When I woke the next morning, I was alone. Like, really alone. There was no moment of disorientation. No fog. Just an empty bed and the lingering scent of Logan on my skin.

I didn’t have much—or any—dating experience, but I was pretty sure that riding someone’s face into five mind blowing orgasms, then rolling over and passing out without returning the favor was a breach of etiquette.

Groaning, I sat up, grinding the heel of my palm into my eye.

This was bad. So bad.

Out of habit, I reached for my phone to call Taryn. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Because I knew that any sentence that began with “I almost slept with Logan Cage” would end with her at my door. And probably Chase too.

And for what?

Logan had done nothing wrong. I’d told him I didn’t do one-night stands, and he’d assured me that he was down for a repeat. But he never offered to spoon me or stick around for breakfast. I’d agreed to the terms, so there was no use unleashing the wrath of my best friend. On either of us. Because she’d be just as pissed at me.

Sweeping the covers aside, I threw my legs over the edge of the bed and a scrap of lace fell to the floor. My panties. They were ripped in half. Beyond repair.

I tossed them in the trash with a shake of my head. “Better you than me.”

After a shower that only ended when the water ran cool, I put on a little makeup and did my hair.

I did feel better. More relaxed. And hungry as hell.

Since it was after ten, I couldn’t take advantage of the made-to-order breakfast.

If I were honest, I hated eating alone. Eating alone in a restaurant? I’d rather have a tooth filled. Still, I decided to try. I was trying a lot of new things.

After pairing a flowing tunic with some ripped boyfriend jeans, I shoved my feet into a pair of sandals and trotted down the stairs.

My heart jumped into my throat when I pulled open the door and found a burly biker type waiting on the other side. He spun around in time for the wood to meet his face.

“Ms. Grayson?” came his gruff voice.

Everyone knew my name. Most people knew my face. A warm greeting meant nothing.

Pulling my cell phone from my pocket in case I needed to call 911, I replied calmly, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Daryl Creston. Taryn Ayers hired me. I’m your new bodyguard.”

With a shaky hand, I tapped out a quick message to my best friend.

There’s a Hells Angel at my door. Is there something you forgot to tell me?

While waiting for her reply, I peered out the peephole. “Not that I don’t believe you, but do you have any ID?”

A second later he held up a laminated card with his picture. Creston Private Security.

“Yeah, okay.” Peering down at my phone, I willed it to ring or beep or something. “Just a minute, please.”

There was no way I was opening the door until I got a confirmation. A second later, Taryn’s face lit the screen, and I turned toward the wall to muffle my voice.

“Taryn,” I hissed.

“Oh God, Belle!” she exclaimed. “I’m so sorry.”

My shoulders sagged. “I’m going to kill you. Seriously, I’m going to fly home, kill you, then eat some barbecue. Because I won’t even feel guilty about killing you.”

Ignoring the threat, she rushed to say, “His name is Daryl Creston. He’s a retired cop. He works private security for all the big country stars and …”

While Taryn fumbled over the dude’s résumé, I flipped the lock and pulled the door open. Greeting Daryl with a smile, I held up a finger. He nodded, then wandered to the railing a few feet away, where he turned his back to give me some privacy.

“Thanks for the heads up,” I growled when Taryn finished. “I’ve got to go.”

“Wait!”

Wait was never good. “Yes?”

“Daryl’s with you for the rest of the tour.”

My stomach dropped. “What?”

“He’s the best. And he’s highly recommended. After what happened yesterday, I’m not taking any chances.”

Taryn may have stammered through her initial explanation, but now her tone brooked no argument. I could pitch a fit. But it probably wouldn’t do me much good. Daryl would continue to shadow me, popping out of the bushes when I least expected it. Might as well accept it now.

“I’m hungry,” I said, cutting Taryn off when she went in for the kill. “We’ll talk later.”

Ending the call, I let my head fall forward.

“Everything cool?” Daryl asked.

Regaining my composure, I pinned on a smile and stepped outside. “Yes. Fine.” I offered my hand. “Sorry, I’m Vic … Tori.” He gave me an odd look, and I felt my cheeks flame. “You can call me Tori.”

His beefy paw wrapped around mine, warm and reassuring. “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he drawled.

He wasn’t that scary after all. Except for the scar bisecting his brow. And the huge, bulging muscles. And the piercing brown eyes.

“Are you hungry, Daryl?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Okay, well … I’m going to go grab something at the café.”

He smiled. I think it was a smile. It looked a little foreign on his face. “Lead the way, ma’am.”

We made polite conversation as we strolled along, but Daryl was only half invested, his eyes darting from here to there behind dark glasses.

The smell of garlic and basil hung thick in the air as we stepped inside the restaurant. Daryl spoke to the hostess while I hung back and looked around. And that’s when I saw Logan seated at a corner table with his arm slung over his chair. Smiling up at the waitress, he appeared totally enraptured as she pointed to items on the menu.

Reality hit me, a knife gouging my heart. Casual, I reminded myself.

When the waitress giggled, tossing her long, sandy brown hair over her shoulder to give Logan a better view of her boobs, I scooted behind Daryl.

“I changed my mind,” I said when he shifted his gaze over his shoulder. “I’ll just take something to go.” Peering around his bulky frame, I smiled at the hostess. “Do you have anything already prepared?”

Her jaw came unhinged, and her eyes widened. She recognized me.

Fuck. Focus, lady. Please.

It took a minute, but she recovered. “We have pizza by the slice. Pepperoni. Plain cheese. Combination. And …” Her excitement got the better of her and an unrestrained smile broke on her lips. “I’m sorry … I just love your music. Damaged was my favorite band. I cried for a week when …”

Tuning her out, I nodded. I knew this scene by heart. A sincere apology for my loss, followed by a request for an autograph and a selfie. When her mouth stopped moving, I took the notepad she offered and signed my name while I mumbled an order for a slice of pepperoni.

Once she was gone, I said to Daryl, “I’m going to wait right over there.” His brows drew together as he followed my gaze to the alcove by the door with all the brochures for local attractions. Since I wasn’t asking for permission, and it was only ten feet away, I didn’t wait for him to reply.

As I gathered information about wine tasting tours and the distillery on the property, I stole glances at Logan out of the corner of my eye. He was alone now, staring out the window at the grounds.

A moment later, Daryl shuffled over, takeout bag in hand. “Ready, ma’am?”

Smiling so brightly my cheeks hurt from the effort, I nodded and let him usher me out the door.

Picking at my pizza, I gazed out at the pond while Zoe chattered away in my ear. I’d called to talk to Mama and Daddy, but my little sister had quickly commandeered the phone.

“… and then,” she snorted, “Daddy chased the guy off the stoop and told him he’d whoop his ass if he showed up again.”

Easing onto my back, I closed my eyes and let the sun warm my face. “Which guy was that?”

She sighed. “Don’t you ever listen, Vic? The guy with that blog that draws dicks on people’s faces.”

“Zoe!” My mama hollered in the background. “Language.”

Another sigh. “Sorry, penises.”

I chuckled when I heard a familiar thwap, and I pictured Mama’s wooden spoon meeting my sister’s behind.

Zoe howled.

“You big baby,” Mama grumbled. “You know that didn’t hurt. Now give me the phone.”

My sister mumbled something that could’ve been goodbye. Or maybe she was sassing our mother, because another howl nearly broke my eardrum.

And then Mama was on the line. “I swear, I don’t know where she comes up with this stuff. What does she know from penises? She’s fourteen!”

Pressing my lips together, I stifled a laugh. “Do you want me to tell you how much I knew about penises when I was her age?”

A shadow fell over me, and I moved my arm, squinting into the bright sunshine. “If she doesn’t, I do,” Logan declared, a sinful smile curving his lips as he plopped down next to me.

My mouth fell open, because what the hell was he doing here? The pond was nowhere near the carriage houses.

“Ma … let me call you back.”

Since my mother had a habit of ignoring my first request to end a call, it took me three tries to get her off the phone. By that time, Logan was stretched out with his legs crossed at the ankles, sucking on a blade of grass.

“Hey,” I said, pushing a hand through my hair.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me.” He cut his gaze to mine and raised a pale brow. “Spill.”

“Spill?”

He rolled halfway onto his side, his weight on one palm. “Penises. Tell me all about it.” My eyes flicked over to Daryl, who was now standing a few yards away with his back to us. Logan looked over his shoulder. “Nice guy,” he said of my bodyguard. “Met him this morning when I was doing the walk of shame from your place. Not really much of a talker.” He brought his gaze back to mine. “So … about the penises.”

I laughed. Honestly, I couldn’t help it. “Do you have questions about something? A burning sensation perhaps?”

Amused and maybe a little surprised by my comment, he snorted. “Nope. Just wondering how old you were when you tamed the one-eyed monster.”

My cheeks ignited, burning with the heat of the sun. “No way. That’s too personal.”

Logan scooted closer, dipping his head to whisper in my ear. “I know what you taste like. And the sounds you make when you come. I don’t think there’s anything too personal at this point.”

When I turned slightly, his lips were right there. So close I could feel his breath fan over me. “All right. But you go first. How old were you?”

His mouth curved into a shit-eating grin. “Fifteen.” I blinked at him, and he chuckled. “It’s different for guys. That’s like number one on the bucket list. Find a girl and—”

“Fourteen,” I blurted, biting down my own smile.

Logan fell onto his back, his chuckle turning to a full belly laugh. When he got a hold of himself, he tucked an arm behind his head. “No wonder Rhenn was always smiling.”

For a moment there was only silence. Even the air grew still while I waited for the clouds to press down on me and the pain to bloom in my chest. When nothing happened, a bubble of laughter tripped from my lips. “Never thought of it that way.”

Logan’s palm trailed up my arm and over my shoulder, fingers twining into my hair. “I’ve got something for you. Hold out your hand and close your eyes.”

My lips parted, but his thumb found that spot at the base of my throat and I reluctantly complied. “I hope I’m not going to regret this,” I mumbled, holding my palm up.

He moved away from me for a second, and I heard paper crinkle. And then I felt something warm on my skin.

“Okay, you can look.”

My lids fluttered open, and I tilted my head. “It’s a cookie.” I blinked at him. “You brought me a cookie.”

“Oatmeal raisin. The chef swears it’s fresh from the oven.” He broke off a large piece and held it to my lips. After I took a nibble, he popped the rest in his mouth. “It’s good. Not as good as you, though.”

Warmth spread through me, and I looked away.

He tugged my sleeve. “Come here. Someone kept me up all night. I need to rest my eyes.”

I scooted to his side, and his arm looped around me, pulling me against his solid frame. Soon his breathing evened out, but I couldn’t relax. So I settled for eating the rest of my cookie and listening to Logan’s heart beating a gentle rhythm under my ear.