Page 59 of Cop Blocked

“No, ma’am.” She bows her head and sulks.

“Good girl, go on inside and take your shoes off at the door.”

“Hey.” Logan, dressed in gym shorts and a T-shirt, with his hair still wet and the scent of his soap lingering on his skin, greets me with a kiss as Piper disappears.

“Hey. I’m sorry. She’s in rare form today.”

He shrugs and kisses me again. “I’ve had plenty of coffee. I think I can keep up.”

Sucker. He has no idea.

“Riiiiiiight. Well, I bought groceries. I didn’t know what you had. I’ll get started so that we can eat. I’m kinda starving.”

Walking inside the door, I immediately spot Piper. She’s curled up on Logan’s sofa with Lucky in her lap, chatting away with her favorite four-legged critters. One unfortunate accident, where she terrified Smokey with a remote control car, has the gray kitten running anytime she walks in the room. Lucky doesn’t seem to mind the attention.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take Lucky home?” Logan says as soon as we’re in the kitchen.

“Nope. I do not want another pet. Besides, I told you before; she doesn’t even pay attention to Izzy that much.”

“I think they have bonded,” Logan teases.

“I’m not taking a kitten. No way. I don’t mind visiting and taking care of them when you need help, but they can stay right here.”

“Logan?” Piper walks up to us. “Lucky made a funny sound; then she throwed up this.” She opens her hand to show us a wet furball.

“Oh God! Piper!” I squeal and scrunch up my nose.

“How about we throw that away?” Logan points her to the trash can while trying not to gag.

“Go wash your hands, right now, Piper!”

Logan is still gagging as she runs down the hallway.

“I’ll be right back. I need to make sure she uses soap.” Chasing after her, I corner her in the bathroom and make sure her hands are clean before I carry her back to the dining room table and pull a coloring book and crayons from her bag. “Next time, let’s not pick up things that the cat throws up.”

“Yes, ma’am. No pick up throw up. Got it!”

“Good. Why don’t you color while I make dinner?” I tell her.

“Can I help with anything?” he offers.

I shake my head no, and he takes a seat across from Piper, who is busy dumping out her crayons.

“Logan.”

“Piper.” He arches a brow.

“Do you have cake for dessert?”

He looks to me to save him. I know he’s got cake. And probably cookies somewhere. The man has a sweet tooth worse than my three-year-old.

“Uhm. Well, you know what? I don’t think I do. Maybe next time.”

When he looks at me again, I shoot him a wink and mouth, “Good call.”

“Oh, man.” Piper sighs dramatically. “Mommy, I knew we shoulda got cake!”

“Another time, Piper. Maybe for Logan’s birthday.”

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