I smirk, pushing my chair back with a scrape. “Hmm… physical therapy?”
She gasps, half-laughing, half-scandalized. “You’re terrible.”
“You love it.”
Before she can protest, I slide my hands under her thighs and sweep her up into my arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She squeaks, her arms looping around my neck instinctively, face going flushed.
“Logan!” she hisses near my ear. “I’m not wearing—”
The front door bursts open.
“Who made pancakes?” Trey’s voice echoes down the hall.
“Are those the good kind? With chocolate chips?” Chace’s head pops around the corner.
“You didn’t even knock,” I call, groaning as I spin us toward the living room.
Sam shrugs as he strolls in like he owns the place. “You never lock the door, man. What if you were being robbed?”
“Pretty sure that’s what this is.” I nod toward Trey already stealing a pancake straight off my plate.
“Hey, Mac,” Chace says with a wave, grabbing a mug from the sideboard like he lives here. “You look… flushed.”
Mac presses her face into my neck with a mortified groan.
Trey chuckles, halfway through a mouthful. “Morning, sleeping beauty. Nice hair.”
None of them are paying the slightest bit of attention to the fact she’s barely wearing just an old T-shirt and absolutely nothing underneath. But I know. And based on the rising heat in her cheeks, so does she.
I grin down at her, then grab the old throw from the back of the sofa and wrap it around her like a cocoon, tucking the edges in with way more care than necessary.
“There,” I murmur against her ear. “Modesty intact.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Absolutely.”
Mac peeks out from the blanket, glaring at the guys.
Trey's already going on about needing bacon, Chace is checking the fridge, and Sam’s in a full-blown protein shake debate with himself.
She looks at me, wide-eyed. “Do they always just… show up?”
“Welcome back to the family,” I say, kissing her temple. “Privacy sold separately.”
Chapter 11
Kayla
The house is chaotic as the boys settle in.
Trey found a bag of kettle chips that may or may not have expired. He’s relentless in his pursuit of snacks—rummaging through drawers, crunching loudly, muttering between mouthfuls about them tasting stale or off…then eating more anyway. Chace has the fridge open, staring into the kind of bleak emptiness that make you question your life choices. Sam’s unearthed the juicer, but has nothing to put in it, going cupboard to cupboard, nudging things around with a growing scowl.
I’m wrapped in the old throw blanket Logan found on the couch—his arms circling me from behind like he’s grounding usboth. It smells like home and him and something else entirely—like the ghost of summer and the promise of something more. His chin rests lightly on my head, a quiet weight that calms the chaos.
"This is all you’ve got?" Trey moans, shaking the snack bag at Logan. “I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since… like, forever.”
"I actually have something you can have brother, one second.” Logan moves me a little as he searches his pocket and pulls out his middle finger. Help yourself to disappointment," Logan mutters, his voice close to my ear, soft and amused. I feel the curve of his smirk against my skin. There is some snickering, especially as the look of hopeful expectation dwindles on Trey’s face.