Page 92 of Risky Game

I was falling for this man. His daughter. I was starting to love every single moment I spent with him, and the more Amelia opened up to me, the less she became some girl I nannied for, but a girl who was claiming my heart.

There was no way for this to end well, and like before, with red flags paving the way to misery, I was being way too dumb in not walking away, in not ending things before they got worse.

I could, though, give us some space.

Careful not to wake Logan, I slipped out of his hold and the bed. My ankle knocked one of the bindings that had fallen down when he released me from them and I paused. Glanced over my shoulder.

Logan hadn’t moved a muscle and there wasn’t a hitch in his breath.

I climbed out of the bed, took the second, then two, to drink him in while he slept. The sheets were shoved beneath his chest, showing me those muscular pecs but hiding the abs I adored so much. He was softer in his sleep, his full lips parted. God, he was gorgeous.

Perfect.

I slipped out of the room without looking back and took the time closing the door so it wouldn’t click too loud. It was four in the morning, based on the clock on the kitchen wall, and while there was no way in hell I was falling back to sleep, I also wasn’t going to be in the kitchen when he woke and realized I was gone.

I scurried to my room, grabbed my phone, and pulled up a book. Logan and I needed to talk, but hell if I knew how, or wanted, to be the one to start that conversation.

At some point, I ended up falling asleep. I woke to sunshine bright in my windows and leapt out of my bed with a start.

Amelia. She had to be awake. She had to need me for something. I hurried out of my bed, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. With any luck, I wouldn’t have to see Logan but for a moment before he left for work and I could put off the inevitable.

I was rushing back to my room when my gaze caught on a flash of yellow outside.

I stopped, backtracked to the window, and shoved open the curtains.

They were there. Amelia and Logan were out in the backyard. She was sitting cross-legged on one of the paddleboards and he was standing on it. They must have just gotten started because he had his paddle in one hand, vertical, with the other end on the floating dock for balance.

They pushed off, and even from my window, the way his back muscles rippled with every movement he made had me wishing I could be out there with them. Joining them on a daddy-daughter morning ride. Listening to Amelia’s excitement over turtles and ducks and her nonstop chatter about all the fish she wanted to catch but didn’t want to touch.

My heart squeezed and then sank to my gut.

If there was any way I could fix this, I would. And that assuming Logan wanted anything more than I was already giving him.

Which I still didn’t even know. Despite his admission that he cared about me, I wasn’t sure it was enough. Not for what would come next.

I was on the back patio, drinking my coffee and planning out Amelia’s week with old-school notebook and pen when they returned. I’d already managed to fill out the grocery list, planned a few easy meals I could make, and added it to the app. There was another list I had going, for my own personal products. Amelia would be excited about a trip to Target with me, for sure.

Logan and Amelia pulled up on the paddleboard. I’d tried to ignore them, but who was I kidding. I watched every moment of their trek around the lake, even when I could only make them out as a blurred shape in the distance. It was the entire reason I was outside, anyway.

That, and as soon as Logan wanted to talk, the air inside would suffocate me.

Amelia ran up the backyard first, her arms flailing in the air and her long hair a tangled mess. So someone had been in a hurry to get outside as well.

“Miss Ruby, Miss Ruby! Did you see us? Daddy took me out today because he doesn’t have to go to work, and…”

He wasn’t working? He always worked Mondays. I stopped listening to everything Amelia said after. My quiet “Ohs” and “That’s nice” must have been sufficient because she was still happily chattering away about whatever she was talking about when Logan reached us.

“Amelia.”

“Yes, Daddy?”

He held out his arm. “Can I have your life jacket?”

“Oh.” She glanced down and undid her buckles. With a quick flip, she tossed it on the patio. “I need to potty!”

She ran inside, and I chuckled. It couldn’t be helped. Pretty sure throwing it on the patio wasn’t at all what Logan meant.

He glared at me as he bent to scoop it up and kept that glare on me while he draped her jacket over the back of the couch. Crossing his arms over his chest, he finally spoke, and when he did, spikes of ice traveled down my spine.

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