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He grinned. ‘I think their comment was, “Who do you think you are?” To which I replied, “The guy you’re going to see when she’s burnt and miserable.”’ He lifted his beer to his lips. ‘Funnily enough, that seemed to shut them up. I saw them in the shop later, buying sun cream by the bucketload.’
Evanna laughed. She’d always liked that about him. The way he wasn’t afraid to speak up when he saw something that he didn’t agree with. ‘I’ve never understood why people insist on putting small babies in the sun.’
‘Ignorance. I really do need to talk to you,’ he drawled softly, lifting a hand and removing a leaf from her hair. ‘And I honestly don’t know how you’re going to react to what I’m going to say. You’re probably going to refuse.’
Refuse?
When had she refused him anything?
Her legs were shaking so badly that she stepped backwards and leaned against the broad trunk of the tree for support. ‘Just say it, Logan.’
‘All right. But if I’m overstepping the bounds of our friendship then I want you to tell me. Do you promise to give me an honest answer?’
Overstepping the bounds of their friendship?
Hope and anticipation made her suddenly dizzy. ‘Yes,’ she mumbled, her hands fisting by her sides. ‘Of course.’ The weeping willow provided a lush, delicate screen from the rest of the garden and suddenly the atmosphere seemed impossibly intimate. It was just the two of them, everyone else forgotten.
He took a deep breath. ‘I wondered if you’d consider looking after Kirsty for me on Wednesday afternoons. I know it’s usually your afternoon off, but it wouldn’t be for ever. Just until I find someone to replace Amy Foster.’
Evanna stared at him. The words he’d spoken were so different from the ones she’d longed to hear that it took her a moment from the meaning to sink in. ‘You want me to look afte
r Kirsty? That’s what you wanted to ask me?’
‘Yes. I know it’s a lot to ask. You’ve often looked after her before, but not on a regular basis. Is the answer going to be no?’ He strolled towards her, powerfully built and handsome. The man she’d loved for the whole of her life.
She looked away for a moment, struggling to compose herself. Then she cleared her throat carefully. ‘Logan…’ Her voice cracked. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Of course. Anything.’
What do I have to do to make you notice me? ‘Why ask me? Why me?’
‘Because you’re completely reliable, a wonderful cook, incredibly uncomplicated and Kirsty adores you. That’s just a start but I could go on for ever.’ He gave a shrug and a lopsided smile. ‘If I didn’t need you in the practice so badly, I’d fire you and employ you to look after Kirsty full time.’
So he was happy for her to care for his daughter.
That was a compliment, of course. But it was so much less than she wanted.
Evanna stood for a moment, thinking of the heat and the passion she saw in Ethan’s eyes when he looked at Kyla. Then she looked at Logan. And saw humour and a faint question in his gorgeous blue eyes.
For him, their relationship was all about friendship. Nothing else.
‘Evanna?’
She realised that he was waiting for an answer. And how could she refuse? She loved him. She’d loved him all her life. She’d loved him when he’d been a boy at school and she’d loved him when he’d grown into a man and married another woman.
And she loved Kirsty.
How could she refuse to help him? What sort of a friend would that make her? It wasn’t Logan’s fault that her feelings towards him were entirely more complicated than his were for her.
He deserved all the help she could give him, even if it proved to be torture for her.
With a smile that cost her greatly in terms of effort, she forced the words past her dry lips. ‘Of course I’ll look after Kirsty on Wednesdays. It would be my pleasure.’
His eyes were on her face. ‘I don’t expect you to do it for nothing. I’ll pay you.’
Employee. Friend. He offered her just about every role except the one she wanted. ‘I don’t want to be paid, Logan,’ she said quietly. ‘I love Kirsty.’
‘Well, it’s just until I find someone else, then. I don’t want to take advantage of you.’ He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears in a distinctly brotherly gesture. ‘Better put your hair back up or she’ll tug it out by the handful.’
