logan’s face. “Say it again, I fucking dare you.”
“Soren!” Jocelyn shoved him back. “What’s wrong with you?”
“This doesn’t involve you.” He shoved his brother, but Jocelyn wedged her body between theirs.
“Oh, I think it does.”
“Soren, let’s go,” Shalimar whined.
“Say what you gotta say, Logan. I need one excuse to lay you out.”
This time, Jocelyn shoved Soren. “That’s it! You’re making a fucking fool of yourself.”