Page 20 of Living at 40

“I hope that makes up for things, just a little bit.” Lifting her hand, she holds her forefinger and thumb close to one another, leaving only an inch between them.

“Maybe a little bit,” she teases, and my eyes narrow. More than a little bit is happening in my shorts, and I have no doubt she can feel it through her summer skirt.

Softly chuckling, I lean forward for another kiss, quickly stealing it from her before she objects.

“The sun’s almost set,” she says, glancing over her shoulder, and I’m worried the kiss didn’t have the same effect on her as it did me. That kiss was more than I deserve for treating her as I did, and something I’ll long for the rest of my life if I don’t earn another one from her.

Spinning to give me her back, she stares out at the lake, which looks as if it’s swallowing the sun like I tried to swallow Autumn’s tongue. She remains before me, so I risk running my hand up her back again, slipping it under her hair and cupping her nape. When she tips her head back, I slide my arm around her waist and hold her against my chest as we watch the sun disappear. Both quiet with our own thoughts, I’ll spend the rest of my life making things up to her if she kisses me like that again.

9

[Autumn]

As we stand in silence, watching the glorious sunset, I smile to myself.

Wow. Logan Anders knows how to kiss a woman, and I accept that women were attracted to him for more than his humor. He had jokes to bolster his confidence, but once a girl got past the enticingly nice guy, a man who could seriously kiss existed.

“Please don’t put Mason on your list,” he mutters just below my ear as the sun disappears, but the afterglow still paints the sky in bright orange and vibrant pink. His words erase any aftereffects lingering from our kiss.

“Why?” I say, twisting my body so I can face him. “Why does this matter?”

Logan steps back and scratches at the scruff under his jaw. “I just don’t think you should fuck him.”

“Are you saying I should fuck you?” Logan flinches as I wave a hand up and down his body. The question is harshly stated because I’m instantly annoyed. “What is with this competition between Mason and you?”

“What competition?” he asks, his eyes narrowing at me.

“Mason’s putting on the full-court press as well.”

“What? Is he pressuring you?” Concern drips from Logan’s voice as he steps back into my space, cupping my shoulders and stroking down to my upper arms. “Don’t give in to him.”

“Because I should give in to you?” My voice rises. I’m so confused. What in the— “Do you two have a bet or something placed on me? Is this some game to see who can get in my pants first?”

“What? No. Of course not.”

“Because I’m not sleeping with either of you.”

“Why not?” Logan asks, and I should be aghast, but there’s something underlying his tone.

“Because this is important to me.” This baby-making business isn’t a joke to me.

It’s when his body stills, and his hands release my arms that I linger on his question. Why not?

Why won’t I have sex with either of them, or why won’t I have sex with him?

“And I’m not important to you.” The strength of his voice drops to that of a wounded kid, and his head lowers, eyes aimed toward my toes.

“Logan, why would you even want to sleep with me?” As his head lifts and his mouth falls open, I hold up a hand to stop his answer. “I want a baby. I want someone to get me pregnant. You already have a child. And I don’t need a husband.”

He takes a long second to stare at me before he answers. “You want no strings attached? You can use all this sexiness for baby-making.” He draws a hand down his own body, emphasizing his value. I don’t miss the part I need most straining behind his zipper. I’d felt him against my lower belly as we kissed. Logan definitely has the package I need, but can he deliver? And why would he want to? His teasing tone reminds me he can’t take anything seriously.

“This isn’t a joke to me.” My voice lowers. I don’t want no strings attached to be the theme behind having a baby, but as I have no dedicated significant other, I’m settling for the next best thing. Settling reminds me of what Anna’s often said. I settle on being content when I should strive for more. Pushing away the thought, I glance back at the lingering line of rays just above the darkening water.

Logan’s warm hands return to my upper arms, squeezing lightly. “Hey. It’s not a joke to me either.” Our eyes meet, but I can’t read his thoughts.

“Logan, you love Lorna, right?”

“Of course.” Surprised by the question, he blinks.