“She’s always right, huh?” Tess guessed with a cheeky grin.
Logan laughed. “She sure thinks she is.”
“That’s sweet that you cooked for her. Are you any good?”
“What, at cooking?” He put a hand on his heart as if affronted. “Of course I am!”
“Well, good. That makes one of us.” She laughed, but said earnestly, “You’re clearly a devoted son. Your mom is lucky to have you.”
“Well, I’m all she’s got.” Logan briefly explained about how his father had died years ago and his brother lived his own life in the Northwest. “So, the way I see it, she and I are lucky to have each other. Just wish she’d get off my back about getting married.”
Tess gave him a look. “What?”
“Ah, hell. She means well. She just . . . She wants me to settle down. I tried that once, and it was a disaster. I’m not cut out for relationships, much less married life.” He sat back. “I do better on my own. But she doesn’t get that. I, uh . . .” He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face and beard as he admitted, “I know she doesn’t want me to be alone after she passes, so she worries. It’s that simple. So I get it, but jeeeez, I wish she’d lay off.”
Tess chuckled.
“That’s funny to you?” he asked, unable to hold back his own budding grin.
“That last part? Yeah, a little,” she admitted. She sat up a bit straighter to gesture over him with her hands. “Look at you! You’re this tremendous, powerful guy. Strong, capable . . . and your mom’s giving you a hard time about dating? That’s kind of funny.”
“Yeah, if you’re not the one who has to hear about it all the time,” Logan grumbled, but his smile gave him away. “Sounds fucking pathetic, doesn’t it.”
They laughed together, and Tess set her hand on his forearm. “You know what? I wish my mother gave enough of a crap about me to worry about if I’d end up alone, or if I was okay, or if I was happy. I haven’t seen her in over a year. Before that, I hadn’t seen her in two years, and who knows when I will again. She’s too busy jet-setting around Europe to bother with her children or grandchildren. So your mom may be a little overbearing, but she sounds wonderful to me.”
“She is,” he said. He looked deeper into Tess’s eyes. “I’m sorry your mom sounds like a real . . . piece of work.”
“No worries. I’m used to it.” Tess’s gaze softened, turned sad. “I’m sorry your mom is so sick. So deeply sorry.”
His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard. “Thank you. Me too.”
They stared into each other’s eyes, connecting silently. She reached over to give his hand a squeeze, and when she did, something like an electric current shot right up his arm.
Damn, he wanted to draw her in, hold her close. He didn’t, though. That would blow their “no pressure, non-date” sky-high. He’d promised her a friendly evening, and he was a man of his word.
“Half an hour to midnight!” someone shouted, and people in the place cheered.
“Night’s flying by,” she murmured, still staring at him even as she withdrew her hand.
“I know.” He cleared his throat and scrubbed his hands over his face, as if to wake up from whatever spell she’d just put him under. It’d be all too easy to drown in the depths of her marine-blue eyes. But something . . . something had just passed between them. Had she felt it too? “I have to tell you, I’m enjoying this. I’m glad I asked you out, and I’m glad we’re here. Thanks for saying yes.”
“Thanks for asking me. This is nice.” She nestled back against the cushions. Her red V-neck top shifted, molding itself tighter to her narrow frame, and he tried not to stare. He bet her small breasts would fit perfectly in his hands, and in his greedy, wanting mouth. Shit. He averted his gaze, looking around the room, trying to clear the sizzling images of her naked body from his mind. “Better get those hot cocoas.” He got to his feet.
* * *
At a quarter to midnight, Logan and Tess were talking about classic movies when a tall, dark-haired man came over. With an easy smile, he sat himself down on the wooden coffee table beside their mugs of cocoa. “What, you don’t say hello? Some friend you are.”