Page 110 of Seven of Hearts

“I knew Kylie was over here, preparing for an event today,” Logan said as he turned to me. “So I texted her and asked if she could run down to the spa and see if they could fit you in for a massage.”

My heart shattered. He was so good to me. Always thinking ahead. Always putting me first. And I was a raging, hormonal, psychopath.

“Really?”

The receptionist stood. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll walk you back to your treatment room and introduce you to your massage therapist. The prenatal massages are very gentle, and you’ll feel great afterward.”

“Go on,” Logan said, punctuating it with a forehead kiss. “Relax.”

And relax I did.

The stress started to melt away as soon as I was led into an opulent locker room and handed a robe and slippers that felt like they were made of clouds. I felt bad that Logan had gone out of his way to do something nice for me after I had turned into a neurotic monster, but that guilt disappeared the minute the massage therapist had me lie on my side for an hour-long prenatal massage.

It. Was. Heaven.

Logan gave a mean shoulder rub, but that woman didwork.

Getting off the massage table was a superhuman feat. The therapist had left me with the invitation to lie there and breathe, then dress. But I was fairly certain that she didn’t mean I could lie there and nap for the rest of the day.

I waddled back to the spa lobby in a daze. It felt like I had woken up from a deep sleep, even though I had been awake the entire time.

“How was your massage?” the receptionist asked in a near-whisper.

All I could do was nod. “So good.”

She laughed lightly. “Good. Your session was charged to your room. Tip and all. So you’re good to go.”

What? I wasn’t staying here. “My room?”

The receptionist slid a sleek Taylor Creek Inn room key across the desk. “Yes, your partner checked in and left a key for you while you were getting your massage. Room 328.”

Well, that sounded familiar.

I took the room key with a polite, “Thank you,” and slipped out of the spa.

Room 328 was a quick elevator trip and walk down the hallway. Déjà vu hung in a thick fog as I slid the room key into the slot and waited for the click and green light.

Logan was waiting for me on the bed. “Hey, honeybee,” he said with an easy smile.

I laughed as I let the door shut behind me. “Fancy meeting you here.”

The room was just as it had been that night. Or at least what I remembered of it. The view from the balcony was incredible, but my view had been of the bed and the ceiling.

Two duffel bags sat on the room’s desk.

“So...are we breaking and entering for old time’s sake, or did you actually get a room?”

“There are certain perks of being the owner’s brother-in-law, and the brother of the general manager.” Logan lifted his room key. “It means I don’t feel bad when I request a room by number. But yes, it’s ours for the night. I figured a change of scenery might be good.”

A pang of guilt settled in my gut. “We live ten minutes down the road. Isn’t getting a room a little frivolous?”

“Nothing’s too frivolous when I get to give it to you.”

“Logan . . . You hate spending money.”

He swung his legs off the edge of the bed and stood. “Then let’s call it a babymoon. That’s a thing, right? A night—just the two of us—before I have to go wrap things up back in Chicago.”

And there it was.

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