Page 64 of Consuming Logan

He remained silent for a moment, watching Ava. He probably sounded crazy, in awe of a kid with a permanent disability.

“I’m so proud of you, Logan.”

Her words surprised him. “For what?”

“How you volunteer your time to help those boys. The effort you put into helping Thady meet new friends.” She giggled. “For smiling through all of Granny Lou’s little projects.”

“Yes,” he said. “Just maybe some afternoon delight,” he snuggled her closer, “is in order to thank me for rolling thirty balls of biscuit dough for Sunday dinner.”

He kissed her neck and she giggled. “Or, how about all the pennies I stacked and rolled before our drive to the bank.”

Ava giggled, turning in his arms, and then straddled his hips. With his sling no longer needed, it felt good to grip Ava’s hips in both hands.

“Hey,” someone called, “am I interrupting anything?”

“Ugh,” Logan grunted. “You have the worst timing, Graham.”

Logan looked up to find his best friend, Graham Hamilton the Third, in his living room. Born into power and prestige, the man was as down-to-earth as they came. Well over six feet tall, dark hair, and even darker eyes, women flocked to him, but his heart belonged to Shayla. “With you two, of course I’m interrupting some red room kinky shit.”

Ava giggled, and then attempted to scramble off of him.

Close to her ear he whispered. “He’s joking.”

Hands on either side of her back, Logan assisted Ava to an upright position. Graham was one of the best OB/GYN physicians in the country. He spent entirely too much time on the guest lecturer circuit. They had left Shell Cove for a medical school at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.

“Ava, you look due at any day now.” Dark brown eyes danced with mirth, and a smile formed on Graham’s face. “I grabbed the mail,” he said handing Logan a stack of white envelopes.

Easing out of Logan’s hold, Ava stood. “You two catch up.”

She gave Graham a knowing smile and she moved away. “How’s my sister?”

The skin around Graham’s eyes crinkled. Logan wasn’t sure if it was humor or heart-palpitations that marred his friend’s face. Probably both. Shayla, three years Ava’s senior, had an assertive streak ten miles long. She helped Graham with his son from a previous relationship.

“Brilliant,” he beamed, “and stubborn.”

Ava lifted her hand, giving Graham a reassuring rub to the shoulder. “That’s my big sis,” she winked conspiratorially.

Graham chuffed. “Logan, you have no idea how vicious the Walters women can be when they want something. Shayla has us looking at mini-vans.”

“Oh,” Ava piqued up. “Which one.”

Logan stiffened. “Don’t answer that, Graham.”

Ava hit us with a steely gaze. “Talk with your friend. I need to starch my uniforms, Carvana a minivan, and a few other things before Monday. The wedding rehearsal is this Wednesday, Graham. It should be no more than a few hours.”

Frowning, Logan called to her, “I won’t be long.”

What the hell was she up to now? So much had happened. Could it be the babies, her project, Ash? Logan inhaled. The calming breath did nothing to diffuse his thoughts.

“Hell, Logan. I came to check on you and I’m already being kicked out?”

Graham crossed to the kitchen counter, pulled out one of the bar stools, and took a seat. “How are you?”

Logan lifted his bandaged hand, which throbbed a little. Grinding his teeth, he muttered to himself. “Where did I put that damn sling?”

“What did they say about your hand?” Graham’s voice softened, and the deference to his weakened state grated…big time.

“Stop with the pansy voice,” Logan ground out. “Complex dislocation of the second and third digits plus, a partial split to the thumb tendon.”