Page 93 of The Guy Who Fake Dated Me

I told myself I was just trying to help but knew better.

My “you must be perfect or else” mode had kicked in. I didn’t think it would be this bad, and I had hope that after the high of this wonderful man telling me he was falling in love with me wore off that the urges would wane.

I felt a little bad that I hadn’t said the L-word back to him, but until I got myself under control, I was afraid to utter the four letters that had become my own curse.

For the most part, Logan had been distracted enough to keep it at bay. Until we’d come up to the room and had fallen asleep watching a baking show.

Well, he’d fallen asleep. My eyes kept roaming to the picture on the wall that was just crooked enough to notice and to the place on the television where there was a pixel that was dead, creating a single black spot on the screen.

Instead of getting up to fix the picture, I focused on the feel of Logan’s arms around me and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. I closed my eyes and matched my inhales and exhales to his. His heartbeat thrummed in my ear, and after a few minutes of imagining what it would be like to wake up like this every day, I dozed off.

***

When I woke, I found myself lying on the couch alone, head on a pillow, and covered in a fuzzy blanket. The bathroom door was closed, and I could hear the shower running.

I blinked, then took a deep breath and detected the scent of coffee in the air.

Mycoffee.

Logan was leaving for the airport at seven. What time was it now? The dim light filtering in through the blinds told me it was still early.

I yawned and stretched, the blanket falling away to reveal the sweats and T-shirt I’d donned before we’d cuddled up to watch television. The ones I’d ironed before putting on.

My fingers itched to fold the blanket into a perfect square, but I resisted and looked for the coffee instead. I found it sitting next to my phone on a nearby table. “My hero,” I muttered as I grabbed both items and sat back down.

One swipe told me it was five-thirty in the morning.

Why was Logan up this early? He didn’t need more than forty minutes to get ready. I’d noticed his bag mostly packed the night before.

Maybe he wanted to spend some time with me.

That thought warmed me, as did the coffee when I took a sip.

The shower went off, and my heartbeat sped up remembering him in just a towel. I squeezed the coffee cup and licked my lips. Before my mind could wander deeper than PG-13 territory, a knock sounded at our front door.

I glared at it and took my third sip of coffee.

The bathroom door cracked an inch, and steam poured out. “Vic? You awake?”

“Yeah.”

Do not think about the towel.

“Can you grab that? It’s breakfast.”

He’d gotten up early enough to have coffee delivered before room service? This guy had skills. “On it,” I said.

The bathroom door shut just before I opened the front entrance to find a cart of food and no one in sight. I half-expected Courtney to pop out of their suite, but it was just me in the hallway. One wheel of the cart squeaked as I dragged it to our table.

“Be out in a minute,” Logan said.

I eyed the covered plates. I knew he’d want to set everything out, but I told myself that this would save time. It had nothing to do with the fact that one of the covers wasn’t on all the way and the platters weren’t sitting symmetrically on the surface.

Just as I finished arranging the food on the table, Logan emerged from the bathroom. He wore a pair of dark slacks and a polo shirt. The ensemble looked upscale, but I suspected it was probably comfortable to travel in. When he saw the spread, he gave me a smile. “I could have done that.”

I moved to him, wrapped my arms around him, and did my best to sink into him. “I was being efficient.”

“Oh?” He chuckled as he used a finger to tilt my chin up before kissing me.

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