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  • Home > Samantha Young > On Dublin Street Series > Moonlight on Nightingale Way (Page 35)     
    Moonlight on Nightingale Way(On Dublin Street #6)(35) by Samantha Young
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    CHAPTER 11

    “Why are you looking at me like that?” Maia said, throwing Logan and me a wary smile.

    She’d come home from school to find us standing in my sitting room, waiting for her. It was a week since I’d gone shopping with Logan, and it was his day off again. We’d spent it putting the finishing touches on Maia’s room.

    Logan’s face was perfectly blank.

    I refrained from grimacing at him and smiled brightly at his daughter instead. “Logan has a surprise for you.”

    I wouldn’t hold his sudden lack of enthusiasm against him, because I knew underneath that stoic reserve, he was a pile of nerves. He wanted Maia’s room to be perfect for her.

    Maia’s eyebrows rose at the announcement. “Okay.”

    “This way,” Logan piped up, marching toward her. He put his hands on her shoulders, gently turned her around, and put his hands over her eyes. He started guiding her out of my flat. She giggled, and I saw his shoulders relax a little.

    I hurried past them to get my door and laughed at them as Logan attempted to guide her out. She tripped on the doorjamb, and Logan’s arms went around her to stop her from falling. She craned her neck to look back up at him, laughing, and he grinned down at her.

    “Maybe I’ll just cover your eyes once we’re in our flat.”

    She didn’t miss the emphasis he put on the word “our,” and she turned back to me with bright eyes.

    “Come on, then.” I hurried ahead and opened Logan’s door.

    Once we were all inside, Logan insisted on covering her eyes again, and it took them twice as long to get through the flat to Maia’s room. He guided her in and said, “I hope you like it, sweetheart,” and then removed his hands from her eyes.

    Maia blinked a number of times, her eyes growing rounder and rounder as she gazed at her new bedroom.

    Logan had painted the whole room a soft, soothing green. The white Shaker bed was centered to the room, and we’d found matching bedside cabinets, bureau, and wardrobe. In the corner of the room was a small, extremely cute green velvet reading chair I’d fallen in love with and promised Logan Maia would love too. I’d dressed her bed in a white cotton duvet set that was trimmed in forest green and champagne. Draped across the bottom of the bed was a forest green velvet throw, and I’d arranged five scatter cushions in all shapes and sizes, in greens and champagne, on top of her pillows.

    Pretty gold lamps with silk champagne shades set off her bedside cabinets, and I’d bought her some perfume and makeup and arranged it on her bureau. In her many conversations about Leigh and Layla, I’d discovered who her favorite bands were. We’d found posters for a few of them, framed them, and put them on the walls. Above her bed was a piece of canvas abstract art that was painted in the colors we’d decorated her room in.

    We waited with bated breath for her reaction.

    The wonder on her face suddenly dissolved into tears.

    Logan shot me a panicked look.

    I smiled at him in reassurance and before I could say anything Maia slowly walked over to him, her mouth trembling, her chest heaving as she tried to control the tears, and she threw her arms around him. Right then she seemed so much a little girl, and tears pricked my eyes.

    Logan relaxed into the hug, holding her securely in his strong arms. He kissed the top of her head and said softly, “I take it that means you like it?”

    She nodded against his chest. “I love it. It’s beautiful.” Her mumbled praise rose up to reach our ears. There were a few more sniffles and choked emotions before she pulled away from her dad and swiped at her cheeks. “Thank you.”

    My heart squeezed in my chest when I realized Logan’s eyes were bright with emotion. He cupped her face and whispered, “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

    I couldn’t stop the tears and, frankly, I wasn’t ashamed of them. I was so moved to be a part of this moment.

    Maia smiled shakily at me. “I better go pack.”

    “Yeah.”

    She rushed toward me and hugged me tight before hurrying out of the flat.

    And just like that I found myself wrapped in Logan’s arms. I made a startled noise before relaxing into him. Sliding my own arms around him, I tried not to think about how warm and strong he felt against me, the muscles in his back hard beneath my fingertips. He smelled bloody wonderful too.

    Damn it.

    The hug didn’t last nearly long enough. He pulled back but not to step away. Instead he cupped my face in his hands like he had done Maia, and his thumbs swiped at the tear tracks on my cheeks. I felt a little lost looking up into his beautiful eyes. “There’s no way for me to thank you properly,” he said, his voice gruff.

    “You don’t have to thank me,” I whispered, struggling to find the strength to speak up over the reaction my body was having to his nearness.

    I was tingling.

    All over.

    In places Logan really shouldn’t be making me tingle.

    Those tingles turned to full-on shivers as he lowered his hands, his thumbs whispering a trail down my neck and along my collarbone. He let go, only to settle his hands on my waist.

    My lips parted in surprise, drawing his gaze.

    I couldn’t breathe.

    A vibrating noise shattered the intensity of the moment, and I frowned in confusion.

    Logan stepped back, no longer meeting my eyes. “My phone,” he muttered, digging into his jeans pocket for it.

    More than a little discombobulated by what had or had not just happened, I started backing out of the room. “I’ll just, uh… go see how Maia is getting on.”

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