Page 25 of Defensive Desire

Who the hell was that guy back there? And why am I suddenly thinking about what he would be like with his own kids?

Lucky for me, the pet parade is charming chaos. And a good distraction from my spiraling thoughts.

Dogs in costumes that range from adorable to absurd mingle with cats being carried by owners who clearly value their lives. There's even someone with a bearded dragon wearing what appears to be a tiny cowboy hat not too dissimilar to Connor's.

Logan's shoulder brushes mine as we shift for a better view, and suddenly the parade becomes background noise as he slings his arm around my shoulders. The scent of his cologne floods my senses, my skin heating to a burn.

When I glance up, Logan's eyes are already on me, intense and searching. The noise of the crowd fades as his gaze drops to my lips.

Oh. Oh.

My heart might actually burst as Logan leans closer. His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone with devastating gentleness.

"Emma," he murmurs, and my name has never sounded like that before—like a prayer, like a promise.

Just as his lips are about to touch mine, Blake and the high school marching band suddenly bursts past us. The crowd is cheering, cymbals are crashing and drums thundering all around us.

It's a cacophony of noise that makes me jump back with a startled yelp.

Logan's face glows red, looking like he wants to personally dismantle every instrument within a five-mile radius.

"EMMA!"

Now Lucy's voice is cutting through the din as she rushes over, clutching a bag from Clara's booth.

"Oh my God! You have to try these lemon cookies!" She stops short, looking between Logan and me. "Uhhhh… did I interrupt something?"

"No," I say quickly. Too quickly. "We were just... watching the parade."

Lucy's eyes narrow suspiciously, but she doesn't push. Yet.

Logan clears his throat, the sound rougher than usual.

"I'll be right back," he says abruptly, already moving toward the brewery line where Coach Brody is chatting with Natalie over a beer.

"Logan, wait—" I start, but he's already walking away, his shoulders tight and tense.

I'm left holding the wolf plushie, my pulse still racing from our almost-kiss. Lucy gives me a look that promises questions later, but for now, I just watch Logan's retreating form.

What the hell just happened? And why did he leave so abruptly?

The wolf plushie's button eyes seem to mock me as I clutch it closer. One moment he's playing father-figure with my niece and nephew, then he was about to kiss me… and the next… he's walking away like I have the plague?

What the hell?

Chapter Seven

Logan

Islam the brewery's bathroom door harder than necessary and lean against it, my hands braced on either side of the sink.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

In the mirror, my reflection glares back.

My eyes are wild, looking every bit like the enforcer ready to drop gloves in the center of the ice. Except instead of squaring off with some asshole from Boston, I'm fighting against... against…

Against what? What the hell am I even fighting anymore?