It took four weekends to finish laying the floor. It wasn't overly large, but the cottage was old and not terribly square, and twice they'd been interrupted by Storm and Hank who'd needed Logan up at the school.

Logan and Marie sat in the middle of the wide expanse of finished floor, sharing a beer between them and enjoying their handiwork. The wide rustic planks were beautiful. Solid and rugged but with a natural charm all their own.

"We did good, kid." He tweaked her ponytail. "Even if you are afraid of the power tools."

"Hey, if I cut something off, it's not going to regenerate." It hadn't stopped him from teaching her how to use every tool it had taken to get the job done. She was a quick study and good help. She had a mouth on her, but it had only made the job more fun. Her sense of humor was delightfully wicked.

"True. But you know I won't letcha get hurt."

She knew.

"Looks nice." Marie took the beer from Logan's fingers and necked the bottle. "What color were you thinking?"

"I dunno. Natural, maybe. Whatddya think?"

"I'm not sure. That's a lot of one color." He'd left the natural support beams exposed and he had plans for a cedar ceiling and she knew he intended to make most of the furniture himself. "Maybe walnut or espresso? Something rich and dark to show off the rest?" Something in his chest turned over at her words. He chose not to examine it too closely.

"Maybe." He took the beer back from her and drained it. "Want somethin' stronger? I was thinkin' we earned a bourbon out back with our feet up."

"Sounds good."

They settled into the deck chairs and he pressed a drink into her hand. The sun had set already but Marie could see he'd been working out back. He'd cleared a place for a fire pit and gathered a pile of stones to build it. The lake lay a short distance beyond the fire pit, lapping gently in the breeze. Fall was coming. The idea of sitting with him out here by a roaring fire was nice. Cozy.

She had a lazy smile on her face.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?"

"Sitting with you by the fire." She waved her hand in the general direction of the fire pit. The delicate silver rings she wore glittered cooly in the moonlight.

"Still too hot," he said, stripping off the flannel and wiping his face with it before sitting back in the chair and putting his feet up.

Wasn't that the truth? Marie's mouth watered and it had nothing to do with the fine drink in her hand or the sultry summer evening.

Logan's jeans were covered in dust, dirty at the knees and the hair on his head and forearms was sprinkled liberally with sawdust. His white tank was sticky and moist. It clung to his skin the same way Marie's little black tank clung to hers. She didn't wear gloves at his place. She didn't feel the need to and it was just dangerous with the power tools. He liked that she was thinking about sitting by the fire with him.

"I like it here, sugar. I like sitting by a fire, too." He was watching her face. She'd gone within, remembering a happier time. Maybe camping with her parents or bonfires with her friends before her life had changed course forever.

"Me too. I like the heat and watchin' the sparks drift up into the sky. S'peaceful."

"Yeah."

"And it's what people do, right? Sit around with a bunch of buddies, drinkin' and tellin' lies 'bout how often they scored and lamentin' that special one who got away." He felt a sudden bolt of discomfort. He'd meant it as a joke, but it had landed a little too close to the mark.

Marie snorted. "Well, I don't have any sex stories to tell. Sorry." She actually was. The idea of trading intimate stories with Logan had a certain… appeal.

"Well, I don't have a buncha good buddies to tell any lies to, so I guess that makes us even. I probably wouldn't know how, even if I did. We're just two outcasts sharin' the night. Nothin' wrong with that." His white teeth flashed in the darkness. He had always been able to put her at ease, seemingly without effort. "Besides, you said you had sex with yourself. That counts. Plenty of fodder there for a good story."

Sweet Jesus. That was the understatement of the century. He was playing with fire. It was fun now, but he had the sense it could get out of control very quickly. The thought somehow wasn't as terrifying as it should have been.

Marie blinked slowly. He couldn't possibly have been serious. It was too ridiculous to even contemplate.

"That's it. I'm cutting you off, sugar."

He chuckled. "S'my deck. My booze. Sorry, baby. You're shit outta luck." Lifting the bottle from the deck beside him, he refilled both their glasses. "You wanna go first or should I?"

Marie choked on her drink.

"Guess it's me then." He took a sip of the amber liquid in his glass. "There was this woman-"

"Logan!"

"That's what she said," he smirked.

"Shut up, already!"

"Fine. You go first then."

She sighed. He was like a dog with a bone. She knew he wasn't going to let this go. "Okay. Marie once had a boyfriend named David. She kissed him and he almost died. Then she got a new boyfriend named Bobby. She kissed him too, only he dumped her for her touchable friend Kitty so he wouldn't die. Bobby and Kitty had sex. Lots and lots of crazy monkey sex. Marie had her imagination and an overpriced piece of silicone, but no actual sex. The end."

Logan was shaking his head at her sass and trying not to think too much about silicone in that context. It was a losing battle. Her intimate confession didn't really surprise him. She was a sensual person, passionate and incredibly tactile. He should have realized she would compensate for the lack of physical contact. He forced back the pictures her words had painted in his mind's eye. "You and Bobby never…?"

"No. I wanted to but by the time I got back, he'd already fallen for Kitty."

"That sucks." He meant it, but a selfish part of him was also relieved. "What about after? You'd had the Cure. It worked for a while." She could have had anyone. Anyone she wanted. Waiting for her answer was painful. He was aware he didn't have any right to know. He'd had no claim on her then. He didn't really have one now, either. They had a deep bond because of what had happened before, and they had a close friendship that had broadened and grown out of the ashes of Jean's death, but she was not his. Not in that way.

Marie shrugged. "I tried to be that girl, sugar. I wanted to be her, even. There were men and bars and dancing and even some kissing and groping, but I guess when it comes down to brass tacks, it has to mean something or I don't want to. There's not a whole lot up here," she tapped her head, "that's just Marie anymore. I guess I didn't feel like giving up any of those Marie pieces to someone who didn't matter." She took a deep drink. "Now aren't you glad you asked?"

"I am, actually."

"You're just a glutton for punishment, aren't you?"

"Hell, yes." His eyes twinkled. "But we're not talkin' 'bout what I like. It's still your turn…"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't have any sex stories to tell."

"Yes, you do," he said softly.

"I'm not telling you about that!"

He shrugged. "You know I do it."

"You don't hear me asking about it though, do ya?" They were both very aware she hadn't said she wasn't interested.

"I'd tell you if you wanted to know." The words were quiet. Honest. They were coming dangerously close to the crossing the line between friendship and something more. She could never tell with him if he was actually interested as a man, or if it was some strange sense of duty he felt because he'd promised to look out for her. The Wolverine version of a come-to-Jesus birds and bees talk for an untouchable girl.

She took the easy way out and made a joke of it. "I don't need to ask. I've got you and five other men in my head, sugar. I don't think there's anything you could tell me about that subject that I don't already know. Granted it's from the male perspective, but it's not rocket science."

"Well, damn." He wasn't really kidding. He'd never thought about it like that. "So tell me about the erotica then." He generously refilled both their glasses.

"I see what you're doing there." She was pretty buzzed. An afternoon of hard work and a couple of drinks on an empty stomach was making her feel all floaty and loose.

"Ain't tryin' to hide it." He took a drink. "Why words and not pictures?"

"Because I have a very active imagination and there's nothing I've ever seen either in magazines or on film that even comes close to how hot it is in here." She touched her temple.

"Hell. I think I need another drink to put the flames out." He tossed back another, smiling at her as she giggled.

"What kindsa words?"

"Oh no. We are so not going there." She was not about to tell him what she read about to get herself off.

"Why not?"

"You don't hear me asking what kind of pictures you like looking at, do you?"

"Leggy brunettes with a nice rack," he said; his voice as even as if he'd just told her the time.

Despite how it sounded, Marie knew a challenge when she heard one. Especially from this particular man.

"Okay, then. Let's try this on. I don't just like to read erotica. I also like to write it."

He dropped his glass. The wet creep splashed onto his pants, wetting his thigh and running under his seat.

"Shit!"

"I guess I win."

He glared at her.

"You made that up." She didn't smell like she was lying, but he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around that one.

"Nope."

"Prove it."

Marie dug her phone from her back pocket and he watched her fingers tapping away before she hit send. "There. Texted you my penname and a website. Knock yourself out, cowboy." She was probably going to regret that in the morning when she was sober, but right now it felt pretty good. It wasn't often one got to see the Wolverine at a disadvantage.

Logan wasn't sure what to do with that information. The first course of action would probably be to buy a laptop. Screw being off the grid. He could make his mind up after that, though there wasn't even the smallest sliver of him that didn't want to read what she'd written. In general, he wasn't really big on personal restraint. If it felt good, he did it. Repeatedly.

She stood and immediately groaned as her tired, aching body protested. It had been a mistake to sit down so soon. She should have walked back the school and showered first.

"What?"

"Oh my God, my ass! I am SO sore." All that bending and stooping and squatting. It was worse than 'Ro's advanced yoga class.

He chuckled. "Want a massage?" That time he was clearly kidding and they both grinned.

"You know, if I could move I'd kick you, but your healing factor would just fix that, too."

"Yep. Thing's a real bitch sometimes. All that hard labor and I feel great."

"Now you're just rubbing it in."

"You sure you don't want that massage?"

"What? And deprive you of your need for that Playboy later?"

Well, that was the truth. He certainly wouldn't be interested in that if he'd spent the evening rubbing his hands all over every luscious inch of her, but admitting that seemed like one step too far.

He flashed his teeth at her. "It's Hustler this month."

Marie snickered and then groaned again as she swung her leg over the lounge chair and grimaced, steeling herself for the long walk back to the mansion.

His amusement dissolved at the first scent of her pain. "Hey, kid. Go inside and have a hot bath. There's a clean shirt on the back of the bathroom door. You know where the candles are. I'll stay out here." It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to just stay over, but he knew his limits. Wrapping a naked Marie in his scent and putting her in his bed when they were both drunk was probably only going to end up one way. "I'll be sober enough by then to give ya a ride back."

She considered that for a moment. "You promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."

"Okay."

It wasn't until she hobbled inside that he realized she'd sounded a little disappointed by his answer.

Up next: Round and Round. In which Marie loses a bet and Logan gets to have his cake... and eat it, too.