Chapter 13
Logan
The next few weeks went by in a blur, with Lachlan going to work at the firehouse, then coming straight to the farm to work his ass off afterward.
I helped him set up the event area, our days blending together in hard work and unspoken restraint.
It was easier this way—keeping busy. When we weren't working, we were alone at the house and the air between us was thick.
Something neither of us seemed to be doing a good job of ignoring.
Halloween had come and gone. We’d stayed up late watching Michael Myers and making jokes about our murderous sides.
By the end of the night, I’d fallen asleep with him on the couch, and then had felt weightless before waking in my bed the next morning.
That had only seemed to tighten the pull between us even more.
On November first, we’d opened Evergreen for Christmas tree sales and had started preparing for the two main events we had planned.
One was Photos with Santa, happening today, and the other was a big Christmas-themed festival that wouldn’t happen until we were a little closer to Christmas, on December thirteenth.
On weekends, a few of my colleagues had been coming out to help, and those had become the days I lived for.
Because when people were around, Lachlan played his part.
He’d keep his hand low on my back as we walked through the office, his fingers brushing against my wrist as if by accident but never quite letting go.
After a long day, when the stragglers were finishing up, he'd take my hand as we walked back to the house.
The casual intimacy of it made my pulse spike and my legs weak.
We'd go grocery shopping together, him lingering close, his arm brushing mine.
Every touch felt like a spark that I wanted more of, and it was only growing by the day.
The blacked-out SUV had only been around a few times since I’d moved in, but it was always in the backs of our minds.
We couldn't shake the feeling they were still watching us. They didn’t trust our story, and maybe they shouldn’t.
After all, I had killed my ex-husband, and Lachlan?
God only knew how many monsters he’d ended.
The more I thought about it the more... intoxicating he became.
His quiet darkness only made him hotter.
I had to fight it every moment because I knew better than to cross that line.
This was all pretend, wasn’t it? But god, what if it didn’t have to be?
I couldn't help but wonder if he might be down for a friends with benefits situation. No promises, just . . . us. Because if I didn’t get my hands on him soon, I might just climb him like a tree regardless. Like Tony was doing right now, humping Lachlan's leg as if he were reading my damn mind.
Lachlan laughed. “Tony, get off!”
Nudging my eager pup away, Lachlan walked over, his voice pulling me back to reality. “When is Santa supposed to be here? The event should be starting in an hour.”
I blinked, trying to focus. “Oh, uhh, he’s running a little late, but he’s coming.”
“Anything else you need me to do?” Lachlan asked, his eyes glinting with that fire.
For a split second, I nearly said bend me over this desk and have your way with me, but I kept it locked behind my teeth.
Instead, I glanced around. Everything was set.
The lights twinkled just right. The popcorn and candy stands were in place.
The T-shirt stand was ready to roll. I’d designed the shirts for some event exclusives because I knew people got FOMO and I was sure they’d sell like hot cakes.
The giant Santa chair had taken pride of place, looking like a throne of holiday cheer. It was all coming together.
I shook my head, a smile tugging at my lips. “I think we’re ready. Just waiting on Santa.”
Before I could move away, Lachlan's hand shot out, grabbing mine.
In one smooth motion, he pulled me into him, his body so warm and solid, I felt like I might melt into him.
His arms wrapped around me in a hug and my legs almost gave out.
The scent of pine, cologne, and sweat from a hard day's work enveloped me, and I inhaled deeply, almost drunk on it.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice rough in a way that made my heart flutter. “For all of this. For helping me at the farm.”
The way he held me felt like more than a thank you.
It was possessive, like a promise—his chest pressing against mine sent my every nerve into overdrive.
I looked up, and suddenly we were so close, I could feel his breath on my lips.
Just a hair’s breadth sat between us and I swore I could taste the air.
I could feel the heat of his gaze, the intensity of it, like he was fighting the same damn battle I was.
He was leaning in. I was sure of it. He was going to kiss me.
But then, just as everything in me braced for impact, a voice startled us apart.
“Am I interrupting?”
I snapped my head to the right, and there he was—a man dressed as Santa. Of course.
Lachlan stepped back abruptly, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than it should have.
A look passed between us, something raw and dangerous.
“I’ll see you afterward,” he promised, his voice low, fire still smoldering in his eyes.
I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest, and watched as he turned to walk away.
I took a breath, but it didn’t help. The inferno inside me was still burning, gnawing at the edges of my restraint.
I needed to get out of here, blow off some steam, or I might lose my mind.
Luckily, Beth, our Santa photographer for tonight, had invited me out for drinks after the event, and I was more than ready to take her up on it.
And maybe a one-night stand to help me forget the way Lachlan’s touch made me ache.
Because touching myself in the shower wasn’t enough anymore. Not when he was around.
After a few hours of the event in full swing, the hot chocolate flowing, and lights twinkling, I’d caught Lachlan’s eyes across the yard of guests at least half a dozen times.
Each glance had burned hotter than it should have for a fake relationship, leaving me flustered, like he could see through me, past the plastered-on smiles and into the part of me that wanted more. That wanted him.
So when Beth called me over to take a picture with Santa, I hesitated. It was silly, I wasn’t a kid, but she insisted. Said it would be good for marketing, fun even. I gave in, mostly to distract myself from the way Lachlan’s eyes tracked me like I was something he yearned for and couldn't touch.
I walked over and sat carefully on Santa’s lap, flashing the camera a mix of serious and ridiculous expressions just to get it over with. Beth laughed, snapping away. I turned my head toward Lachlan again.
His hand was clenched around the handle of the axe he’d been using to chop and sell wood, his knuckles white. His jaw was so tight it looked painful. His eyes burned with something that wasn’t amusement.
Possession?
Jealousy?
He looked like he wanted to kill the man I was sitting on. I was stunned, thrown completely off-kilter. It was all part of the act, right? Was he getting too into it, or was that real?
I was about to get up and go to him to say something, anything, but then the man in the Santa costume leaned in close, his breath hitting my ear.
“We should do this naked,” he murmured, low and greasy.
My skin crawled. What the fuck?
I shot to my feet like I'd been electrocuted. “I don’t think so. We’re done here,” I said tightly, turning toward Beth and giving her a quick shake of my head. She gave me a look but didn’t ask.
I helped her pack up in silence, refusing to check if Lachlan was still watching. I already felt him in my bloodstream, crackling like a second pulse. Fuck, I needed a drink.
The bar was warm, crowded, and just loud enough to blur the lines of everything. A little buzz, a little dancing. I’d be right as rain after a good night out, and maybe a quickie in the bathroom? I was feeling a little crazy and I blamed it on the man I was living with.
Beth and I threw back our first drinks too fast, then ordered seconds. I felt warmer already. She dragged me onto the dance floor and I let go. We twirled and laughed, and I forgot how much my heart ached for about two minutes.
Then some guy in a cowboy hat pulled her away, and I waved her off with a smile. I could dance alone. I didn’t need anyone.
But soon, the man who took her place was . . . wrong. He seemed too familiar. Too close. I tried to shake it off. Maybe it was just the vibe. But when his hands roamed too far, when his chest pressed too tightly against my chest, I stiffened.
I was just about to push away when a hand gripped my waist and yanked me back. I didn't even need to turn around to know who it was.
Lachlan.
The heat of him against my back made me gasp.
“Mind if I cut in?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous, eyes fixed on the man that had gone too far with a glare that could melt you into a puddle.
He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned me toward him, hands firm on my waist, and then without hesitation, he cupped my face, moved to the nape of my neck, and he kissed me.
And I forgot the world.
I melted into him.
The kiss wasn’t rushed. This didn’t feel like it was for show. It was slow, controlled, devastatingly intentional. Like he was trying to memorize my mouth, savoring every second.
I whimpered—actually whimpered—as he deepened it, his tongue sliding past my lips like he’d dreamed of doing it and didn’t want to waste a single moment. I wrapped my arms around his neck like he was the only thing tethering me to the floor.
My fingers curled into his hair.
God, I wanted this to be real. I needed it to be. Wait, it was actually happening!
But then he pulled back, resting his forehead against mine, and I knew it was over before he even said it.
“The cops are watching. I saw them come in. I-I had to do something,” he whispered.
And my heart cracked.
“Oh,” I breathed as all that warmth, that electricity, that hope drained out of me.
Of course it had been for show. And it was my fucked-up head that was making me feel all these things for a man that I’d known I was getting into a fake relationship with when all of this had started. I’d done this to myself.
Lachlan had made it clear this was pretend, and so had I.
“I need some air,” I choked out, not trusting myself to say more, and turned away before he could see my eyes glisten.
I stumbled out the back door, the cold night cutting through the haze of alcohol. My cheeks burned. My lips still tingled. My heart—god, my heart was screaming at me for being so stupid.
Then I was yanked.
Hard.
A chest collided with mine.
“I’m tired of this hard-to-get shit,” a voice growled. The man’s breath was sour with liquor. “You were practically bouncing on my lap earlier.”
The Santa. The guy I’d been dancing with inside had been the Santa from the farm.
My blood ran cold.
“Let go of me!” I shouted, panic flooding every inch of me. I kneed him hard in the groin, heard the ugly oof as he doubled over. I ran, heart pounding, and crashed straight into someone solid.
Lachlan.
He had burst through the back door like a storm.
“Hey—Logan, are you alright? What’s wrong?” His voice was sharper now, protective. His hands steadied me, his arms strong and safe, and I hated how quickly I felt okay in them.
“Nothing,” I answered, even though everything was not okay. “I’m ready to go home. Now.”
Lachlan turned, saw the man hunched over by the wall, and fury twisted in his brow for a split second. But when he looked back at me, he was soft again.
“Of course. Let’s go, baby,” he offered gently.
That word, that stupid, fake, affectionate endearment, undid me.
Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them. I turned away, brushing past him toward my car. I didn’t want him to see me fall apart.
He didn’t follow.
But he watched me drive away.
And I hated how badly I wanted him to come after me anyway.