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She grins. “So, you’ll join me?”

I nod. “Okay.”

“Good.” She rests her head on my chest and I smile, skating my fingers over her bare spine.

Someday, I’m going to marry her—not just because I want this forever. But if I ever had to go without, I’d never recover. And just like that, I understand why Logan did what he did.

“It smells like sex in here,” she comments.

I bark out a laugh. “It really fucking does.”

Her head pops off my chest. “Should we go again?”

“Dirty girl . . .” I capture her lips with mine. “Yes.”

“We’re here!” Anna announces, balancing the homemade pie in her arms as we step into Rhys and Micky’s loft. Inside, midday light enters the large windows and brightens the industrial space, and we’re met with the delicious aroma of warm cinnamon, sage, and thyme. It’s mouthwatering.

“Hey!” It’s a cheerful reply in unison.

They were very insistent on me not bringing anything, but I felt weird showing up empty-handed so I brought flowers instead. Anna squeezes my fingers.

“That bouquet is gorgeous!” Micky says cheerfully, meeting me halfway and offering a hug. “Thank you, I’ll put these in water.”

Rhys comes over next to greet his sister and claps me on the back. “Help yourself.” he gestures to the small bar cart holding a few cocktails and appetizers.

“Those are nonalcoholic,” Micky adds, “but we’ve got a full bar if you prefer something else.”

I nod. “This is great, thanks.”

Anna plucks one off the tray and lifts it to her lips, gazing up at me through hooded lids. It reminds me of the way she looks when she’s on her knees, and I’m fairly certain that was her goal. She winks and spins back around, stepping into the open kitchen. “What should I get started on?” Anna asks.

“Would you mind snapping the asparagus?”

“Yup,” she says, setting her drink down.

Micky stands in front of a sizzling pan, sauteing onion and garlic. I move to help but they both wave me off.

“Too many cooks,” Rhys calls over his shoulder from where he sits on the sofa. “I’ve been kicked out too. Welcome to the reject seating.”

I join him on the L-shaped sofa, him on one side and me on the other. He turns toward me when I take a seat, his arm slung over the back. Rhys studies me for a moment in a way that isn’t quite hostile, but it’s not not hostile either . . . Aggressively inquisitive. He’s her older brother, I respect that.

We make our usual small talk as if I was tattooing him, how the team is playing and what’s new with Micky’s cocktail lounge. Eventually, he nods toward the kitchen and lowers his voice. “She doing okay?” It’s not suspicion but genuine interest.

“Yeah,” I reply, leaning back, the glass resting loose in my hand. “She’s great, actually.”

He nods. “She can be private about certain things.”

I chuckle. “I’ve noticed.”

It earns me a knowing quirk of his lips.

“But she’s opening up. I suspect more than she has before.”

Rhys sharpens his features. “Yeah?”

“It’s taken me some time,” I explain, looking over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of her. From the kitchen, Anna laughs; it’s bright and unguarded, and I glance over without thinking. She’s leaning against the counter, stealing food off a plate while Micky pretends to scold her through giggles. Anna catches me looking and pauses, smiling—a smile that’s just mine. I give her a wink and her bright expression widens.

“My sister likes to keep everything locked down tight. She makes you earn it.”