Five minutes later, we drove up to what I liked to call the "rich district" of Ridgewater. The neighborhood where Kelsey Perkins and Chance Clemont lived. The houses were huge up here, the lots spacious.

I had expected the Carmichaels to be well off after seeing Logan's Corvette, but when we drove up to a sprawling white mansion, my jaw literally dropped.

"This is where you live now?" I asked when he stopped at a big wrought-iron gate and punched in a security code.

"Yep. Home, sweet home," he said in a sarcastic tone.

The gates slowly opened, and Logan drove down the long asphalt drive lined with tall snow-covered trees. The home's white exterior glistened in the late-afternoon sunlight, as if the paint had diamonds in it.

Logan had a look of apprehension in his eyes as he studied my reaction. "What do you think?"

I just sat there and stared at the expansiveness of it all. "It's beautiful. And I'm pretty sure my house could fit in yours about three times."

He shook his head. "My mom went a little overboard."

He rolled his car the rest of the way toward the house and into one of the many garages.

"How's your hand?" he asked once he'd parked and turned off his car.

My hand was wrapped in a napkin that he'd had in his glove compartment. "It hurts. But it's not bleeding as bad as it was."

"Let's go clean it up."

I followed him through the garage and past several other fancy vehicles. There was a Ferrari, an Escalade, and what I guessed must be Jace's Tesla. "Have you guys added more people to your family since you've been gone?" I asked.

He furrowed his brow. "No."

I counted at least six vehicles, most of them on the high-end. But there was one that didn't fit: an older Toyota Corolla that was at the last garage door opening. "Whose car is that?"

Logan looked back to where I pointed and shrugged. "That's Pam's."

"And who’s Pam?" He'd said they hadn't added anyone to their family.

"She's our housekeeper-slash-cook."

This was so out of my league.

I followed him through the door in front of the Escalade and we walked into what I guessed was a super fancy version of a mudroom. Logan sat down on a bench and started taking off his shoes, so I did the same.

Once our shoes were off, Logan led me into the huge kitchen that had tall white cupboards, white granite countertops, and a huge curved bar.

"We usually keep the first-aid kit in the main bathroom," he said.

I took in the high ceilings, the plush carpet, and expensive-looking furniture as we passed through the different rooms of the house.

"Did you guys really just move here last week?" I asked, confused.

Logan looked back to me as he walked down the hall. "Yeah, why?"

I shrugged. "I was just expecting to see a lot more boxes everywhere. It looks like you guys have lived here forever."

Logan switched on the light in the bathroom. "My mom had the movers set everything up before we moved in. She can't stand to have boxes to unpack or things out of their regular place."

Logan dug through a few drawers and cupboards before eventually coming out with the prettiest first-aid kit I'd ever seen. It wasn't the typical tackle box like my family had, with the words "first-aid" written in permanent marker across the top. Instead, it was a chic, teal rectangular metal box with fancy latches on the front.

"How about you wash your hand first and then we can get you all fixed up." Logan looked up at me briefly as he dug through the contents of the kit.

I switched on the expensive-looking nickel-coated faucet and washed my hands. The water turned pink as the blood washed off.

I shook my hands to try and dry them, not wanting the new blood that was resurfacing from my cuts to stain the nice plush towel hanging on the hook on the wall.

Logan must have noticed what I was doing and said, "Go ahead and use the towel. We have plenty."

I took the white towel off of the hook and patted my hands with it. Even the towel felt expensive. It was thick and soft. I kind of wanted to lift it to my nose and see if their fabric softener smelled expensive, too—but decided that would be weird. I wrapped the towel around the cuts and waited.

Once Logan had located all the things he needed to fix me up, he stepped closer. The light scent of winter air clinging to his skin met my nose.

"Let's see what we can do." Logan carefully removed the towel from my hand, his fingers lightly brushing across my skin.

"Looks like the tree scraped you up pretty good," Logan said as he gently ran his thumb across the back of my hand.

I held my breath as goosebumps raced across my skin from his light touch. And when he looked at me, my breath caught in my throat. I really hoped he hadn't noticed the way his touch affected me.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple shifting. "Let's sanitize this first." And when he slowly let go of my hand, it almost seemed like he didn't want to.

But of course that could have just been my imagination. I imagined things like this all the time with guys.

He made quick work of putting alcohol on a cotton ball and then turned back, regarding me with cautious eyes.

"This might sting a little." He took my hand again and gently ran the cotton ball along the scratches. I gasped at the cool feeling, and he asked, "Is that okay?"

My words suddenly fled me, so I nodded. We were so close, and he smelled so amazingly good. And I couldn't help but think about how gently he was treating me. I'd never had a guy take care of me before.

When I could finally speak again, I managed to say, "It was just cold. I'm fine."

So much for not being affected by him.

He finished with the cotton ball a moment later and then pulled out the triple antibiotic ointment. He squeezed the glob along the cut. "Go ahead and rub that in," he said.

I did as he said, my fingers shaking with nerves.

"How’s your other hand?" he asked.

I lifted it, urging it to hold still so he wouldn't realize how nervous he made me, and while there were no scrapes or cuts, my wrist did look swollen.

"I think I landed on it funny," I said.

He nodded. "I think so too." Then he dug through the first-aid kit again and came out with an ace bandage. "Let's go into the kitchen so you can sit down while I wrap that for you."

I nodded and released a shaky breath. "Okay."

What was happening to me? I was acting like I'd never been this close to a guy before.

In the kitchen, he pulled a chair out from the rectangular table. "You sit. I'll grab an ice pack, and then we can take care of that."

He went over to the fridge, opening the freezer side door. After rummaging around for a bit, he came out with an ice pack.

"Hopefully this will help," he said. Then he pulled out a chair for himself and scooted it closer so we sat knee to knee.

And I didn’t know why, since it was only our knees touching, but my legs were suddenly super wobbly and shaky.

I needed to stop thinking about my reactions to him because it was making me have even more reactions. And I couldn't be attracted to Logan. He was just being nice to me to prove he could be nice. He didn't actually like me.

I sighed. But it was hard not to be attracted to him when he’d been nothing but fun, and flirty, and wonderful since he'd come back.

Sure he'd tricked me on Friday night, but he'd also kissed me. And that kiss had been amazing…even if it had been under false pretenses.

I watched him as he wrapped my wrist. Was it wrong of me to want to try kissing him again? To see how it went if I thought he was himself instead of his brother?

I shook my head. I needed to stop thinking about that, especially when I was sitting knee to knee with him and he was bent over so our faces were less than a foot apart.

So I brought my mind back to the present moment. His long, agile fingers worked quickly as they circled my hand and wrist with the beige bandage.

"You're really good at this," I said, hoping small talk would help me remember that he was still on the rebound and I didn't get involved with rebound guys, anymore.

He peeked at me and gave me a half smile. "I've had to do this a few times."

"Yeah?"

He concentrated on what he was doing. "Remember when Jace and I were really into skateboarding in middle school?"

I nodded, picturing how they used to ride down our quiet street most afternoons after school and their mom would always yell at them to get out of the road because it was dangerous.

He lifted a shoulder. "We fell enough times that I got really good at this."

"Are you guys still as close as you were back then?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. We're probably a little too competitive now."

"Really?" I asked, intrigued. "What kinds of things do you compete for these days?" I knew they'd been into basketball before they moved, but was there something else?

He finished bandaging my wrist and set the icepack on top of it. "Mostly just girls."

"So did Jace go after your ex in Sweet Water, too?" I asked. And I don't know why, but a strange, intense feeling of jealousy at the reminder that he was still getting over her pushed its way into my chest.

"Yeah. We both went after Olivia, but for once I actually won. Though in hindsight, it would’ve probably been better if she'd picked Jace."

"Let me guess: she was a tall, leggy blonde with blue eyes."

Logan had always gone after that type in the past.

He shook his head and laughed. "You know me so well."

Dang it.

But then he leaned closer and spoke in a low, seductive voice, "But these days, I go for the dark-haired girls with chocolate brown eyes."

My throat threatened to close up when his gaze dipped down to my lips.

Was he hinting at something?

Should I be reading into this?

His gaze lifted to my eyes again, and my heart took off like a race horse. He was so unbelievably good-looking.

The sound of the garage door opening broke the lock our eyes had, and when I turned to see who had found me getting lost in Logan's eyes, I saw his brother.