Page 21 of Pure Bred

My driver nods and eases the SUV forward. Logan is still looking around, his brow furrowed. God, he’s so handsome.

The SUV pulls up beside him. I open the door and his eyes light up when he sees me. Relief washes over his face.

“Sierra,” he breathes, climbing in.

Before I can speak, his hands cup my face. His lips meet mine in a kiss that makes me want to cry with happiness. I melt into him, savoring his familiar scent of hay and sunshine and something uniquely Logan.

“Hi,” I say giddily when we break apart. I’m grinning like an idiot but I don’t care a bit.

“Hey, you,” he says, his blue eyes shining. “It’s so good to see you.”

My driver’s voice breaks our bubble. “Back to your place, Miss Adams?”

“Yes, please,” I call out, keeping my focus on Logan. I can’t stop smiling.

He’s here. Finally. He’s really here.

The LA traffic crawls on our drive back to my house, but I don’t mind. With Logan by my side, nothing else matters. Logan tells me about the latest happenings at the ranch, and at his insistence, I fill him in on the whirlwind of performances and interviews I’ve had since I left Montana. His hand rests on my knee, a comforting weight that grounds me.

As we pull up to my house, I watch Logan’s eyes widen. He lets out a low whistle, taking in the sleek modern architecture and manicured landscaping. Then he shakes his head, chuckling.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Of course you’ve got a place like this.”

I bite my lip, suddenly nervous as I lead him inside. The entryway feels cavernous, and I’m hyperaware of how different this is from his cozy ranch house back in Eagle Falls.

“So, um, this is it,” I say, gesturing awkwardly. “I know it’s a lot.”

Logan’s eyes roam over the high ceilings and designer furniture. For a moment, I’m terrified he’ll feel uncomfortable here. But then he turns to me with a warm smile.

“It’s beautiful, Sierra. I’m glad you’ve treated yourself to a place like this. You deserve it.”

Relief washes over me. “Thank you.”

He hefts his duffel bag. “So, where should I put my things?”

I lead Logan up the stairs, my heart fluttering. “This way,” I say, pushing open the door to my bedroom.

He steps inside, taking in the space. It’s as modern and sleek as the rest of the house, but there are plenty of personal touches, too. Logan’s eyes land on a small, framed photo on my nightstand.

“Is that...?” he asks, moving closer and picking it up.

I nod, warmth spreading through my chest. “Yeah, that’s us at the Harvest Festival when we were still in high school.”

Logan’s fingers trace the edge of the frame. “I love this photo.”

“I love it, too,” I say softly.

Carefully setting down the framed photo, Logan turns to me. “So, what’s the plan while I’m here? I bet you’ve got a whole itinerary.”

I laugh. “Well, if you want, we can hit some of the touristy spots. The Hollywood Sign, Venice Beach, maybe a studio tour. But we don’t have to do any of that if you’re not into it. We can just hang out here too.”

Logan’s eyes grow warmer as he steps closer to me. “I’m thinking I’d like to spend a lot of time right here in this room.”

My heartbeat quickens as he pulls me against him. “Yeah?”

His lips brush my ear. “Mmhmm. If that’s all right with you.”

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