“Evidently it didn’t slice deep enough, because you’re still here tempting me to make that f**king mistake.”
Her lips tugged upward in a smile at his comment as she glanced at the counter. “You set out two coffee cups. My mother would be appalled if I were to be so rude as to leave now.”
He dropped his gaze to the counter. There were indeed two coffee cups set out. Matching cups. He was unaware he owned matching coffee cups.
It hadn’t been intentional.
“Why would you want me to share my coffee if that cut went so deep?” he asked even as he poured the coffee before picking up both cups and turning to her.
“Thanks, though it’s no wonder you never sleep if you drink coffee this early in the morning,” she pointed out knowingly as he handed her the drink. “And I rarely refuse coffee. If I did, I’d never get to drink it.”
She was obviously ignoring his question.
“I sleep fine.”
“You’re terse enough, so I highly doubt it,” she said with obvious patience.
Terse.
His cousin’s fiancée, Cami, had a tendency to call him that on occasion as well.
Lifting the cup to his lips, he sipped at his coffee rather than making a comment. He contented himself with the fact that he was trying to glare at Skye.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t fazing her. She was merely laughing at him as she sipped at the heated liquid herself.
And he still wasn’t certain how he felt about that. He knew standing in his kitchen arguing was only going to push him faster into taking her straight to his bed. And only God knew when Logan would allow either of them to come up for air after that.
Maybe weeks.
He could bet on months.
The problem was, he was pretty certain that he would keep this woman around indefinitely.
Big mistake there.
“Good coffee.” She shrugged as she lowered the cup, still watching him with gleaming emerald eyes. Tempting him. As though she knew his dick was fighting to take control and just waiting for the moment he would break.
Logan frowned. “Of course it’s good coffee. How can it be bad coffee?”
“I make bad coffee. Horrible stuff.” Her nose twitched as though in distaste.
She was lying to him. She had to be.
“You measure it into a filter, slide it in a pot, add water, and flip ‘ON,’” he said. “How do you mess that up?”
“Easy.” She shrugged as though it didn’t matter.
“I would have thought editors of boring tech manuals would have to know how to make coffee,” he pointed out.
Which might well be true, since she really wasn’t an editor, but telling him that was a great big no-no at the moment.
“And I would have thought a man of your intelligence and determination would be doing more than lazing around his house, ignoring his puppy, and waiting on an inheritance rather than proving his innocence,” she retorted sarcastically.
He only laughed at her.
“You think I have anything to prove to the bastards around here?” he questioned, though she was beginning to doubt the amusement in his gaze. “Come on, Skye, you should know better by now if you’ve listened to any of the gossip at all.”
She did listen to gossip, which was why she highly doubted it.
“Why do you do it, Logan?” She didn’t mean for the question to come out with such somber intensity. “Why do you let this county try to rip you apart without striking back?”
For a moment, she wasn’t certain he would answer her.
“Our mothers were the county’s sweethearts,” he said softly, surprising her. “Our fathers were the county black sheep, even before their parents’ deaths. Wild as hell and completely unconcerned about tact. When they married the daughters of the barons, everyone said David, Samuel, and Benjamin would bring them to a bad end. Thirteen years later, they did just that, as far as everyone was concerned.”
“That’s not a good enough reason.”
He laughed. “This place is like a f**king little fiefdom for the barons and their families, Skye. They are the reason for employment here. The reason why the county is sustained. And our mothers,” his voice softened, “they clothed the poor, fed the hungry, played Santa’s elves at Christmas, volunteered every weekend at the Socials to watch the children. They were everyone’s sweethearts. Everyone’s little sisters. And the fact that each of them was pregnant when they married our fathers only fueled the belief that they were somehow forced into marriage.”
“Incredible,” Skye murmured, shaking her head as she watched him closely. She could feel the regret and sadness that filled him.
She risked the question. “And twelve years ago? What happened then?”
Knowing sarcasm filled his expression. “I wondered how long it would take you to ask about that.”
She lifted her shoulders, her expression, she knew, was filled with the sympathy and regret she felt.
Logan sighed. “They were all wonderful, beautiful women. That’s what I keep trying to tell you, Skye. We didn’t kill them, but they definitely died because of us. Do you really want to join them by continuing to tempt me?”
Thankfully, the puppy saved her on that as it cried out as though in agony once again.
She started to say something anyway; then clamped her lips shut before she glanced toward the door leading to the living area, her expression turning accusing.
The pup was scratching at the glass. Whining. Again.
Logan pretended he was ignoring the dog even though she was slicing through his senses.
Again.
“You can’t let her just sit out there alone,” Skye finally said. “She cries every night, Logan. She’s breaking my heart.”
Logan sipped at the coffee again before replying. “I didn’t tell the little squatter to take up residence, now did I? Or to howl like it was dying every time someone else took it home, until they brought it back? If it bothers you so much, then take it home with you.”
The laughter was gone now. Just that fast, it erased quickly from her face and she was glaring at him.
Her eyes sparkled with nothing less than disapproval. Could have been more than disapproval, but tonight he was in an optimistic kind of mood. He was going to go for disapproval rather than the optional dislike.
“You really don’t like dogs?” She blinked back at him and the dislike—no, disapproval—was completely overshadowed by shock.