Page 33 of Defensive Desire

The first fat snowflakes begin to fall outside, creating a magical backdrop that feels like something from a Christmas movie.

"It's snowing," I observe, tilting my face up to catch a flake on my tongue.

Logan watches me with amusement. "Very observant."

"I'm full of brilliant observations." I playfully bump his shoulder. "Like how you're not wearing a jacket despite how freaking cold it is."

He shrugs, the picture of stubborn masculine pride. "I'm fine. Don't know what you're on about."

Like my body is determined to prove a point, I shiver against the biting breeze that blows across us. Logan immediately notices.

"Here." He slips off his sweater without hesitation, revealing a fitted black t-shirt underneath that does absolutely sinful things to my ability to think clearly.

"Logan, you don't have to—"

"I want to." He drapes the sweater around my shoulders, and I'm immediately enveloped in his scent. It's oh-so masculine that being swarmed by it makes me want to bury my face in the fabric.

The sweater is massive on me, the sleeves hanging past my hands, but it's warm and soft and smells like him. I resist the urge to bring the collar to my nose and inhale deeply.

"Better?" he asks, adjusting the sweater on my shoulders.

"Much."

As we walk, our hands brush once, twice, three times. Each contact sends sparks shooting up my arm. On the fourth brush, Logan catches my fingers in his, intertwining them like it's the most natural thing in the world.

His hand is warm, calloused from years of hockey, and completely dwarfs mine.

But somehow, it fits perfectly.

"Is this okay?" he asks quietly.

I squeeze his hand in answer, smiling up at him. "More than okay."

Ridgeview Tavern glows warmly against the snowy night, its windows casting golden squares of light onto the sidewalk. The moment we step inside, the warmth hits us, along with the scent of hearty food and the sound of laughter.

"Well, well, well." Eli Thompson grins widely from behind the bar, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Look what the snow blew in. Our boy Kane, all cleaned up and looking respectable."

Logan's jaw tightens, but I can see the affection beneath his gruff exterior.

"Table for two, Eli," Logan says, pointedly ignoring the curious looks from several regulars.

"Course, course. Right this way, lovebirds."

I'm pretty sure I hear Logan mutter something unflattering under his breath.

Eli leads us to a cozy booth in the corner, complete with worn leather seats and a small candle flickering on the scratched wooden table. Logan holds out his hand to help me slide in, then takes the seat across from me.

"Now, what can I get you two to start? On the house, naturally."

Logan raises an eyebrow. "Nothing's on the house, Eli. You'd charge your own mother."

"Hey now, that woman raised me right. She deserves to pay full price." Eli winks at me. "But for Iron Ridge's newest power couple? First round's on the old man."

I feel my cheeks heat again.Power couple?

After Logan orders us both beers and Eli saunters away with a satisfied smirk, I fidget with my napkin.

"He seems... enthusiastic about us," I say carefully.

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