His door was right across from hers. What the f**k was her problem?
Folding his arms across his chest as he glared down at her, watching as the dog sat on her haunches and stared up at Logan as well, panting happily now. The squashed-in dark little face was creased in bliss, as though just the sight of him pleased the little scrap. And he couldn’t understand why.
He was the bastard trying to give the dog away, not a savior.
Skye snorted at his statement, her gaze as confrontational as her smart-assed mouth. “I’m a vampire. I prefer the night,” she replied drolly. “There now, you have your explanation. Can I go back to visiting with the only sociable member of your little family or do I have to deal with you too?”
He wanted to wipe his hand over his face in an attempt to convince himself he was still asleep, but there was no way in his wildest fantasies that he could conjure up such a farcical dream.
Especially the part where he swore he could glimpse her ni**les through the lace and soft-as-silk chiffon covering them.
“I didn’t ask for infantile bullshit,” he said slowly, clearly, desperate to ignore the warmth now penetrating his sneaker as the pup crossed between them and flopped over his sneaker to sleep. “I asked what you were doing on my back porch irritating the hell out of me. I thought we agreed you were going to stay away from me?”
Her eyes widened before her gaze slid down his body, though not in appreciation of it, but rather to glance at the now drowsy little bag of fur on his feet as though the answer to his question were self-evident.
Son of a bitch. He hadn’t asked for this. He distinctly remembered not asking for these kinds of problems.
“The sociable part of your family,” she stated again. “I was visiting. I was not bothering you.”
“Then take it home,” he ground out between clenched teeth as the puppy shifted for a better position on his foot. “It’s not and never has been a part of my family.”
A slender brow arched mockingly. “I think she’s under the impression she’s already home.”
Logan didn’t stop to think or to consider his actions. The feel of the warm little body draped over his sneaker, her little heart pounding against the leather, brought back memories he rarely allowed himself to revisit. Reaching down, he gripped the scruff of the puppy’s neck as he opened the door and with the utmost gentleness deposited the puppy back onto the patio before closing the door in the scrap’s disappointed little face.
“Take it home with you,” he told Skye coldly. “It has no business here.”
And neither did she.
And his heart was breaking.
The pup’s cries threatened his determination and the look of disappointment and pity on Skye’s face threatened his control.
CHAPTER FIVE
Logan had known, even as a child watching the hell his parents had gone through in their battle against his grandparents, that unless it ended, his wouldn’t be a life that could be shared with a woman and a pup. And when you had the woman and the pup it wasn’t long before the kids or, in his parents’ case, the kid followed.
And it was that kid who was left to suffer when the parents were no longer there to protect him.
He almost shuddered in pure, gut-wrenching male horror because he could actually imagine the kids. A girl with Skye’s dark hair and delicate features. Or a boy with his dark hair and her dark eyes.
“Do you have to be an ass all the time, Callahan?” Slender arms crossed over pert br**sts he knew intimately as a frown creased her brow and the image of kids, thankfully, disappeared. “What’s your deal anyway?”
“My deal, as you put it, is being disturbed in the middle of the night because of your dog fetish,” he grumped as he forced himself to turn and stomped back to the kitchen.
He would have preferred a stiff shot of whisky, but his cousins had been bitching about the amount he’d been drinking lately. He’d promised to cut back, so he’d just cut it out instead.
“I don’t have a dog fetish. What I have is a coldhearted, selfish neighbor who refuses to take care of the animal parked on his patio,” she informed him as she followed, bare feet and all. He was trying to ignore the fact that all she wore was a damned long shirt.
Making his way to the kitchen as she followed, Logan made the coffee in the dark. He didn’t want to turn the lights on and risk seeing through the soft, soft material to silken flesh and dark, hard little ni**les.
Definitely no panties.
His c**k was like steel wedged beneath his jeans, and it would probably be prudent to ensure she wasn’t aware of it. All it would take was the slightest spark to set fire to the arousal he could feel threatening to burn out of control between them.
“I’m going to assume you dislike puppies,” she said as though it were a crime as he remained silent and measured grounds into the basket of the coffeemaker. “How can a man that kisses like a pirate dislike puppies?”
Bemusement filled her expression as the last part of her comment made his lips actually ache to kiss her again. “That should be illegal or something.”
The fact that she was staring at him accusingly did nothing to deter the want-to surging through his senses.
He ignored her, just as he pretended to ignore the whine coming from the patio and the hunger raging between them.
“You’re not answering me, Callahan,” she reminded him with an edge of anger now.
“You didn’t ask a question; you made a comment,” he reminded her. “You said you were going to assume I didn’t like puppies, and said I kissed like a pirate. Thanks by the way.” He shot her a mocking smile, hoping it would piss her off enough to make her leave, because he couldn’t seem to do it himself. “Why argue the assumption when all it’s going to do is delay your departure before we both make a helluva mistake.”
He ignored that fist-sized lump of regret that seemed to grow in his gut.
And in his balls.
“Wow, that just sliced to the bone,” she said mockingly as he watched from the corner of his eye. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called a mistake before.”
It didn’t seem to bother her overmuch.
She propped herself against the counter and his dick nearly pushed past his zipper.
Son of a bitch, that confection of lace and, according to his research, chiffon, a chiffon so soft, so silky, it almost vied with her flesh in softness.