Chapter 12

They forecast bright and sunnier spells for the rest of the week in Meridian, Mississippi. Rogue knew it to be true because she gazed out of the window as she paused her reading of the local newspaper. The sun shone happily, and darkened clouds failed to threaten the skies above them.

Sighing, she gazed around them in the waiting room. This auto repair shop felt familiar somehow. She studied the pine-panelled walls that surrounded them and wrinkled her nose at the dirty, grey tiles under their feet. That tug she felt meant she had been here before.

Logan scowled beside her on the couch. His eyes snapped to the TV screen in the corner, and he listened to the latest manufactured panic over mutants. Seconds later, he growled and left his seat. With a steady walk, he crossed the room and thumped his fist down on the roof of the TV. It bounced and creaked loudly under the strain of the adamantium force. He slammed his fist down a second time and the picture disappeared as wisps of smoke escaped the cracks on the screen.

Rogue gazed up from the newspaper. "Nobody listens to Elk News," she pointed out softly.

"If nobody paid attention, it wouldn't find homes in garbage dumps like this," he answered gruffly and looked around with an impatient glare.

She winced as she watched the TV fall apart, pieces of plastic casing clattering to the tiled floor. "Maybe next time consider using the remote."

"Look, I don't need advice from you," he answered, sitting down beside her again and fixing her with a frustrated look. "If you haven't forgotten, we're here because of your goddamn Texan."

She wrinkled her nose at his anger. "I doubt he did it on purpose, and do you know what else I think? You can't hold a one-hundred-year grudge against an entire state because of one silly mistake you made in a bar."

Logan held no memories of why he hated the state of Texas, but he lived by his instincts and sure as hell wanted her nowhere near Victor's thoughts. "How many times do we have to go over this, kid? Stay the hell away from Victor's memories and stay the hell out of my past." He pointed a finger at her face. "As for your Texan friend, he broke those goddamn taillights. If I ever track him down, I'll shove that baseball bat so far up his ass, he'll be tipping the brim of that stupid hat of his in goddamn hell."

As she listened to his rant, she rolled her eyes and turned the page of the newspaper. She gently pushed his finger away and smiled a little. "You're really grouchy this morning."

He settled back on the couch with a shake of his head. "What do you expect? You kept me awake all night with your snoring."

She gasped at his words, horrified. "You take that back! I don't snore, Logan. I've never snored."

Snorting at her in amusement, he thought about her for a moment or two. At least she would talk to him now. After her tears last night, she went straight to bed without a word and slept soundly. Once she woke, she refused to even look him in the eyes and spent her time reading over some old, tatty map he didn't recognise. He sighed, impatient to get back on the road. They had checked out of the hotel that morning and were almost on their way back to New York when they found the beaten SUV in the car lot.

With the comfortable silence setting in between them, Rogue finished reading the newspaper and draped it on the arm of the couch. She fidgeted a little and shivered. Her eyes found the source of the coldness, the overenthusiastic air conditioning unit. Sighing, she brushed her gloved hands over her arms. Why did she leave her coat in the car?

After a while, Logan shrugged off his jacket and offered it to her. "Here," he said. "Take it and warm yourself up."

"Thanks," she replied and took it from him gratefully. As she climbed to her feet and slipped the jacket on, she instantly felt the warmth of his body heat in the heavy leather material. Smiling slightly, she went to stand in front of the window and gazed outside.

Another hour passed, and Logan watched a mechanic push open a door to the workshop. His eyes narrowed when he caught sight of a Confederate flag on the back wall surrounded by posters of blonde and brunette models flashing their bare-chested assets. While he appreciated the latter, he grumbled at the sight of the hate symbol.

Rogue glanced at him and gently stepped a little closer. "I've been wondering," she said softly. "Do you think maybe we can buy tickets to the convention?"

As the door to the workshop closed, it snapped Logan out of his thoughts. He looked over at Rogue. With one hate symbol found tacked to a wall, an anti-mutant poster would never be far behind. "Here's what I'm proposing. No convention, and you go wait outside."

"Why do I have to wait outside? I know you don't like country music, but you take me to visit jukeboxes all the time," she replied, hopeful her words helped change his mind. "They'll have a beer waiting for you, and I might be lucky to meet a county singer."

"Do as you're told for once, kid" Logan growled impatiently at her.

Huffing to herself, Rogue stormed outside into the light breeze of a stupid Mississippi morning. Why did he always act that way? Pig-headed and rude beyond any Stetson-wearing, baseball bat-wielding Texan she had ever met. Anyway, the Stetson guy showed nothing but kindness to her. It wasn't her fault Logan had embarrassed himself each time he visited the South.

Boredly circling the mostly empty car lot, she slipped her hands inside the jacket to keep them warm. Her fingertips felt papers in Logan's pockets and curiosity stirred in her mind. Taking a seat on a curb, she wanted to sneak a small glance at the hidden paperwork. As she checked to see if he could see her, she saw no one at the windows at the auto repair shop. She settled into her sneaky ways and unfolded the first sheet of paper.

Her curious brow gently furrowed into confusion, further bewilderment, and then, as she opened the second paper, a quiet realisation they had lied to her.

Shielded by a truck as she pored over the birth certificates, she burnt the words into her mind. Anna Marie Darkholme. Anna Marie Darkholme. Anna Marie Darkholme. Fifteen. Fifteen Fifteen. Fifteen. A thought suddenly chased across her fragile mind. Last night her daddy recognised Mystique!

A set of sneakers climbed down from a nearby jeep and walked toward the auto repair shop. The owner of the sneakers stopped to retie his lace. He didn't spot her behind the truck and plodded toward the building, still irked about the burglary the night before.

Sitting impatiently on the couch, Logan grunted when he heard his name called. "Finally," he muttered and made his way over to the counter. He took his wallet out of his jeans pocket and eyed the oil-stained mechanic.

While the receipts were being printed, Logan grumbled over the final quoted price. The sneakers-wearing man opened the door and walked up to the counter. He removed his Confederate flag baseball cap and held it in his sweaty palm. Patiently waiting for the customer ahead to finish paying, he said good morning to the mechanic.

"Hey Owen, I'll be with you once this guy quits his pity party for one and pays up," the mechanic answered with a chuckle.

Logan scowled and handed over the money. Out of habit, he watched the other customer step forward and eyed him suspiciously.

Owen took out his wallet and placed it on the counter. He searched through it and found his loyalty card. "I need an oil change when you're ready," he said, wanting to collect his ten percent discount.

"You looked stressed, fella," the mechanic told him as he gathered the receipts.

"Would you believe it? I had a damn burglar visit us last night. It scared Pricilla half out of her mind. She's had to go straight to her mama's house this morning for a little vacation of sorts. It's all baking and piano playing with her usually, but that unwelcome visitor last night triggered the hounds of hell in her head. She was straight upstairs and whipped out the family bible."

Logan listened to them talk while he read over the itemised receipts. As he pocketed his wallet and snatched his keys from the mechanic's hand, he caught sight of Owen's wallet open on the counter. Through the transparent plastic pouch, he could make out the full name and address on the driving license. He tensed and growled to himself. Calming his thoughts, his head snapped to Owen D'Ancanto and his eyes narrowed.

Oblivious to the turn of events, Owen continued to chat with his mechanic friend. "She was awake the whole night quoting bible verses and wanting to cast the evil spirits away. I told her, 'Pricilla, darlin', we have no part in it anymore. That door closed on us a year ago, and good riddance."

Logan realised he needed to get to the kid before she crossed paths with her old life. He made his way to the exit, stuffing the receipts in his jeans pocket as he went. In his bad-tempered rush, he pushed past Owen and reached for the door handle.

Stumbling when their shoulders clashed, Owen glanced at the hurrying, plaid-shirted customer. "Whoa, buddy, watch where you're going."

Growling, Logan looked over his shoulder. "No, you watch it, bub," he warned, his temper close to combusting on the spot.

To diffuse the acrimonious situation, the mechanic asked another question of his good friend Owen. "Was anything taken?"

"Just a map. You remember that girl I used to bring here, you know, little Marie? The thief took her map. I don't understand it, but then again, nothing about her made any sense to me."

Logan's eyes narrowed again, and he swung the door open and headed outside. With an irritated growl forming deep in his throat, he made his way to the SUV and sniffed the air to track her down. As he drove toward the exit, he stopped by an orange truck. Normally, he would have a quip ready about the poor taste of the truck owner, but he looked close to murdering her on the spot. He wound down his window. "Get in," he ordered her gruffly.

Gazing up from her tennis shoes, Rogue frowned at his tone. Thankful she had already hidden the birth certificates back in his jacket pocket, she left the curb behind and walked to the SUV. "They didn't rip you off, did they?" she asked, deciding to pretend she knew nothing of the secrets she kept.

Keeping his own set of secrets, Logan glared at her as she handed over his jacket and settled down in her seat. As he added another southern state to his 'never again' list, he grumbled a nondescript string of curses and tossed his jacket onto the backseat.

She gave him an optimistic smile as she buckled herself in. "Can we discuss the country music convention?"

Logan lit a cigar and drove them away from the car lot. Relief settled inside him as they travelled towards the main highway out of the town he learned to hate. He inhaled a mouthful of smoke and looked at her. "I don't want to hear another word out of you until we arrive at the motel."

A hurt Rogue reached for a magazine in the footwell. If he wanted silence, she would gift him silence from behind the pages of her favourite magazine.

They made decent time, almost travelling non-stop through the southernmost states. Logan savoured the silence despite her nosing her way quietly through another one of those goddamn magazines. He left her to it and wondered what possessed her to break into her old home. Obviously, Owen D'Ancanto was a dick. The same could be said for the wife. Both dicks rooted to spouting Bible verses instead of living in the real world where everything seemed to be going to shit.

After a long drive with only bathroom and gas station breaks, Logan parked outside the motel in West Virginia. He heaved a sigh and eyed the kid. "What are you reading?"

Rogue looked up from the page of her magazine. Like he cared what the words said. He couldn't wait to be offended by her reading about womanhood. "If you do not crave cheese at three in the morning, are you even alive right now?" she quoted to him from a random sentence taken from a letter written by an avid reader.

With both eyebrows raised, he grunted and opened the car door. "Stay put and I'll check us in."

Smiling to herself, Rogue gazed at the page again. Ten minutes later, she kept reading word after word, even as Logan carried her duffle bag up the stairs and into her bedroom. As she trailed behind him at a distance, he retraced his steps and tugged her along the corridor by her wrist. "Just try not to let it rot your brain, kid," he said as he pushed her inside her room and closed the door behind her. Rogue rolled her eyes because he could be so dramatic about a subject like cheese when he wanted to be.

Early the next morning, a little after seven, Logan knocked on Rogue's door. He heard her footsteps and waited impatiently in the empty corridor. After a while, he knocked again and tried the doorknob. It opened, and he heaved a sigh. How many times did he have to tell her to lock the goddamn door? "You decent, kid?" he asked her as he stepped inside.

Darting across the carpet in a rush, Rogue nodded, dressed in a towel, with damp hair pinned in a messy bun. "I'm decent and nearly ready. I won't be a minute, I promise."

Logan snorted, amused by her words, and turned to the door, deciding to go wait in his room. But suddenly, something that had caught his eye bothered him. He watched her pick up a bundle of creased clothes. "What's that on your back?"

She glanced at him and carried her almost-clean clothes over to the bathroom. "It's just an angry bruise," she replied and shut the door behind her.

Standing by her bed, his brow furrowed. He figured the whole bruise thing would be none of his business, but the more he thought about it, the less he enjoyed being kept in the dark. "How'd you get it?"

Rogue dressed quickly and dragged a comb through her tangled hair. As she fought a stubborn knot, she walked back into the room and gazed at him. "It doesn't matter. It's in the past." She thought her response sounded responsible and polite, because what use would it be talking about her past when she needed to focus on the future?

After a while, Logan picked up her duffle bag while she continued to comb out her frizz-ball hair. He watched her quietly curse at the motel hair dryer and he sighed. After several more minutes of her blaming it for the mess on her head, he interrupted her. "Look, just tell me how you got the bruise."

She crouched down to unzip her duffle bag and tucked the comb inside a pouch. "You told me I deserved it."

His eyes narrowed angrily at the accusation. "I never said that, kid."

"Yes, you did. On the stairs in the hotel in Meridian. You said guys were mean to me because of the way I am. I get it, Logan. Most folks don't like me. I'm okay with that because it's probably what God wants for me."

Logan snorted at her use of the word 'God'. "You're not dealing with bible thumpers here. You need to head back to the real world and tell me what happened."

She stood and reached for her coat tiredly. As she slipped it on, she gazed at him sadly. "Why? So you can pretend to care about me again?"

He heaved a sigh and caught her arm before she could run into the corridor. Right now, he had no intention of losing her. He guided her to the door and out to the car lot, ignoring her attitude along the way. Dumping her duffle bag at his feet, he unlocked the car and held her still for a moment. He sighed again because he cared about her. "Give me his name."

"I don't even know his name," she replied petulantly and pulled away from him. Sliding inside her seat, she crossed her arms and fixed him with an outraged look when he paced angrily. "This isn't about you. He bullied me, Logan. Not you. He scared me. He intimidated me. He hurt me. And I did nothing in response but run to the cage and watch you fight."

He swung around with a fierce growl. "That happened in the bar in Maryland?"

Rogue huffed quietly and gazed down at her tennis shoes. "I don't need your guilt, either. All I want is for everything to go back to the way it was before all this happened. I don't need someone to protect me all the time. I just need my life to give me some peace because I swear it hates me and I hate it right back."

Logan grimaced when she slammed the car door closed. With a grumble, he lit a cigar and smoked it as he packed up the trunk with their luggage. By the time he settled down behind the wheel, he looked calmer, but inside he raged. He snuffed the cigar out on his hand and grit his teeth as it charred his skin.

From West Virginia to the border of New York State, the atmosphere between them in the car remained frosty. By the time they reached the outskirts of Westchester, Rogue glanced at the late afternoon sun and sighed. Things were worse between her and Logan than before they left the mansion. She checked her coat pocket for her old map and gently unfolded it, worried she would tear the delicate paper.

When Logan parked outside the mansion gates, he wound down the window and glanced at her. "Why did you do it?" he asked as he typed in the passcode.

She frowned at the question, puzzled by his words. "Can you please be a little more specific? A lot's happened in the last few days."

He furrowed his brow. She really spoke some words of truth there. "Why'd you break into your old house and take that map?"

The frowning Rogue gazed over at him, surprised at first and unwilling to tell him anything. She tried to work him out as he glared at her. How did he know about her visiting her mama and daddy's home?

When the gates swung open, they drove toward the garage in an uncomfortable silence. But as soon as Logan turned off the ignition, all hell broke loose between them. "You owe me an explanation, kid," he growled at her, his temper ready to implode.

Rogue watched the way his teeth clenched and the furious facial expression he used when his whole forehead wrinkled. With his face schooled in fury, usually, she would apologise or say something sensitive, but she was past caring. She might as well have struck a match and set fire to Jean with her next words. "It was just a handgun. One tiny little gunshot. It didn't hit me, and I escaped out of my window. Not that it's any of your concern, Logan. I don't know who's been telling tales, but it's really unkind to listen to rumours, even when there's some truth in them."

Logan thought he could feel steam escaping from his ears. He watched her leave the car and carry her magazine, map, and a brown paper bag inside with her. With a growl, he figured this fatherhood stuff had really done a number on him. He scrubbed a hand over his weary face and suddenly realised something. Did she mention being threatened with a goddamn gun and then follow it with a lecture about his behaviour? With a snarl, he finally had enough of the bullshit and furiously tracked her scent inside.

"Welcome home, Rogue. Did you enjoy your trip?" Storm asked with the warmest of smiles.

Victor eyed the girl with some suspicion because he could smell his brother's rage. He leaned against the kitchen counter with his arms folded and watched her rustling through a brown paper bag.

Pretending to be cheerful, Rogue approached Storm and Victor. She opened the bag and searched inside. "I brought you back a little gift," she said as she ignored Storm's question.

Walking into the kitchen, Logan stopped in his tracks when he spotted Victor. He stared at him with a raised eyebrow. "What happened to you?"

Storm laughed slightly and gazed at the two men. She thought Victor's groomed look suited him. With his hair shorter and his beard trimmed, he seemed to settle into everyday life with less of an internal struggle. At least, that's how she felt about the situation. She doubted he had given it much thought.

"Leave it alone, Jimmy," Victor growled and looked down at the girl when she wandered his way.

Rogue handed him a white fridge magnet framed with a red border in the shape of a Mississippi map. It had lettering in the centre that listed Mississippi facts. "Can you believe the only place I could buy souvenirs in my home state was the very last gas station we stopped at before we crossed into Alabama? The teeny store only sold gas, Kool-Aid pickles, fridge magnets and coffee." She then turned to Storm and gifted her a fridge magnet of a magnolia blossom.

"Thank you, Rogue. It's beautiful," Storm said and gazed in concern at Logan's scowling face. "Did you enjoy your trip?"

Logan watched Rogue leave the kitchen, and he shook his head gruffly in answer to Storm's question. He stalked after her while Victor looked down at the fridge magnet in his hand.

Storm placed her magnolia blossom on the refrigerator door and gazed at Victor. "Are you alright?"

"Nothing a trip between the sheets with you wouldn't help fix," he answered with a grin cast her way.

As Storm walked toward him, she picked up one of the national newspapers. She tapped the front page, drawing his attention to the headline. "Weather panic on the eastern seaboard, from Florida to Maine."

He reached for her and growled lustfully as he pulled her close, his hands on her ass. "It ain't my problem."

Storm gazed up at him, the lust evident in her eyes, too. "It's your problem when your equipment causes the issue, Victor."

A proud smirk tugged at the corner of Victor's lips, and he watched his woman closely. A half-hour spent stamping out the Friends of Humanity in Florida had led to the rest of the trip spent in their shared hotel room in their shared bed. He had finally made her scream, and he enjoyed every minute of it with every position possible. He was damn sure they broke records as they fucked the days away.

"Not until I can control myself," Storm announced, much to his dismay. "Would you like to meditate together instead?"

"Meditate?" Victor groaned loudly and not in an entertaining, let-me-hear-you-scream way.

Logan, meanwhile, traipsed after Rogue's scent and found her in the rec room beside Jubilee. The latter looked like she had dressed as a goddamn banana, and he decided he didn't understand fashion. He watched them hug excitedly, and he grimaced at their high-pitched squeals.

"I brought you back a fridge magnet. Don't ask, but it's all I could find," Rogue said and gave her the small gift.

"Thanks. I love it, girl," Jubilee grinned, gazing down at the Mississippi mud pie fridge magnet. She glanced over at Logan with an irritating grin. "Hey Wolvie, where's my gift?"

With a scowl, Logan looked from Rogue to Jubilee. "Scram," he ordered, not in the mood for more bullshit.

"Okay, okay, I get the message," Jubilee said and winked at Rogue as she marched to the door. "He's too cute when he's pissed."

Rogue pulled a disgusted face and scrunched up her empty brown bag. Once again, Jubilation Lee had lost her mind. She went to follow her best friend, but Logan blocked her route with a steady scowl. "I don't want to talk to you," she warned him quietly.

"You don't have to, but you're going to listen," he growled, looming over her. With his hands deep in his jeans pockets, he looked around the empty room. Who the hell would choose to be a father? "These past few days have taught me something, kid. Something I should have done a long time ago."

"You be sure to tell your students about it in the morning," she told him sassily and didn't even feel sorry about answering him back.

Logan's brow furrowed, and he shook his head at her attitude. "You're grounded."

The shocked Rogue's jaw dropped open, and she stared at him in stunned silence. She shook her head in disbelief because this had to be a joke. He continued to scowl at her, not budging, even when her gaze turned from shock to outrage. "You can't ground me!"

"I just did," he answered matter-of-factly and headed toward his bedroom.

Now it was Rogue's turn to chase him through the halls, avoiding the other students as they rushed outside to play sports. She caught up with him on the staircase and blocked his way as he climbed the first three steps. "Wait a minute, you can't start acting like my daddy. I already have one and he's not perfect, but he's probably still mine once he puts the gun away."

He shoved her gently out of his path and climbed several more steps. "Don't you have schoolwork to catch up on?"

The way he casually sidestepped her anger and answered with words knotted around her studies infuriated her. She ran up the stairs until she overtook him. As she faced him, she once again blocked his path. "I don't think you understand what you're saying, doing, or thinking. Listen to me, Logan. I'm seventeen, and I can make my own decisions. I'm nearly fully grown."

Logan frowned when he detected a lie from her. He sniffed at her scent and his brow furrowed further. His hands instantly went to his pockets, and he pulled the birth certificates out. Her scent clung to them, and he looked at her. "You're fifteen," he reminded her.

"I'm seventeen and you're a damn liar," Rogue replied confidently and narrowed her stubborn eyes at him.

He snorted at that, pocketed the papers, and shifted her firmly out of his way. As he set her down on her feet safely on the top step, he whispered gruffly in her ear. "You're fifteen and grounded for a month."

An enraged Rogue swung around and watched him head down the hall. She raced after his long strides and grabbed hold of his jacket sleeve to tug him back. "Have you lost your mind? A full month! That's four whole weeks! What did I do to deserve that?!"

Logan stopped walking and fixed her with a dark look. She knew perfectly well what she'd done. It started with some housebreaking. She nearly got herself killed over a stupid map, and then she shacked up temporarily with her Texan friend who drove her back to the hotel drunk. "Take your pick, kid," he answered and walked ahead.

"You're so judgemental," Rogue raged and kept her furious grip on his jacket sleeve.

He reached the second staircase and eyed her with a heavy sigh. She was the most judgemental person he knew. "You gonna keep this tantrum up all the way to my bedroom door?"

"You're an asshole," Rogue snapped, letting go of his sleeve. "You're a horse-thieving, redhead-riding, three-time hanged convict who will never be my daddy as long as I've got breath in my body to holler at you until you take your seat in the hottest, fieriest pits of hell."

A calm Logan merely grunted in response to her rant. He climbed the second staircase and listened to her footsteps behind him. She could scorch every last scrap of the mansion with her words for all he cared. "You're still grounded," he muttered and set her off again.

"I swear to God, your lying ass will never be family to me. Do you hear me, Logan? I have a mama and daddy, and whether they know it or not, they love me. They love me unconditionally and one day I'll move back there and live a happy life. I can't stay here with you because the next thing I know, I'll be chasing redheads across state lines and running back to steal horses from paddocks along Route 9," she complained without noticing they had walked past her bedroom door. "Lord knows what Victor would teach me. You're both crazier than those barrels of counterfeit beer you both stole in 1872. Do you understand me? I'm seventeen, you're not my daddy, and you can't ground me."

Finally, Logan had heard enough. He paused outside his door and growled at her. With a scowl, he pointed to her bedroom. Even when he smelled the scent of Jean coming toward them, he still didn't break the glare he shared with the kid. "Go to your room, Marie." His words were rough and left little space for any argument.

When he used her real name, Rogue's eyes softened for a few moments. She almost apologised for her spiteful words, but when Jean arrived, she remembered he only acted like he cared when they had company. Huffing furiously to herself, she marched down the hall with her gloved fists tightly clenched, not caring she had crumpled her magazine.

Jean glanced at the girl's retreating form and then gazed at Logan. "How was the trip?"

Breathing a sigh of relief at being home and kid-free, Logan looked at Jean with frustration. He grimaced as he heard Rogue slam her bedroom door shut. "Does that answer your question?"

She waited for him to unlock his door and followed him inside. "Well, in my eyes, it's successful. You brought Rogue home. The real Rogue this time, not the frightened girl with the voices in her mind."

Logan snorted in amusement. "That's the real kid, huh?" he muttered, realising he was screwed. "I can't do this, Jean. Hell, I just grounded her, and she comes back at me with the attitude of a thousand Rogues. Did you hear her out there? She's carrying hope her bible-thumping family takes her back. They're gun-toting confederate flag worshippers with links to Mystique, but she figures they're a better option than me." He cursed under his breath when he remembered he had left his rucksack in the car.

Gazing at him, Jean smiled. "It suits you, Logan," she murmured, walking toward him with the beautiful saunter he loved to witness firsthand.

He relaxed as he breathed in her scent and wrapped his arms around her hips. They kissed and their heated gazes met. "What suits me?" he questioned, his voice rumbling in her ear while he kissed her neck and listened to his door lock.

With the use of her telekinesis, Jean twisted the lock and closed the curtains. Faint sunlight still bled through gaps in the shades, but she plunged the room into dimly lit darkness. She breathed a quiet and appreciative moan as he reached for the zip on her dress. "Fatherhood," she murmured in response, tilting her head slightly while he kissed her.

When Logan tugged the zip downwards, he stood back to watch the magnificent show. Her dress slipped down her perfect body and pooled dramatically at her feet. He raised an eyebrow at her lacy red panties and matching bra. "You're turned on," he said, smirking at the warming pull of her scent.

Jean stepped out of her heeled shoes and moved closer to his bed. She unhooked her bra and, with one hand, gathered the lacy material across her bare chest. "I appreciate a man who cares."

Logan watched her hips sway and waited impatiently for her to drop the bra to the floor. Growling in anticipation, he untucked and unbuttoned his shirt. As he kicked off his boots, he closed the distance between them and realised once again how relieved he was to be home.