Page 52 of Kings Fear No One
I don’t bother trying to keep him up.
My head reels with all the thoughts that have formed. I’m caught between wondering how selfish it is that I’ve guilt-tripped myself into Logan’s bed and whether he’s right that I should want better.
Mama and Grandma Renae would agree. They’ve always been perfectly clear they expect me to marry a good man of faith.
Logan Cutler couldn’t be more opposite.
Yet here I am. Wanting to stay. Lying in his bed. Hoping and praying he changes his mind.
The rhythm of his breathing becomes the lullaby that eases me off to sleep.
I’m up and moving the next morning. I change into another sundress I bought and head into the kitchen to get started on breakfast. Yesterday I talked Logan into taking me grocery shopping, which means we’re stocked up. A smile graces my face as I draw the fridge open and find it so full. I pull out the carton of eggs and packet of bacon.
The eggs finish quick while the bacon’s still popping in the pan.
I’m rolling up biscuits I’ve made using Grandma Renae’s secret recipe. The tray goes in the oven to bake a while.
Plates are set out and the coffee’s hot by the time Logan appears.
I smile at him. “Good morning. Hungry?”
He’s squinting, still half asleep. “What’s all this?”
“I made breakfast. Bacon, eggs, some buttery soft biscuits. My grandma’s recipe. Everybody loves them. Coffee?”
“Why?”
“I told you I like to cook?—”
“You don’t have to around here,” he interrupts. “I don’t need you cooking dinner or getting up early for breakfast. ’Til you showed up, I survived off beer and burritos. You don’t need to clean up around here either. Stop trying so damn hard.”
I flatten my hands over the skirt portion of my dress and let out a shaky breath. “You know, Logan, you sure try hard at making me feel like a fool. You should take your own advice.”
“Teysha, hold up.”
Logan catches me on my escape attempt. As I try to flee the kitchen and pass him on my way to the hall, he loops an arm around my waist to hold me.
I twist to free myself. “Don’t try to hold me back?—”
“Look, it’s different, alright? You being here. I’m not used to it.” Logan’s hands grip my shoulders tightly and he forces me to stand still. I have no choice but to meet his steely blue gaze and feel the funny flip in my stomach. “It’s a lot at once. A lot of shit in general. I’m not good with change.”
“I like cooking. I cooked a few meals. What is there to complain about?” I ask.
Humor flickers in his stare. “Abso-fucking-lutely nothing, baby. Happy?”
“Yes, actually. I’m glad you see things my way.”
I duck out of his arms before he can seek revenge. But as I turn back toward the kitchen and he spins around, I sense he wants some. He’s tempted to make it happen.
Be playful in return and grab hold of me all over again.
My heart flutters faster at the mere thought. I’ve been working hard to keep his attention. I’ve been hoping he would give me the affection he did in the Chosen Saints. Praying he’d change his mind and tell me he wants to be my husband.
I make it across the kitchen untouched.
But I don’t let it get me down. Logan drops into one of the chairs and cleans every crumb off his plate when he’s done. He goes back for seconds with Grandma’s biscuits. By the time the meal’s over, he’s squeezed my shoulder in thank you.
Later in the evening I’m waiting for him with dinner, and we sit down for another meal. I shower and find his bedroom door cracked open as if just for me. Within minutes of the lights going out, I’m falling asleep to the same lullaby as the previous nights.
