Page 103 of Just Say Yes

“Watch it, Sylvie,” Duke said, though his voice held no real heat.

Logan shifted slightly next to me, his arm brushing my shoulder through the blanket. I couldn’t tell if the movement was deliberate, but I felt it anyway—a quiet reminder of how close he was.

“You’re reading too much into it,” I muttered, my voice tight as I stared into the fire.

Sylvie didn’t respond, but her knowing silence said enough. I felt like the ground beneath me was tilting ever so slightly, pulling me toward a place I wasn’t sure I wanted to go.

“I think I hear Gus,” Sylvie finally said, rising to her feet and stretching with a yawn.

We all stood, and Duke grumbled good-naturedly, rising to follow her, but not before tossing a look at Logan—something close to a warning, but not quite.

“I think we’ll call it a night too.” I looked at Logan, who nodded. “Thanks for dinner.” I hugged Sylvie, then Duke.

Logan shook hands with Duke and hugged Sylvie.

As their footsteps faded into the house, I stared at the dying embers of the fire. Logan didn’t move either. The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy with things we weren’t saying.

“You okay?” Logan’s voice broke the quiet, low and steady.

“Yeah.” I forced a smile and shrugged. “Sylvie just has a way of making everything sound more dramatic than it is.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Sometimes a little drama is okay.”

“Don’t start.” I turned toward him, trying to keep my tone light, but the words came out harsher than I meant.

Logan studied me, his eyes searching mine. “You don’t ever have to pretend, MJ. Not with me.”

The low fire crackled, throwing shadows across his face. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look away.

“Come on,” I said, before he could say anything else. “It’s getting chilly. Let’s not stay out here and freeze to death.”

I had started to drop the blanket on the love seat when Logan pulled the edges around my shoulders. “Keep it. You can get it back to her tomorrow.”

I pulled the blanket tight around my shoulders and smiled at him. Logan followed me down the porch steps, his presence steady and quiet.

“You’ve had some wine,” he finally said. “I’ll drive you home.”

A smile bloomed across my face. While I could have driven after only one glass of wine, I liked the fact that he was trying to take care of me.

I’d never had that before.

Logan held open the door, and I climbed into the passenger seat.

He rounded the truck, and I stole a glance at him. Even as the engine rumbled to life, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d been seen—really seen—and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

The truck groaned, a low hum filling the space as Logan shifted into gear. Outside, the darkness swallowed the landscape, the farmhouse disappearing behind us as we hit the long gravel drive.

Inside, the warmth of the truck wrapped around me, but it wasn’t enough to explain the heat simmering just beneath my skin.

Logan’s hand rested easy on the steering wheel, his thumb tapping absently against the leather as his eyes stayed fixed on the road. His other arm stretched across the space between us, close enough that if I moved even slightly, my fingers might brush his.

And I wanted to.

“Your sister’s a little intense,” he said finally, his voice low, like he didn’t want to disturb the quiet.

I huffed a laugh, leaning my head back against the seat. “That’s one way to put it.”

“She cares, though.”

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