Page 28 of Consuming Logan

She hadn’t.

Instead, his little rebel had completed multiple online searches on second trimester pregnancy, firearms, and self-defense. Seems Logan had underestimated her protective instinct. She’d caught him off guard with the mention of the military renovation project. After a week out of the office, Ava prepared to return to work. Logan was having a hard time processing the surprise. He hated surprises, especially when it involved his desire to keep her safe. The stubborn woman thought she would leave his sight. No way would that happen.

Since his discharge from SCMC, his sweet Navy nurse had transformed into an Army drill sergeant. A chalkboard with magnets mounted to the refrigerator outlined in dusty pink letters his diet, medication administration, and daily finger exercises. Logan would heal better with sex. At least, his carnal thoughts told his brain getting lost inside his woman was a miracle cure. Sex-starvation had elevated his blood pressure. That wasn’t exactly true, but it had erased his good humor. He’d insisted sex be included as one of his activities of daily living, but Ava had dosed him with two Percocet pain pills, and he had drifted back to sleep before he could make his closing argument. His brain had started to play trick or treat with the details from that fretful night and beyond. Maybe Ava was uninterested in sex with him because he’d failed to keep her safe?

Stepping onto the back patio, a twelve-ounce water bottle in his unbandaged grip. Ava knelt in her garden. She enjoyed working with her hands. As she tended to her plants and vegetables, adding moisture, feeding seedlings, cutting off the dead limbs, he envisioned her worries flowing from her fingertips into the earth. Bulky yellow gardening gloves covered both hands, a scattering of lawn tools were stacked next to her on the rear porch, and there was a half empty bag of potting soil next to the grape tomato vines. A messy waterfall of curls fell forward over one shoulder. Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead and brows. She looked peaceful, but exhaustion clung to the dark circles underneath her eyes. He inhaled the warmth. The air held the sweet scents of gardenia, rose, and lavender. Her talents for making things grow was evident in the four-foot tall violet hydrangeas and rose bushes lining the length of the scaling wrought-iron privacy fence. Their home, yard included, reflected the gentle beauty of the woman he loved.

He smiled, watching as she gripped the trowel handle in both hands and plunged it into the soil, once, twice, three times. Logan had always appreciated Ava’s calm to his hotter temperament.

“I’m going to kill you,” she hissed at a spindly green weed invading the baby carrots.

Okay, he frowned. Maybe, peaceful wasn’t the best adjective to describe her mood. A red flush fanned out from her chest and rose to her face. He watched in silence as she continued to swing the trowel, axing through the offending vegetation. Obviously, the last nine days had been a silent hell for both of them.

“You mad with me?” he asked, coming to stand over her. Ava looked up from her kneeling position momentarily distracted from herpruning. Like her garden, Ava’s strength lay buried beneath the surface. Those tiny seeds she nurtured to maturity, people like Maribelle assumed they could trample her with ease. Similar to the garden she showered with care and attention, Ava always sprang forth, pushing against the resistance until she triumphed.

“Depends,” she rasped, her tone flat. It was Saturday morning. The sun heated his skin faster than Ava’s air fryer. It was too hot for her to be outside on her hands and knees toiling in the dirt. She delayed seeking his gaze. He could hear her forcible exhaling, the anger applied to the tiny weed dissipating.

“On what, sweetheart?” He moved closer, blocking the light.

Finally, eyes shielded from an intrusive sun, Logan watched as her penetrating gaze swept over him with ample amounts of appreciation and concern. He felt his blood heat as her gaze lingered on his groin, before journeying higher.

“Is Jared lurking in the bushes with an icy tube of sonogram jelly?”

Okay he’d gone nuts when she mentioned vaginal bleeding. Even without physical trauma, women suffered miscarriages routinely. Ava’s side and hip were a geography map of fading yellow and green bruises. Fury cut through him every time he spied the damage that bastard had caused. Logan would make him pay in blood. Darwin had volunteered to use his resources in search of the attacker. Logan wasn’t much for accepting help, but the danger they faced required, to use one of Ava’s military terms, all hands on deck.

“Three is my lucky number.” And, after listening to their baby’s strong and steady heartbeat during the third procedure, he was confident his son or daughter hadn’t been injured. The crushed grip encircling his chest had loosened, but it wasn’t gone.

Ava’s eyebrows soared skyward. “Your father has called three times to talk with you.” Her brows dropped, pulling in a deep furrow. “You should call him back. It has to be important.”

Her voice sobered, losing some of the playful notes. Why was she so adamant? Logan had debated on returning the phone call, especially after receiving a rare text message, but he couldn’t focus on Masters’ family drama. Ava had to be his priority.

“I’ll see him tomorrow at Sunday dinner.” Yes, they had extended invitations to both families to announce the baby’s fall arrival. Because Ava’s period had continued, Jared determined via the ultrasound that their baby was healthy and would arrive in four and a half months.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But I’m not finished.”

Damn, how much anesthesia had he received? What else had he said or done while under the influence. He might need a priest if the atonement continued.

“Need I remind you, three is lucky for a reason.”

She gave him a slow smile, the corners of her lips pulling up into a wicked grin. “Are you going to bully me into staying home, doctor?”

Tension rolled through him. He also had a commitment. She and the baby were his priority. They were in danger. He didn’t give a whip about her patients or his until the threat had been eliminated. Her eyes widened in shock when she noticed he’d removed his right arm support sling. The support sling for his right arm lay on the bed. He needed to convince her his pain control had reached a tolerable level. The sling had to go if he had any hope of communicating his condition had much improved.

“Bully is a strong word, Ava mine.”

“You’re an incorrigible man. What would you call it?” She dropped her hand, shucking the gloves. “And why did you remove the sling?”

He relaxed as the lines bracketing her mouth softened. A serene expression softened her face subtracting another five years off her youthful appearance. He relaxed; glad she wasn’t poised for an argument. “It’s called persuasion. The sling interferes with my art form.”

He had every intention of enticing her to wrap a soft palm around his length until he grew long.

“I’m an active duty nurse, Logan. I swore an oath to support and defend. This attacker won’t sabotage what I’ve built,” she challenged. “I am going back to work.”

Determination colored her every word. Pride swelled in his chest. He reveled in how quickly she’d risen to leadership within the military system. He was glad she took her career and his recovery seriously, but a man with injuries as extensive as his required a recommended daily dose of good loving. Kind of how some people needed coffee.

“Drink,” he said, thrusting the frosty plastic bottle in her direction.

How could he make her understand he would be a dead man walking if anything happened to her or the baby? Last night Ava had cried in her sleep. She’d clawed at his chest, seeking his protection and comfort. Logan had remained silent, holding her in his arm. His heart ached with each body-shaking sob. He was pissed off that she hurt, and he couldn’t stop the pain. He liked control, but this situation had rendered him helpless at protecting his woman. He knew she buried her fear for their safety, trying to be strong for him.