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Damnit. I’m screwed. So, fucking screwed.
“My parents live a few miles South of my property in our childhood home. My brothers live to the West. I have my own house. We built all of them together years ago when Huxley Homes first took off.”
Looking up, I avoid his knowing gaze and glance back out the window. “So, where is this house of you—”
My words dry up in my mouth as the single most incredibly stunning home I have ever seen comes into view. “Oh my god,” I breathe, unable to pull my eyes away from the sight.
It’s huge. Massive, yet homey. It’s beautiful without being ostentatious.
His house is two, maybe three stories, but with four pitches at different heights, it’s hard to tell. I can only describe the exterior as a modern, luxury log cabin. The front is adorned with massive windows, allowing unobstructed views of the property. The façade combines dark wood siding, slate grey stone, and black trim. Huge pillars are supporting a deep, covered, wrap-around porch.
The right side of the house has a huge deck with matching beams. There’s a sliding glass door, connecting the deck to the house on one end. The other has stairs leading down to the biggest manicured front yard I’ve ever seen.
God, that yard is made for kids.
“This is where you live?” I gasp. In response, Logan presses a button, opening the double-wide garage door tucked to the left and hidden from view. The space is so big, it could easily fit four large vehicles. A few snowmobiles and four-wheelers are pulled up along the side, next to a good size fishing boat. It only confirms what I’d already suspected. Logan’s definitely outdoorsy.
Turning off the truck, he leans back, an unreadable expression on his face as he watches me. “What do you think?”
His words are flat, unlike the previous levity of our conversation. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s nervous. Of what? Was he worried I wouldn’t like his house?
Smiling, I reach out, grasping his hand in a move that feels far more natural than it should. “Logan, it’s perfect.”
His face instantly softens as he releases a heavy exhale. “Really? I wasn’t sure if you’d think—” he breaks off and palms the back of his neck with an awkward shrug. “I thought you’d think it was too—I don’t know, rustic.”
My body leans forward subconsciously with the need to kiss his adorable face. I resist, second-guessing myself, But Logan’s there, closing the distance and pressing his lips to mine. His fingers thread through my hair as he cups my head, using his hold on me to move me where he wants. It’s brief, over all too quickly, despite my best efforts to keep us locked together.
Logan pulls away, chuckling when my lips chase his. “As much as I’d like to sit here and make out with you, I wanna show you around.”
Smiling, I nod my agreement and turn to hop out, excited for a tour. My hand has just reached the handle when Logan barks, “Don’t you dare.”
I swivel, turning a confused look in his direction, but he’s already jumping out and jogging around the truck. My jaw hits the ground when Logan opens my door, wordlessly leans over, unbuckling me, and lifts me from my seat before settling me safely on the ground.
“You know I can get out of the truck by myself, right?” I ask, a little dazed by his actions. Logan ignores me and moves to release the hatch. Porkchop jumps out and takes off, moving faster than I’ve ever seen her before.
“Porkchop!” I cry out, moving to take off after her. Not that I’d be able to catch her. Logan wraps his arm around my waist, hauling me backward. His chest presses into me, and I can feel his laughter along my back.
“She’s fine, I promise. Let her explore. Worst case scenario, a hunter mistakes her for a bear.”
I yank myself away and whirl on him. “Are you fucking serious?” I cry, anger and panic filling me in an instant. Logan chuckles again and shakes his head as he opens the back door and begins to pile all my crap into his arms.
“I’m just kidding, Shiloh. No one hunts these lands. Everyone knows it’s restricted and private property. I promise you, she’s fine.” He slams the door shut with a kick and juts his chin toward a door that I can only assume leads to the house. “Come on. I have to head into work for a little bit, and I want to feed you first.”
“Feed me?” I ask, my voice full of indignation. “I’m not your pet, Logan.” He leads me toward the house, batting my hands away when I try to lighten his load.
Glancing back, he smirks, a devious look on his face. “No, you’re definitely not,” he pauses, the silence weighted, and I already know I’m going to want to punch him over his next words. “If you were, you’d be so much better behaved.”
I growl, and the sound makes him fall into a fit of laughter. The sound is raspy like he doesn’t do it often, but to me, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. “I liked you better when you didn’t talk.”
“Liar.”
He’s not wrong.
We enter through a laundry room/mudroom that’s simple and clean. The floors are tiled with black slate, the walls are grey, and there are built-in dark wood cabinets and shelves for storage. Logan kicks his boots off, sliding them into a cubby along the floor before stepping through a second door. I slip out of my boots quickly, not wanting to get left behind.
“Keep up, Babydoll,” he calls, a hint of humor lacing his tone. I roll my eyes, but jog a few steps to catch up.
We enter a kitchen that’s more incredible than I could have ever imagined. The ceilings are vaulted to a peak, adorned with thick dark beams adding both style and support. The cabinets are the same dark wood, which under a brighter light, I can tell is stained pine. The walls are all white, allowing the rich woods to make a statement and provide warmth. The floors are natural wood, in various shades, that tie the colors of everything together.
