243

SCARLETT

I brought the glass that Logan has just handed me to my lips and sparks flew around my brain from the very first sip.

“Oh my goodness, Logan. Why is this so strong? Do I look like a raging alcoholic?” I gagged dramatically and pushed the glass back to him over the kitchen counter.

He laughed, really laughed. The deep kind that came from the pits of one’s belly and caused their entire body to vibrate, then threw back that beautiful face of his while I admired the fact that he was all mine.

When he finally snapped out of it, my mild irritation from the strong drink he’d given me had already been washed off by the glorious sound of his rich laughter.

“You said on the drive back from work and I quote, ‘I’ve had such a long day, give me your strongest drink once we get home,” he made air quotes while smiling at his precise quoting of the request I’d made about ten minutes ago.

I rolled my eyes at him, “When a lady says that to you, she usually means a cocktail and not some sour gi