Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
So I tell him the truth. “I’m willing to do it for you.” I’ll fight for him, dammit. For this. For us.
For a second, just for the briefest flicker of a moment, I think I see something in him crack—a flash of the Logan I know and cherish.
But the next second the Master is back, cold and calculating. He pulls back and stands up straight, turning away from me.
“Then let us begin.”
Nine
7 Years Ago
Daphne
“How did I know I’d find you here?”
I look up at hearing my favorite voice, butterflies alight in my stomach.
Logan.
He pays attention to me out of pity, I know that’s why. But still my heart soars every time he stops by to say hi, and the few times he’s taken me out to eat—heaven.
“Hi Logan.” I try for my voice not to sound shy but don’t quite succeed. Gods, don’t look like a timid little girl! I thought there was maybe a moment at the Ubeli’s ball when he saw me as more…but then he wouldn’t dance with me and I barely saw him the rest of the night.
“How long have you been hunched over your books here?” he asks. “I saw you when you came in this morning and that was hours ago. Have you been at it all night?”
I blink blearily and glance over at the clock on the wall, then down at my laptop. “I was trying to finish this chapter on my dissertation and I guess time got away from me.”
His brow furrows. “Have you had any sustenance other than coffee?” He gestures at the several empty coffee cups in the corners of my little study carrel.
A thrill goes through me in spite of my tiredness. Does this mean he’s about to take me on one of our little lunch dates? Then I wince internally. No, they aren’t dates. I’m a pity project and he’s a good man afraid of a girl on his watch dying of starvation.
He lifts an eyebrow. “Woman cannot live on coffee alone. Come on.”
Woman. He called me woman.
He was making a joke. Don’t be an idiot.
But I’m nodding and getting to my feet. “Okay, if you say so.” Inside, I’m doing cartwheels. Logan date! Logan date!
I’m too tired to fight the internal battle and allow myself to just be happy as he leads me to our favorite sandwich shop.
But to my surprise, he gets our order to go.
My heart sinks. No Logan date after all. He’s just seeing that I’m fed and taking me right back where he found me. Dear heavens, this is embarrassing.
I stand up straighter and try to be a grown-up about the whole thing. “Look, Logan. I appreciate it but really, I can take care of myself. Let me just pay for this, then I’ll get out of your hair.”
I try to reach for my wallet in my purse but he puts his big, warm hands on mine, stopping me.
Logan Wulfe is touching me. I melt under the contact, especially when I look up and those intense blue eyes are locked on mine.
“Daphne, it’s okay to let someone look out for you once in a while. And after all your father has done for me, it’s the least I can do to provide his hungry daughter a meal once in a while. Please?”
It’s not so much that I agree as I’m stunned into silence by the earnestness of his blue eyes and his touch, so he gets his way.
My hand feels terribly cold as soon as he lets me go to reach for his own wallet to pay the clerk.
At least I know why he looks out for me now—it’s not pity, or maybe it is, but it’s also obligation and gratefulness to my father. It still has nothing to do with me.
But, sad sap that I am, I’ll still cling to every moment I have with Logan.
I expect him to take us right back to the lab but instead, our lunch in one hand, he takes my hand with his other and leads us down the sidewalk away from the lab.
Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, Logan Wulfe is holding my hand!!!
What does it mean? Does he—? Oh crap, is my hand sweaty? If I would’ve known he was going to pull this move, I would’ve wiped it on my jeans first.
He lets my hand go almost as quickly as he grabbed it, though, leaving my head a tornado of swirling thoughts.
But he’s grinning at me, that strong jaw and brow so masculine, it kills me. While Adam Archer is what most people would describe as classically handsome, Logan is what does it for me. Rough around the edges, but a sweetness that belies his difficult youth.
And he’s real in a way that Adam isn’t. Adam is like the fake sweetener that’s so overly sweet, it makes everyone like the drink, but only because they can barely taste the original substance anymore.