The moment I grabbed another slice, Logan’s hand shot out and snagged my wrist in midair, stepping between my legs. “If you want more, then I get a fucking kiss first.”
I looked at the bacon adoringly and sighed. “You drive a hard bargain.” I squealed when Logan yanked me into his body then leaned in and snagged the bacon right out of my hand with his mouth. “That’s cruel and unusual punishment,” I cried out.
Logan grinned then swallowed, bending his head toward my mouth. “Kiss me,” he whispered against my lips.
I licked his bottom lip and he opened for me, capturing my face in his hands. He leaned his head one way and I leaned mine the other then we drank each other in. We didn’t stop until the sound of thundering feet and muffled grunts caught our attention. We broke apart in time to see Jake shove Josh to the ground, then leapfrog over him, his entire focus zeroed in on my plate of crispy goodness. The bacon gene ran deep in our family.
Logan snagged two slices from the plate before Jake reached it, handing them to me. “My hero!”
“Don’t eat it all, dickweed,” Josh shouted, bounding from the floor.
Logan turned and put a hand to Josh’s shoulder as he tried to steal the plate from Jake, who had turned his back to guard his prize while he scarfed down multiple slices at a time. “I’ve got three pounds to cook. You’ll get your own plate.”
“Three?” Josh breathed out like he’d been offered a million dollars.
“Yeah, it was in my ice chest. I needed to cook it, so it didn’t go to waste.”
Josh turned his eyes to mine. “Mother lode, Skye.” Only a fifteen-year-old would think a man who had three pounds of bacon made him legendary. “You know that, right?”
An image of Logan and me in his truck the night before flashed erotically through my mind. The way he’d made love to me with gentle hands until I shook with need. That was definitely legendary.
“He’s okay,” I giggled.
Logan cocked an arrogant brow at me. A blush rose up my neck and settled in my cheeks, so I cleared my throat and jumped off the counter. “Pancakes, anyone?”
Jake mumbled, “Yes,” as he folded into the couch and reached for the remote.
The sound of the gridiron filled the cabin. Sunday was about kicking back and watching pro football. Jake studied his favorite pro quarterbacks like it was his job, which essentially, God willing, would be for years to come.
I pulled a large mixing bowl down from the cabinet then grabbed the pancake mix from the pantry, while Josh waited patiently for Logan to cook the second pound of bacon. It wasn’t lost on me how easily Logan fit in to our family unit. There was no awkward silence, no hemming and hawing around him by either of my brothers now. And Logan acted as if he felt right at home in our cabin. Like he’d been here for years rather than a few hours. He wasn’t waiting patiently at the table for me to cook a meal, rather he found a frying pan and got to work like he wasn’t a guest. I liked it. All of it. Knowing we meshed so well. The getting to know each other stage was on a fast track. And what I knew about him I liked. So much I was afraid I’d wake up and find out I’d just dreamed him up.
“Skye, your boy, Jimmy G, is playing right now.”
I whipped my head around and bugged my eyes at Jake. It took him a moment to catch my drift, then his eyes shot to Logan with a smug smile.
“You a Niners fan?” Logan asked. I wished I’d left my hair down to cover my blush. I wasn’t a Niners fan, I was a Jimmy Garoppolo fan. That boy was smokin’ hot.
I nodded and kept stirring the pancake batter like my life depended on it.
“She has the hots for Garoppolo,” Jake threw out with a chuckle. “No self-respecting Montanan roots for anyone but the Seahawks.”
I stiffened and tried to lie my way out of the pickle I was in. “Not everyone likes the Seahawks.”
Logan set down the tongs he was using to flip the bacon and leaned his hip against the counter, crossing his arms at his chest. I glanced up and caught his lips twitching.
“What?”
“Name one player on the Niners besides Garoppolo?”