The two of them managed to get Ben’s Prius packed without so much as a word to each other, until finally, Logan couldn’t stand it anymore, and he caught the other guy by the arm in the driveway. “Hey, listen. I know you don’t have a very high opinion of me and probably for good reason, but thank you for being there for Hope. It’s not my intention to hurt her again, and I promise I’ll do my very best to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  Ben watched him closely for a second and said, “I hope your best is good enough. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to say goodbye to Hope.”

  Logan puttered around in the yard while the two said their goodbyes, Ben’s words looping through his head on endless repeat. He’d known Hope had been upset when things had ended between them, but he’d never imagined things had been as difficult for her as Ben had described. The thought of Hope, suffering like that because of what he’d done made him want to rip his own heart out and stomp on it.

  When Ben finally left, Logan wandered back into the house, focusing on what he’d found out at the address Hope had sent him to and not the weird sense of guilt bubbling inside him. “Uh, I found out some stuff at that address.”

  “Really?” Hope looked over her shoulder at him from where she was making a snack in the kitchen. “What?”

  “Well, it turns out that C. Parsons is actually Clarissa Jones.”

  She stopped and faced him, mouth gaping. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.” He walked over to lean a hip against the edge of the counter. There was a crease in her cheek from the pillow she’d been asleep on, and he had the crazy urge to trace it with his finger. Instead, he fisted his hands and crossed his arms. Touching her now wouldn’t help anything. “After I saw her come out of the house, I went to the library and looked up some old newspaper articles about her wedding to Desmond. Her maiden name was Parsons.”

  “Wow.” She put the butter knife she held in the sink then picked up her PB&J and walked past him to sit at the table. “That could be a major discovery. I mean, it’s probably not enough to convince the police that she’s behind the threat to me, given how much Desmond donates to their department, but maybe it might be enough to get them to look into her on the down-low and see if she has some connection to the Diana Lauren case that she doesn’t want anyone to find.”

  “Maybe.” He took the chair across from her, noticing the dot of strawberry jelly at the corner of her mouth and wanting to lick it off—but he stopped himself. Shit. He needed to get a hold of himself, but all he could think about was all the stuff Ben had told him. He wished his memories of the breakup were better, but, honestly, he’d been drunk as a skunk that night. He’d met up with some friends at a bar and gotten wasted, as usual back then. The plan had been to leave the bar in time to head to the wedding, but the more he’d had to drink, the less he’d remembered his obligations, and he’d ended up staying at the bar with his friends. He hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten until Hope had finally tracked him down. He knew they’d fought, badly, though he couldn’t remember exactly what they’d said to each other. Of course, he also remembered that he'd been deep in his own shit that night. Way too deep. He hadn’t been paying the best attention either. He knew he’d screwed up a lot, but then she also forgave him a lot. That fight hadn’t felt any different from the ones that had come before it. He’d figured they’d fight, then he’d apologize, then she’d put on a brave face and say it was fine because that’s what Hope did back then. She’d tell him she loved him, and they’d patch things over for the time being as they always did.

  But then everything had gone off the rails, and she’d broken up with him.

  That part he did remember clearly. And he needed to find out why she’d finally walked away.

  As she ate her sandwich, he said, “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin then offered him some of her pretzels. He declined. “Ask away.”

  “Why did you break up with me?”

  Hope stilled, watching him with wide eyes for a moment. “Uh, wow. Okay. Just in case this is leading somewhere, we are not getting back together.”

  “Understood,” he said, sneaking a pretzel after all. “So, why?”

  “Why do you want to know?” she asked, frowning. “What’s done is done. It’s in the past. Why rehash it now?”

  He sat back and sighed. “Not because I want to try to get you back. Don’t worry. I just…” He shrugged, thinking of his conversation with Jeremy that morning. “I think I need to understand so I can really, finally let what we had go. That way I can actually be of use to you and the baby as a support system without all that extra baggage. I need to know why it ended so I can understand that it was the right call for both of us.”

  She took another bite of her sandwich, chewing slowly and swallowing before answering. “Well, you know that our last fight was the night of Cindy’s wedding.”

  “Cindy?” He scrunched his nose. God, had he actually forgotten her name? Man, he really did suck as a boyfriend. “Your friend Cindy. Right.”

  “Yes.” She pushed her empty plate aside then crossed her arms, meeting his gaze. “You stood me up, in case you don’t recall. Anyway, I sat there at the reception, watching the newlyweds take their first dance, and I realized that I could never imagine myself doing that with you anymore. In the beginning, I could. You were the person I wanted to be with. Even though being a SEAL meant that you couldn’t be around much, I still thought it would all be worth it—that we’d find a way to make it work. But then Doyle got injured and everything changed. Up until then, you’d always been work hard, play hard, but this was different. After Doyle’s accident, your drinking wasn’t for fun anymore. You were angry all the time. With yourself, with the world. At home, at work. Always angry. And no matter how many times I tried to talk to you about it, you shut me out. And sure, I was upset you ghosted on Cindy’s wedding after promising you’d meet me there, but that wasn’t the reason I broke it off with you. It was just the final straw. It finally made me realize that you’d turned into someone I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with. The hard times, the difficult times, weren’t worth it anymore. I was done.”

  Logan sat there for a while, just taking that in. There’d always been some small part of him inside that hoped maybe there had been a misunderstanding, or something he could easily fix, so that they could maybe have a future one day. But now he realized that it wasn’t one thing at all. It was a history of behavior that made her not want to be with him, and there was nothing he could do about that. Finally, he exhaled then looked up at her. “Thank you for telling me that.”

  Hope got up and took her plate to the sink then walked over and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re welcome. And thank you for all the work you’ve done to heal yourself. I think you’ll make a great dad, in whatever way you want that to happen.”

  He sat at the table for a long time after she went to bed, thinking about his life choices and wishing with all his heart he hadn’t acted like such an asshole and could’ve been the man she deserved.

  13

  Hope got up early the next morning, even earlier than Logan. She got ready, then tiptoed quietly out of the bedroom and headed to the kitchen. She had a surprise in mind, after their talk last night. Hope knew that hadn’t been easy for him, and she appreciated his effort, even if it had stirred up past hurts.

  So today, on what would have been their anniversary if they’d stayed together, she was going to make pancakes. To the average cook, this probably wouldn’t have seemed like a big deal. But to Hope, who struggled to make mac and cheese from a box without burning it, it was a monumental undertaking.

  She pursed her lips and stared down at the recipe on her screen, pulling out all the ingredients on the list. According to the cook in the video, organization was key. So far so good. Matching her actions to the chef on screen, Hope mixed her flour and sugar and salt and baking powder, then whisked in milk and egg and oil. Okay. Good. Maybe she could get the knack of this after all.

  Then she went to pour her first batch onto the electric griddle and realized she’d forgotten to turn it on. All right, fine. No problem. She clicked the dial to 350 and waited, keeping an anxious eye on the bedroom doorway. She wanted this to be a surprise, so she was trying to do everything quietly so as not to wake him. The guy was a notoriously light sleeper due to his military training, so any little noise could ruin it.

  Right. She turned back to the griddle and realized she’d forgotten to grease it beforehand, so she poured out a teaspoon of oil, per the recipe, and drizzled it onto the hot griddle, only to find it hissed and popped, splashing up onto her hand and burning it.

  “Ow! Shit!” She hopped back and threw the plastic teaspoon into the sink, bringing her stinging hand to her mouth. Dammit. Onscreen, the chef happily flipped his pancakes and grinned into the camera. Hope stuck her tongue out at him. Scowling, she grabbed the bowl of batter and poured out three small circles of it onto the griddle, careful not to get any more oil splashed on herself. By now the video was done, so she fiddled with her phone to restart it instead of paying attention to the pancakes until a burned smell drifted around her. “Crap!”

  She grabbed the spatula and quickly flipped the cakes. They were a bit charred on one side, but with butter and syrup, he wouldn’t notice, right? The second batch went better and by the third, she was feeling pretty confident about herself, whistling and humming a favorite tune as she dished up more finished pancakes onto the serving platter. Hope was just about to pour out the last of the batter, when a clearing throat behind her had her whirling around, sending what was left of the batter splashing all over herself.

  Logan stood there, looking far too delectable in jeans and a T-shirt, his feet bare and his hair still wet from his shower. He took in her batter-stained appearance, giving her a quizzical look. “Whatcha doin’?”

  Damn. She set the bowl aside and switched off the griddle before grabbing a towel to clean herself up. “I was making breakfast for you, as a surprise.”

  “The fact that you’re cooking is surprise enough,” he said, stepping closer to brush away some batter from her cheek that she’d missed. “What’s the occasion?”

  Embarrassed, Hope shrugged and turned away to face the sink, as much to hide her reaction to him as anything else. Did he really not remember what today was? Maybe not, since guys seemed to be more forgetful about stuff like that, but still. After their talk last night, she’d thought it would’ve been on his mind.

  As she washed her hands, he leaned a hip against the edge of the counter beside her, so close she could smell the soap on his skin, feel his warmth, hear his deep, steady breath. Oh Lord. Want sizzled through her bloodstream. She shouldn’t be this aware of him. And yet, she was. Then he leaned over and brushed her hair behind her ear, and she damned near melted in a puddle of goo at his feet.

  “I remember what today is, Hope,” he said, his voice soft and low in the quiet space. “I was just making a joke, but obviously it didn’t work.”

  She gave an awkward laugh and shut off the water, yanked the towel off the hook, and stepped away from him fast, before she did something stupid like tackle him to the floor and make love to him right there, pancakes be damned. “It’s fine. We should eat before these get cold.”

  “Sure.” He watched her closely for a second more, then gathered plates and silverware to set the table. Soon they were seated across from each other, munching away on her pancakes and microwaved bacon, and it was pretty good if she did say so herself. Logan seemed to like it well enough too, since he ate four pancakes and three strips of bacon in about five seconds flat. “So,” he said, around a mouthful of food. “What’s on our agenda today? More investigation?”

  “Nah. Not much else to do, since it’s Sunday.” She’d made another call to Kleypas’s chatty receptionist the day before and discovered that he had been a chauffeur for Desmond and Clarissa Jones, back in the day, before he’d started his own company. But other than passing that information on to the police, which she’d done right after ending the call with the receptionist, all she could do was wait. A reporter who’d written a lot about the Diana Lauren case around the time it had happened was supposed to call her back too, but again, probably not until tomorrow, so it was a rare day off. She looked over at Logan, who was serving himself up more pancakes. Where he put it all, she had no clue, but there wasn’t a spare inch of fat on his muscular frame, so he probably burned carbs the way everyone else burned oxygen. Lucky guy. She took another bite of her second pancake, then asked, “Why? Did you have something in mind?”

  He met her gaze, heat sparking in his eyes before he blinked it away. For a moment, she thought he might want to have sex again, and her core clenched with heat. But no. Instead, he grinned and swallowed another bite of bacon. “No. This food is really good, by the way. Even if they are pity pancakes.”

  “What?” She wrinkled her nose at him. “What the hell is that? Why would I pity you?”

  “You know.” He lifted one shoulder and stared down at his plate. “After what we said last night and all.”

  She scoffed. “It’s not about that. This breakfast is about celebrating how far we’ve come.” She looked around the kitchen. “I mean, it’s not how I imagined things turning out, but hey. We’re going to have a great kid together. We’re going to solve a mystery too, as soon as the sources I’ve been trying to corral into interviews finally get on my damned schedule, so yeah. A celebration.” She raised her glass of orange juice in a toast. “To us.”

  Logan gave her an amused stare, then raised his own glass and clinked it with hers. “To us.”

  They ate in silence for a while before he continued. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” She bit off another piece of bacon. “Go for it.”

  “Do you think us having sex will mess with our friendship or us being parents?”

  Hope stopped mid-chew, surprised. Talk about out of the blue. She hesitated before answering. “Uh, well. I, um, I think that we’ll be fine,” she said at last, picking at her food with her fork. “I mean, it’s just until this case is over, right? And then you’re moving out and planning to go back to the SEALs, so…” Man, this was hard. Why was this so hard? It wasn’t like they hadn’t discussed this before and made an agreement about it. Still, Hope wasn’t someone who ran from hard conversations, and she wasn’t about to start now. She coughed, then continued. “I think that if you were going to be around long term, and we kept sleeping together, then things could get complicated, but since it’s only while you’re here, protecting me and the baby, it's okay.” Mouth dry, she took another gulp of juice. “We’re just friends in a stressful situation, seeking comfort and fun where we can get it, right?”

  Logan looked at her a moment, then away, giving a firm nod. “Right.” His shoulders visibly relaxed as he sat back and pushed his empty plate away. “That’s what I was thinking too, but I just wanted to make sure we were still on the same page.” He checked his watch then met her gaze once more, his slow smile causing all kinds of sexy chaos inside her. “I’ve got an idea.”

  “Yeah?” She had some ideas herself right about then.

  “Yeah.” He leaned forward and she expected him to take her hand, but instead, he reached beside her to pat her laptop. “How about we spend the morning choosing baby names? Maybe do some online shopping for baby stuff?”

  He could’ve knocked her over with a feather, Hope was so stunned. Still, she covered it with what she prayed was a convincing smile. “Uh, sure. Great. Sounds good. How about you help me clean this up first, though?”

  As they washed dishes and put things away, they bickered amicably over possible names for their child.

  “How about Genesis?” Hope asked as she put their clean plates away in the cabinet.

  “Like the first book in the bible?” Logan grimaced.

  “Yes, like in the bible. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with that. I just didn’t know you were so religious.”

  “I’m not religious, not particularly anyway,” she said, hanging the towel back on the hook while he put away the griddle, then they both went into the living room to sit on the sofa with her laptop. “I just like the way it sounds. And it would look good in a byline or on a book cover too. Very memorable.”

  “Whatever. How do you know the kid’s gonna be an author?” Logan asked, his shoulder brushing hers as they both settled back into the cushions. “Besides, I don’t want a name that sounds stupid when you shout it in a drill sergeant’s voice, or a high school coach’s voice.”

  Hope gave him a look. “Because you’re so sure the kid’s gonna be a soldier or athlete, huh?”

  He sighed and pointed at the computer. “How about we look at baby stuff instead for a while?”

  “Fine.” She typed in the address of a big-box store and started sorting through the categories. “I need pretty much everything. Crib, changing table, stroller, car seat. Plus, clothes, diapers, toys. I should register—then I can make my friends buy some of this stuff for me.”

  As she scrolled, Hope did her best to concentrate on the items onscreen and not the man beside her. God, he smelled good. She’d always loved him fresh from the shower, all warm and relaxed and clean. She loved snuggling with him at night, and now, seeing him all serious and frowning as he read about car seat safety ratings made her horny as hell.

  An image flashed into her head, unbidden. The two of them putting the baby to bed, then Logan carrying her to their bedroom afterward. They looked happy and content, and she realized with sickening, horrible clarity that she’d gone and done it. The one thing she’d sworn to herself she wouldn’t ever do again. She’d imagined another future with him.

  Dammit. So stupid, Hope.

  Her rational brain knew this was just sex, just nostalgia and pregnancy hormones and the stress of the moment. But sitting there with him, like an old, comfortable couple, it felt real. So real that she scooted a few inches away to give herself some space, but it wasn’t good enough. Nope. She needed to put some distance between herself and Logan, literally and figuratively, before she did or said something stupid. Again.