Next morning Sky woke up on top of Logan, her head on his chest. He was caressing her back.

“You awake?”

“No,” she mumbled.

His soft chuckle reverberated through her body. He kissed the top of her head. “Time to get up.”

“Five more minutes.”

“No.” Holding her by her ass, Logan stood up.

Sky wrapped herself around him. “Where are we going?” she asked, never lifting her face from the crook of his neck.

“Don’t worry, babe,” he murmured.

Okay. She was so comfy, rocking against his warm chest, her legs dangling. Hypnotic. Even the white noise. No wonder kids zonked out right away while being carried around.

The white noise got louder, but she fought to continue sleeping. Suddenly, she realized she was getting wet.

“Logan!” she shrieked, lifting her head in time for the spray to hit her. Crap, they were in the shower.

The bastard was laughing. “It’s warm, baby.”

No shit. She hid her face again as the water ran down their bodies.

Actually, it was quite relaxing.

“Where did you think I was taking you, Butterfly?”

“Oh, I don’t know. To a romantic breakfast in the nude?”

“Sure,” he chuckled. “How am I supposed to cook anything with a monkey around my front?”

“Hey!” She slapped him.

He was still laughing. “You going to stand by yourself?”

She shook her head, wrapping her legs even tighter around his waist.

“Fine. I’ll take care of you.”

Soon he was making circles on her back. Lather dripped over her. Well, that was more than relaxing. Apparently Logan thought so too, because his erection prodded her. She flicked her tongue against his throat. He tasted salty.

“I’m going to need to wash your front,” he whispered into her hair.

She lifted her head and slowly unglued her chest from his. God, he looked so sexy all wet, his muscles bulging and glistening. His hard-on at the ready. She squeezed her thighs around his hips.

“I’m getting short on hands,” he said, pressing her back to the wall.

She watched while he lathered her front, his slippery fingers stroking her, awakening her body. “Logan?”

“Yes?”

“You’re going to make me ask for it, aren’t you?” His huge erection jerked, growing even bigger.

His smirk was all male. “Ask for what?”

She reached between them, grabbing his dick. “For this. Fuck me.”

“Put my cock inside you,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

Drill sergeant. She placed the crown at her entrance, pushed it in a couple of inches. At the contact, Logan tensed. Then she clamped her muscles around him hard, and he groaned.

“I can make myself come like this,” she said, squeezing rhythmically and rubbing her clit. “If you want more, you’ll have to do something about it.”

With a growl, he drove in to the hilt. “Hands off your clit. That’s my job.”

“You were getting short on hands, remember?”

He ignored her snark. “And you better grab on to something. You’re going to need the leverage.”

He wasn’t kidding. Clutching her hips, he started nailing her to the wall. He was slippery, so she gripped the metal handle on the shower door and held on for dear life while he pounded into her, hard and fast, slamming against her clit with every plunge.

She shouldn’t have teased him. Wait, yeah, she should have.

“Logan, coming,” she screamed, not sure he could hear her over the sounds of the water and their lovemaking.

He pressed his body heavily into hers and spoke against her mouth. “Come. Now. Milk me.”

At his words, her pussy contracted in a strong convulsion, sending her over, her mind imploding into a million pieces. Logan was right there with her, coming with a roar.

When she floated back from la-la land and managed to open her eyes, she saw Logan smirking. “A much better Monday morning here than at Mrs. Rantala’s, huh?”

She giggled. “No kidding. Put me down.” Now she did need a full shower. Her legs felt a bit wobbly, but Logan steadied her.

Washing each other led to another round against the wall. Logan wasn’t in a hurry in the morning. By the time they made it out of the bathroom, food was calling to Sky louder than the bed.

“What do you want to do today?” he asked.

“What would you do if I weren’t here?”

He tipped his head toward the greenhouse. “Work.”

She tried not to flinch but failed miserably. “Do you need help? I can—”

His shout of laughter interrupted her. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to. Besides, there’s not much non-chemistry stuff to do now, unless you want to watch mushrooms grow.”

“I’ll go to town. I want to speak with Shayna.” If Sky was going to stay with Logan, there was one thing she needed to sort out.

“Okay.” He looked at his watch. “You have fifteen minutes. Get dressed.”

“Fifteen minutes until what?” she asked, following him to the bedroom.

“You’ll see.”

Okay. Cryptic, much? “Do I have to go full-blown Brazilian ass and boob contour?”

He brought her to him for a hard kiss. “I’d appreciate it.”

The whole nine yards. She liked pleasing him. Too much, probably.

She was all but done when she heard the doorbell ringing. “Time’s up,” Logan said as he went to answer. She followed him down the stairs a moment later.

Carol stood in the doorway with a plastic bag. Poo delivery. She spotted Sky right away. “Oh, you’re still here?”

Smiling, Sky nodded. “Going to town now.”

“Great!” Carol shrieked. “I’ll come with you.”

Logan, a big, knowing smile on his face, whispered to Sky, “Told you you were on the clock. I’m going to work. Fetch me or give a holler when you want to drive to Paris.”

* * *

Sky entered the Hacker Shack and went straight to Shayna, who was clearing a table. “I need your help.”

“Hi, what are you doing here?” Shayna asked, surprised. “Weren’t you leaving yesterday?”

“Logan didn’t let me.”

Shayna smiled. “Somehow I don’t see you putting up much resistance.”

No, she hadn’t. “I need a car by two o’clock at the latest.”

“Why?”

“I can’t keep using Logan’s now that I’m staying here.”

Shayna’s eyes went big. “Logan asked you to move in with him?”

“More like decreed it.”

“Are you unhappy about it?”

Sky didn’t even have to think twice. “No, I’m not.”

“You guys are getting pretty serious.”

“It’s a logistical issue more than anything. Too much driving back and forth for both of us.”

Shayna shook her head, looking amused as hell. “Are you wearing that cream Logan uses in the greenhouse? The one that doesn’t let you to smell anything offensive? Because you’re full of shit.”

Maybe. Okay, definitely. Although that didn’t change the fact that she was leaving at the end of the semester. “Be that as it may, I need to get a car of my own for the time being.”

“I don’t think Logan will mind if you take his truck. Have you spoken with him?”

Nope. She’d tried, but he’d distracted her very efficiently. Her brain didn’t work all that well in the morning, much less while being nailed to the wall, fighting to breathe and not come on the spot. “I haven’t,” Sky answered. “I know what he’s going to say though. That’s why the best option is to get the car and present it as a done deal.”

“Good move,” Shayna observed. “What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a rental.” It was only for a few weeks. She could figure out some way to pay for it.

Shayna shook her head. “There aren’t any rentals in town. But…”

“But what?” Sky was desperate. She’d take anything.

“How fussy are you about cars?”

Sky frowned. “What do you mean? I don’t care about the frills. I can drive a stick.” Hopefully.

“I’m talking about bullet holes and bloodstains,” Shayna said “How big a no-no are those?”

* * *

Logan was in the greenhouse when Sky walked in, wearing a gas mask and rubber boots along with a cute Chanel dress. He took out his cell and snapped a shot. That was a pic she ought to put on Instagram.

And she called him a fashion disaster.

Once she reached him, he lifted the mask off her face and put it on top of her head. “You’re nuts,” he said, dabbing some of his cream under her nose.

There it was, the cheeky smile that got to him every time. “I wasn’t risking it. I didn’t know if you just got a poo delivery.”

“You decided to help?”

She looked contrite. “Umm. Actually, no. Why? Do you need help?”

There it was, the same face of panic she’d had that morning when he told her he had work to do. So cute.

He kissed her. “No. You already helped me by coming in dressed like this. I got a pic. For your ‘living with a fashion disaster’ blog.”

“Send it to me,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am. Done. Time to go to Paris?” It was a bit early, but maybe she had some business to attend to. Like informing Mrs. Rantala that Sky was no longer a tenant.

“About that,” she said. “You don’t have to drive me.”

“Sure? It’s no bother.” As a matter of fact, he’d enjoy it. She shook her head vigorously, so he caved in. “Keys are in the ignition.”

“Yeah.” Her gaze drifted away. She looked suspiciously guilty.

“What’s the matter, Butterfly? Did everything go okay in town?” Because if anyone had said a word to upset her, they would have to answer to him.

“No, no,” she hurried to appease him. “The other way around. Everyone was very helpful. So much so that I got my own car.”

“Good— What? What do you mean your own car?” There were no rentals in town. No used-car lots.

“Shayna was free. She helped.”

Oh boy. He didn’t like where this was going.

“Do you know Monroe?” she continued, smiling innocently. Too innocently.

“Monroe the treasure hunter slash auctioneer who loves to bid for junk? Yes, I know him. Why?”

“He’s just been to several police auctions. He offered me a deal on a forfeited vehicle that I couldn’t refuse.”

Fuck. Monroe bought not-always-salvageable cars and worked on them. He’d even purchased some decommissioned pieces from military surplus auctions that were pretty scary. Where he got the contacts, Logan didn’t know. “Don’t tell me he saddled you with that EMP-proof 4x4 he’s been tinkering with.” Monroe’s custom vehicles made Mad Max’s transportation look like a sedan off the assembly line.

“Oh no. He didn’t have a chance to work on this car at all. He just bought it. Shayna scared me, but it doesn’t have bloodstains. Come see.”

No bloodstains. Yippee. He was so reassured. On the plus side, now he knew what face Sky put on when she was feeling uneasy and had something to hide.

“If Monroe’s inventory is anything to go by, they really like old cars around here,” Sky commented, walking toward the door.

“Well, any model that doesn’t have computerized systems. Those would get fried by an electromagnetic pulse.”

She nodded, pensive. “Hadn’t thought of that.”

Normal people never did.

Logan followed Sky to a dusty black Lincoln Continental from the seventies. The window on the passenger side was shattered, the glass held in place by wishful thinking. “That’s a gangsta car that’s been shot up in a drive-by.”

“That would explain the bullet holes in the chassis,” she concurred. “Monroe didn’t have time to repair those, but it runs fine. There’s a weird sound coming from the vents. Probably a bullet is loose in there and bounces when the engine is on.”

So much was wrong in this scenario, he didn’t even know where to start. “You plan to drive it like this?”

“Not like this, obviously,” she said, looking at herself. “I plan to change the rubber boots for stilettos.”

“I’m not talking about your outfit. I’m referring to the condition of this car hijacked from the latest episode of Cops.”

Sky rolled her eyes. “I think it’s very badass. No one will mess with me driving this.”

That was true, but Logan was more worried about the whole car falling to pieces in the middle of nowhere. And it was very impractical for winter. It rode too low.

Then he remembered she wasn’t going to be there in winter. Not even in summer. He shook that thought away. The queasy sensation in his gut was more difficult to shake, but he ignored it.

“Police will mess with you. It’s illegal to drive with a shattered window. The fines are pretty stiff. Just return it to Monroe and take mine. It has GPS. Heck, it has windows. You don’t need to spend money on this.”

“They won’t fine me if I say I’m driving to the mechanic, will they? I’ll bat my eyelashes at them. This car was a great deal. And Monroe said he’d take it back once I don’t need it anymore. Aside from a security deposit, all I have to do is help him with a few things.”

“What things?” he asked suspiciously.

“Organizing his niece’s birthday party and taking his wife to buy a new wardrobe. Oh, and going to a couple of auctions with him.”

Bad, bad idea. “Okay. If you don’t want my truck, let’s get you something from a real used-car lot in Paris.”

“I can’t afford it.”

“I can,” he insisted.

“No way.” Her tone was hard now. He wanted to complain, but she beat him to the punch. “This is a done deal, Logan. Besides, you recycle diapers. How much money can you make?”

“I made plenty before.”

“I’m not taking your money. I’m indebted to you enough as it is. End of discussion.” She crossed her arms, chest out, chin up, one eyebrow raised. So that was her face when something was final. Good to know that too.

He examined the car. “We’ll have to clean it up a bit, won’t we?” It was coated in so much dust, someone had been able to render obscene drawings on the back windshield. In detail.

She smiled and kissed him. “Wait. I have to immortalize this with a picture.” She grabbed her cell, snapped a photo, and started tapping. “Hashtag my new car, hashtag badass. Done.” She lifted her gaze to him. “I’ll upload the shot you took too.” More tapping. “Hashtag Minnesota rural life, hashtag fashion no-no. Hashtag how did I end up here.”

She was having way too much fun with this. In no time, her phone was beeping like mad. Her followers.

“You understand preppers love a quid pro quo, right? The favors Monroe asked for in exchange for the car will grow exponentially. Mark my words.”

“Drama queen. It can’t be that bad.” Scrolling through her phone, Sky gave a squeal of laughter.

“What?”

“Lola, my sister,” she answered, handing him her cell.

Under the photo from the greenhouse, Lola had commented “Run for your life, sis!” And under the one of the car, “What do you mean, your new car? And where the heck did you get it, the Gaza Strip?”

Logan returned her device. “I have a feeling she doesn’t approve.”

“You don’t say.” Her phone started ringing. She glanced at the screen and rejected the call. “Lola. I’ll talk to her later. Come on, I’ll take you out for a spin. I have some time before heading to Paris.”

As they got into the Lincoln, he heard a beep. “Sis left a message,” Sky said, pressing Play.

Her sister had whispered, “Please, if you’re being held against your will, give me a signal. I’ll come rescue you.”

Laughing, Sky turned on the engine. “Put your palm against the window, just in case the rocking makes the glass fall.” She looked around. “Clutch? Clutch? Ah, here.” She pressed the pedal and fought to get into first gear. The grating screech from the transmission was incredibly loud. Clattering, the car started to roll, the motor huffing and puffing and almost stalling out as she increased speed. “It might be a bumpy ride. Still getting the hang of driving a stick, but I’m almost there.”

Fantastic.

If anyone was in need of rescuing here, it was him.