Page 20 of Stepping Up

“Great. I really, really appreciate it. I know you must be busy.”

“Hey, what’s family for?” she joked, and it was a nice change of pace, laughing with her.

“We certainly need to stick together,” I joked back.

Once I’d given Carly the address and we hung up the phone, it finally sank in that she’d be in my apartment soon. I was grateful for her willingness to help me, of course, but a bigger, harder part of me was worried about losing any tenuous grip I still had on my self-control the second she and I were alone.

At least I knew she could handle it if I did.

13

CARLY

Logan McDonald’s apartment was all lush, decadent masculinity. Leather furniture, clean lines, and warm colors paired perfectly together. While it wasn’t at all ostentatious, the whole place gave an expensive air—the choices of a man with taste, someone who had earned his money and carefully considered how to spend it. He’d grown up with a fair bit of money, too, of course. But Dwight had taught his boys well, and there wasn’t a drip of entitlement in any of them. The apartment was no different.

It was a perfect backdrop for photos, too. Wide windows let in perfect natural light that gleamed against his dark hair, his pristine glass bookcase, his spotless kitchen countertops. I couldn’t help but let out an appreciative, “Nice place.”

“Thank you,” Logan said carefully. “I take pride in keeping my home comfortable and orderly. It’s better for productivity.”

“That’s what they tell me,” I said. “I’ll never know, though, because I have a five-year-old.”

Logan’s half-smile was almost sheepish, like he noticed himself coming off as a little pretentious. At least he was self-aware. “I’m sure that makes things more difficult. But she’s such a smart kid, and I’m sure she enriches your life in a lot of other ways.”

Soft, warm love flooded into my chest. No matter how many times strangers or friends complimented Ella, it never got old to hear how great my kid was. “She really does.”

We were quiet, then, as I started to ready my camera equipment for this impromptu photoshoot. I had a decent tripod and a good collection of lenses for my DSLR, but I knew my amateur setup wouldn’t compare to the kind of thing a magazine crew would have brought. I couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves dancing in my stomach. It wasn't every day that I was tasked with photographing my new stepbrother, especially for a feature in a local magazine highlighting his business prowess. But I couldn't turn down the opportunity to help him out. I always needed more photography gigs I could use to build my resumé.

Plus, if I were honest with myself, I was very curious to see the inside of Logan McDonald’s home. Somehow, it was exactly what I expected. That was almost comforting. Very little had been going according to plan in my life lately.

"Thanks again for doing this," Logan said then, his voice filled with genuine gratitude as he watched me assess the lighting in the room.

I offered him a small smile, trying to push aside the electric crackle of attraction that seemed to buzz between us whenever we were in the same room. It was half in anticipation of studying him through my camera lens, trying to find his best angles. All of them, my brain grumbled. The man doesn’t have a bad angle.

"Of course, Logan. I’m happy to help."

As I fiddled with the settings on my camera, I couldn't help but notice the way Logan shifted nervously from foot to foot. He was usually so steady, and he was in his own home, but he’d never looked less in his element before.

"Everything okay?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light, nonjudgmental. Somehow, I didn’t think Logan would take any suggestion of weakness very well.

He looked at me with those haunting golden-hazel eyes, his jaw tight. But under my gaze, unwavering as it was, he finally let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Yeah. Sorry, yes. Everything's fine. Just… well, I’m a bit nervous about having my photo taken. I’m not exactly a model."

I chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet apartment. "You? Nervous? I don't believe it."

His eyes narrowed. “Believe it or not, I do feel nerves creeping in from time to time. The trick is pushing through and doing it anyway.”

“That’s always what I tell my daughter,” I mused. “You’re right. Still, you must know what you look like.” I gestured toward him, flushing instantly at the acknowledgement of how fine this man was. Right now, he looked delectable in dark jeans, brown boots, and a crisp white shirt with buttons that just barely didn’t strain over his full chest.

“I wouldn’t call myself photogenic,” he insisted.

I shrugged, pretending to adjust a nonexistent setting on my camera. "You’ll do great. It’s just me."

His face relaxed into almost a smile at my words, and I felt a rush of warmth flood through me at the sight. There was something about his appreciation, his vulnerability, that made me want to reach out and comfort him.

"Thank you,” he murmured. “Again, I really appreciate your stepping in like this. I know you didn’t have to, especially with how… rocky our interactions have been thus far.”

I waved off his gratitude with a casual flick of my wrist. "No problem. Besides, it's not every day I get to photograph a local celebrity."

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