Logan sat down next to Wynter, closing the door after Dimitri. Having never been in a helicopter, panic rose in Wynter’s throat. She looked to Logan and Dimitri who both appeared solemn but altogether calm as if they’d done this a million times. But of course they have, she thought to herself. Meanwhile, all she could think about was crashing in the middle of the night inside the little tin can. A very lush, expensive tin can, but still it was night and it was raining. Both of those factors could not be good, she reasoned.
“Why are we..?” she began to yell over at Logan, her face white with fright.
He reached behind her seat and grabbed a pair of headphones. Ever so gently, he placed them onto her ears, gliding his thumb down the side of her cheek. Wynter gazed into his eyes, wanting desperately to talk with him about what had happened, but as she went to open her mouth, he looked away and put a set on his own ears.
“Why are we taking a helicopter? Are you sure this is safe?” Wynter asked, her voice laced with alarm. “It’s raining.”
“Not optimal but it’s let up some. Besides, the wind has died down and there’s no fog. We don’t want to take any chances getting ambushed on the roads. Don’t worry, it’s safe.”
“‘Bout forty-five minutes to an hour, if the weather cooperates. You’ve never flown in a whirlybird, cher?” Dimitri inquired with a relaxed smile.
“No I haven’t,” she replied, gasping as they vaulted up into the night sky. Her fingernails dug into the leather, and she hoped they wouldn’t leave scratches. She watched in wonder as tiny lights below flickered in the distance as they buzzed toward their destination.
Logan, unable to take another minute of his self-imposed isolation, reached for Wynter’s hand. Slowly peeling her fingers from the seat, he placed her palm on his leg, and caressed her fingers. Goddess, he missed touching her. The small gesture sent loving tendrils throughout his body, reminding him that she really was his mate. When they got home, they’d have to have a long discussion about their relationship, her future as a wolf.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he assured her in a tender voice that he hadn’t used since before she’d left to go with Jax. He continued to massage her hand, sliding a thumb into her palm. “Just rest. We’ll be there soon.”
Wynter relaxed into the small but poignant contact. Her hand burned with warmth radiating from his thigh, and she fought the urge to lean into him, to touch him, to kiss him. As if her body obeyed his directive, she let her forehead rest against the cool window. Within seconds, she’d fallen fast asleep to the soft lullaby of the humming blades.
Creaking metal woke Wynter. The silence that followed told her they had landed. Logan, who’d already begun exiting, extended his hand.
“We’re home,” he told her.
Home? No, his home, not hers, she thought. But still, that small spark of hope told her to embrace her future with optimistic curiosity. Her heart fluttered in response. With a cautious smile, she clasped her palm in his, accepting his assistance down the steps.
It was only a short ride from the helipad to Logan’s house. When they’d exited the car, Wynter eyed the blue tarp which covered the exterior of the huge contemporary house. It appeared unfinished yet lights glimmered through the undraped casement windows. Floodlights illuminated the fresh landscaping, and the smell of newly laid mulch and fragrant roses permeated the night air.
The rain had subsided, and they quickly made their way up the walkway towards the entrance. Logan flipped open a security pad and typed in a code. The lock clicked open and he turned the handle. As they entered, she followed Logan’s lead and kicked off her sodden shoes, thankful she’d gone without stockings. In a few minutes, her feet would dry nicely and the smooth hardwood floor felt soothing to her sore toes.
“Adèle,” Logan called.
Wynter looked around the foyer that led into a spacious great room. A modern rectangular shaped gas lit fire blazed atop its round white stones. The black pit, outlined in stainless steel, stood out against the cream-colored Kasota stone hearth. Three tall vases filled with ornamental grass sat atop a thin dark wooden mantel.
A soft purring creature rubbed against her legs, startling Wynter. She knelt down, petting the sweet cat who meowed and pressed its head into her hands.
“Well, hello, kitty,” she said softly, touching its ears.
“I see you’ve met Mojo,” Logan acknowledged.
“Hmm? You have a cat?” Wynter replied in surprise, trying to hide her amusement.
“Here kitty, kitty. Come to Daddy,” Logan sang in his best baby voice. The small black ball of fur ran toward him, purring voraciously, and he scooped the kitten into his arms, placing kisses on her head. He continued to talk in a soft voice, pretending to talk to the cat while really answering Wynter. “Yes, I have a kitty. And she’s such a good girl, aren’t you? Who’s a good kitty?”
“Mojo,” she repeated, smiling.
Wynter watched in amazement as the Alpha tenderly caressed the sweet little creature. Of all things she thought might happen tonight, this certainly was not one of them. As this terrifyingly attractive side of Logan was revealed to her, she fought the urge to run up and kiss him. The wanting, the temptation was so great; she forced herself into the floor, remaining rooted in place.
“She’s not very much into Voodoo, but she’s lucky,” he explained, petting her and rubbing his face into her soft fur. He caught Wynter examining him as if he had four heads. “What?”
“I’m just…I don’t know, surprised. I love cats, but a wolf with a cat? Seems counterintuitive.” And sexy.
“Yeah, that’s what Tristan thought too. His mate runs an animal shelter. One day, I spent quite a bit of time in her cat room. And what can I say?” He shrugged, fixing her with his eyes as if he was talking about her and not the cat. “I fell in love. You know, sometimes, Dr. Ryan, we can’t control who we fall in love with. Sometimes even when things don’t make sense, they actually make the most sense in the world.”
Wynter blushed and looked away. Oh God, she wanted to touch him so badly. Heat filled her body. Desire pulsed through her veins. She tried to think of anything but sex. What was wrong with her? Just as she’d mustered enough bravery to respond coherently, a portly woman with a gray bun wandered into the foyer. Logan let the cat jump to the floor, approached and gave her a hug.
“Ah, Adèle. Meet Wynter. Wyn, this is Adèle. She’s kept me in one piece since I’ve moved home.”
“Nice to meet you.” Wynter noticed how at ease Logan was with his housekeeper.
“Wynter va rester avec moi,” he told the woman. Adèle ran her eyes over Wynter before conceding that she was welcome.
“Oui, oui. Bonjour, Wynter,” Adèle greeted. She briskly turned on her heels, speaking rapidly in French. She waved an arm, gesturing for them to follow. “Allons, le dîner est prêt.”
“Merci, I’m starving,” Logan picked up a piece of fluffy white bread out of a bowl and quickly stuffed it into his mouth before she had a chance to protest. “Merci beaucoup pour obtenir la maison prête. Everything looks great.”
Adèle pointed to the large glass dining table, and promptly set out another place setting for his guest. Logan sat at the head of the table and gestured for Wynter to sit at his side. Wynter, famished, obeyed, not sure what she should do next. The enticing aroma of a basket of warmed New Orleans-style French bread teased at her nose. Adèle set out two large bowls of what Wynter thought was gumbo, and plates of salad.