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“Do you recall how uncomplicated our lives were just a few weeks ago?” Logan asked her.
“Dull. Ordinary.”
“What changed all that?”
Abby was hesitant to bring Tate’s name into the conversation. “Life, I guess,” she answered vaguely. “I know you may misunderstand this,” she added in a husky murmur, “but I don’t want to go back to the way our relationship was then.” He hadn’t told her he loved her and she hadn’t recognized the depth of her own feelings.
He didn’t move. “No, I don’t suppose you would.”
Abby repositioned her head and placed the palm of her hand on his jaw, turning his face so she could study him. Their eyes met. The hard, uncompromising look in his dark eyes disturbed her. She desperately wanted to assure him of her love. But she’d realized after the first time that words were inadequate. She shifted and slid her hands over his chest to pause at his shoulders.
The brilliance of his eyes searched her face. “Abby.” He groaned her name as he fiercely claimed her lips. His hand found its way to the nape of her neck, his fingers gently pulling dark strands free from the braid so he could twine them through his fingers.
His breathing deep, he buried his face in the slope of her neck. “Just let me hold you for a while. Let’s not talk.”
She agreed and settled into the warm comfort of his embrace. The staccato beat of his heart gradually returned to a normal pace and Abby felt content and loved. The key to a peaceful relationship was to bask in their love for each other, she thought, smiling. That, and not saying a word.
“What’s so amusing?” Logan asked, his breath stirring the hair at the side of her face.
“How do you know I’m smiling?”
“I can feel it.”
Abby tilted her head so she could look into his eyes. “This turned into a happy birthday, after all,” she said.
Now he smiled, too. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
“If you weren’t going to ask me, then I would’ve been forced to make some wild excuse to see you.” Lovingly, Abby rubbed her hand along the side of his jaw, enjoying the slightly prickly feel of his beard.
“What would you like to do?”
“I don’t care, as long as I’m with you.”
“My, my,” he whispered, taking her hand. Tenderly he kissed her palm. “You’re much easier to please than I remember.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” she teased.
Logan stiffened and sat upright. “What’s tomorrow?”
“The tenth. Why?”
“I can’t, Abby. I’ve got something scheduled.”
She felt a rush of disappointment but knew that if she was frustrated, so was Logan. “Don’t worry, I’ll survive,” she assured him, then smiled. “At least I think I will.”
“But don’t plan anything for the day after tomorrow.”
“Of course I’m planning something.”
“Abby.” He sounded tired and impatient.
“Well, it’s Sunday, right? Our usual day. So I’m planning to spend it with you. I thought that was what you wanted.”
“I do.”
The grimness about his mouth relaxed.
Almost immediately afterward, Logan appeared restless and uneasy. Later, as she dressed for bed, she convinced herself that it was her imagination.
