Page 60 of Frenemies

Bailey giggled and shied away.

Good lord. Five seconds with Logan Hudson, and she was already blushing.

I shook my head. “Pick your jaw up off the floor, Mayberry. This one’s taken.”

“She’s right,” Logan shoved the last of his sandwich in his mouth. “But my friend Mason would have buckets of fun with you.”

No way was Mason Kessler going anywhere near my girls.

Before Logan could call Mason over here, which I could see him doing, I said, “Remember when Andrea Thompson said you couldn’t break into her house?”

“That shit was easy,” he waved his hand and leaned against the wall. “Bitch didn’t even lock her window.”

Not sure if I would consider that easy. He was talking about the window on the top floor of her three-story house with absolutely no trees surrounding it.

“Well,” I sighed. “I happen to be in need of your criminal skills.”

The intrigue sparkling in Logan’s eyes picked up when Bailey shrieked, “What? I didn’t agree to break into anything.”

“Relax.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s just my father’s office.”

That didn’t set her at ease any. Logan, on the other hand . . . .

He chuckled. “Wanna see what Daddy’s hiding do ya?”

“It’s not that big of a deal. . . .”

“Ah, whatever,” he cut me off with a wave. “I’m in.”

* * *

Five minutesin a car with Logan and Bailey reminded me why I never wanted to work in a daycare. They were worse than toddlers.

Logan spent the entire drive making her as uncomfortable as possible, pointing out things like how easy it would be for a guy to slide his hand up her oversized shorts and how her pigtails would make great handle bars.

He even reached up and grabbed on at one point, which earned him a punch that he laughed at—I think that was the point when Bailey officially shifted from angry to wary. A smart shift, in my opinion. Logan Hudson wasn’t normal.

He lived through more pain when he was a kid than most people would endure in their entire lives and had the scars to prove it under those tattoos. Some of which I was present for when he received.

No one could live through what his father did and come out sane, which was precisely why I chose him for this.

I leaned forward and stared through the windshield at my blue front door. It didn’t look like Daddy was home. Then again, his car could be in the garage at the side of the house, but at this time, he should still be at work.

“So, what’s the plan?” Logan reached up and folded his hands behind his head. “How are we gonna get around your staff?”

My mouth pursed as I cocked a brow at the brick building I called home. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“I got some roofies. We could knock a few out and tie up the others.”

I didn’t want to know why Logan had roofies, or what he planned on doing with them.

“Bless your heart.” Bailey’s brow furrowed back at him. “You’re two cornfields short of a hay bale, ain’t ya?”

Logan wasn’t the only one that stared at her, confused. My mouth opened, but I had no idea what to say while Logan tipped his head.

“I’m not really caught up on my Midwestern slang, but I’m gonna guess that you want someone to take you rough in a cornfield.”

Bailey groaned and dropped her head back on the seat.

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