6. Sierra

6

SIERRA

THREE WEEKS LATER

" A bsolutely not." I give Logan an unamused look as he holds up a bright green, full-body pickle costume. "I'm not dressing up as a giant pickle for Halloween."

He groans, looking devastated. "Come on. You'd look adorable."

"Nope. Not happening."

Logan shakes his head and looks at the racks of costumes around us. We're the only ones in the costume store—Logan talked the owner into letting us have it to ourselves for an hour after their normal closing time. It was super sweet of him to do that for us, but I also feel guilty that he had to do it in the first place. This would be so much simpler if I didn't draw attention in public places.

Logan reaches for a goofy banana costume. "How about this one?"

I snatch it from him, laughing. "You're terrible at this."

"I'm great at this," he says with a grin. "You just have no taste."

I scoff. "Seriously? You're insulting me now?"

Logan laughs and pulls me into him, his steady embrace making my heart trip. "I apologize. You have perfect taste, Sierra. Kiss and make up?"

I pretend to think about it for a few seconds, then nod. He dips his mouth down to meet mine, his kiss ever so sweet. One kiss from him makes me crave more, but right now isn't the time or the place.

These past few weeks have been nothing short of incredible. I actually feel like myself again. It's been so nice to spend time with my family, eat home-cooked meals, slow down and enjoy the simple things…but most of all, it's been so good to reconnect with Logan. Ever since that day that he brought the picnic over, I've known that it was the right decision.

The thought of my return flight to LA lurks at the edges of my mind, but I push it away. I don't need to think about that now.

Logan disappears down an aisle, then returns triumphantly holding the most hideous costume I've ever seen. It's a lumpy, misshapen blob covered in stringy tentacles and bloodshot eyes.

"This," he declares, "is perfect."

I stare at him, slack-jawed. "You cannot be serious."

"Oh, I'm dead serious." His grin widens. "This is the one for you."

I narrow my eyes. "Fine. I'll wear that monstrosity…if you wear whatever I pick out for you. And if you come over to my parents' house on Halloween to help hand out candy."

Logan doesn't hesitate. "Deal."

Two nights later, I'm wearing my hideous monster costume and impatiently rapping my knuckles against the door of my parents' upstairs bathroom. "Logan, come on! The trick-or-treaters are going to start showing up any minute!"

A muffled groan comes from behind the door. "I look ridiculous."

"That's the point," I call back. "Hurry up!"

The door creaks open, and I burst out laughing. Logan is standing before me in a skin-tight, hot pink unitard, complete with a tutu and fairy wings. The only part of his costume that's missing is a sparkly tiara—which is gripped tensely in his hand.

"I hate you," he grumbles.

"You love me," I counter, reaching to take the tiara from his hand and placing it on his head. "And you look absolutely beautiful."

Logan rolls his eyes, but I'm pretty sure I catch amusement in his face. "Yeah, yeah. I'm a regular fairy princess."

I stand on my tiptoes and plant a kiss on his lips. "I promise I'll make it worth your while later tonight."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Is that a promise?"

"Mm-hmm," I say, running my fingers along the edge of his tutu.

Logan suddenly looks much more enthusiastic about his costume. "Well then, we better get on with handing out this candy. The sooner we're done?—"

I laugh, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the stairs. "Easy there, cowboy. We've got a long night of trick-or-treaters ahead of us first."

The next few hours fly by in a whirlwind of laughter, sugar, and adorable costumes. Logan and I answer the door together, exclaiming over each little ghost, superhero, and princess that shows up on my parents' porch.

I can't stop myself from stealing glances at Logan throughout the night. Even in his ridiculous fairy princess get-up, he's still hot as hell. But what really gets me is how sweet and patient he is with every kid that comes to the door. He kneels down to compliment their costumes, asks about their favorite candy, and makes silly faces that have them giggling uncontrollably. Seeing him interact with the kids like that makes my heart swell.

As the night wears on, the stream of trick-or-treaters slows to a trickle. By nine o'clock, it seems like the last of them have made their way through the neighborhood.

"I think that's it for the night," I say, peering out the front window. "Want to head back to your place?"

Logan nods, giving me one of those smiles that's meant just for me. "Thought you'd never ask."

I head into the kitchen, where my parents are cleaning up from dinner. "Hey, we're going to head over to Logan's for a bit. I'll be back late, so don't wait up."

"Alright, sweetie," my mom says. "Have fun and be safe."

As Logan and I leave my parents' place, he wraps an arm around me, his warmth shielding me against the chilly October night. He only pulls his arm away so he can open up the passenger door of his truck for me. I slide into the truck and watch him as he strides around to the driver's side. As we set off toward the ranch, I smile, thinking about the evening we just had.

"You were great with those kids tonight," I say, looking over at him. "You'll make an amazing dad someday."

Logan glances at me, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You think so?"

"Absolutely. The way you interacted with them was really sweet."

He's quiet for a moment, then asks, "Do you still want three kids?"

I blink, surprised. "You remember that?"

"'Course I do. You used to talk about it all the time when we were younger."

Warmth spreads through my chest. "I do still want three. Although I'm not as confident it'll happen anymore."

Logan is quiet for a beat. Then, with exaggerated seriousness, he says, "All right. Here's what we're going to do. You'll take an extended hiatus from music, move back to Montana, and we'll have those three kids together."

I laugh, my stomach fluttering even though I know he's kidding around.

"Easy as that, huh?" I say.

"Easy as that."

"All right, Magnuson. You've got yourself a deal."

We both laugh, but there's an undercurrent of…something else. The idea of having kids with Logan, even said in jest, makes my heart race. I can imagine a life here in Montana, away from the spotlight, raising a family with him. It's a future I've never let myself consider before, but now that the thought's there, I can't shake it.

I steal a glance at Logan, wondering if there's any chance he's thinking the same thing. Part of me desperately wants to know, but I can't bring myself to ask.

Soon, we're at the ranch, stepping through the front door of Logan's cozy home, the familiar scent of the place enveloping me.

Logan grimaces, tugging at his pink unitard. "I need to get out of this ridiculousness." He shoots me a playful glare. "You're evil, you know that?"

I laugh. "Go get changed."

As he disappears down the hallway, I peel off my own costume, revealing the comfy leggings and long-sleeved top underneath. I'm exhausted from the day's festivities, and I flop onto Logan's worn leather couch with a contented sigh.

A few minutes later, Logan reappears in sweatpants and a soft t-shirt. He eyes the couch, where I'm sprawled out taking up every inch.

"Planning on sharing?" he asks.

I stretch luxuriously. "Nope. This is my couch now."

Before I can react, Logan is sitting on top of me, torturing me with his weight. I let out a protesting squeal as I squirm to get out from underneath him. He laughs and maneuvers us into a more comfortable position, draping my legs over his lap.

"So," he says, slowly massaging my legs, "about that promise you made me earlier…"

I tilt my head, feigning innocence. "What promise?"

Logan smirks. "You forgot all about it, huh?"

"Gosh, Logan. It seems I have."

"How convenient." His hands slide up my thighs, sending a shiver of anticipation through me. "Guess I'll have to do this instead."

Logan's hands reach the waistband of my leggings and he tugs them down, pulling them off in one smooth motion. His eyes, dark with desire, lock onto mine as he does the same with my panties. My breath quickens as he shifts to move between my legs. The next thing I know, he's kissing his way up my thighs.

I moan as he buries his face between my legs. His tongue slides over my clit, sending a surge of heat rushing through me. He takes his time with his licks, savoring my pussy, groaning as if he's the one on the receiving end of this pleasure. If his groaning wasn't enough evidence that he's enjoying it, the massive bulge in his sweatpants is undeniable proof.

"Logan," I breathe. "Oh, God."

He smiles and then flattens his tongue against me, his licks growing more demanding. I'm drowning in how good he's making me feel. My breathing comes harder, my fingers digging into the couch as the promise of an orgasm swells inside me.

This intimacy, this connection, it's all ours. Neither of us have been with anyone else. It's so pure. And the more I think about that, the hotter I feel.

My hips buck against Logan's mouth, my breath coming in short gasps. Logan groans in response, his tongue circling my clit with just the right amount of pressure. I come hard against his mouth, my body shuddering with release. Waves of pleasure wash over me, and I cry out his name, my hands gripping the couch cushions.

Logan doesn't stop until he's wrung every last bit of pleasure from me, leaving me breathless and spent.

I'm still reverberating from the intense orgasm he just gave me as I watch him stand up to his full height and strip off his clothes. His shirt comes off first, revealing his gloriously muscular chest and defined abs. Then off come his sweatpants, and finally his boxers, freeing his thick, rigid cock.

God, he's so fucking hot.

My heart pounds like crazy as I watch him tear open a condom wrapper and roll it onto his length. I'm mesmerized by the sight of him handling himself. Before I can stop myself, my mind drifts back to his playful comment about us having babies together. The thought of him coming inside me, of us creating a life together, sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through my body.

Logan settles between my legs, his blue eyes filled with desire and something deeper, something that makes my heart ache. I wrap my legs around him, inviting him in. He dips his head down, capturing my lips in a heated kiss as he positions himself at my entrance.

He guides himself into me, pushing slow but deep on the first thrust. I gasp against his mouth, my back arching as he slides in. He's so big, so thick, stretching me in the most delicious way.

His hands slide to my hips, possessively gripping my curves as he begins to move. Each thrust is powerful, deliberate, in control. His cock fills me completely, claiming what was always and only his. Our bodies fall into a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing, as if we were made for this, made for each other.

"Fuck, Sierra," he groans, his voice a low rumble. "You feel incredible."

I can only manage a moan in response, overwhelmed by how good it feels to have him inside me. Each stroke sends a wave of pleasure through me, building and intensifying. He rolls his hips faster, pumping rougher into me, making me breathless again.

I moan his name. I moan it over and over again. He answers me, deeply groaning my name back to me. My nails dig into his shoulders as I cling to him, delirious with pure pleasure.

"I'm so close," I choke out.

"So am I." He gives me a kiss full of need. "Come with me, beautiful."

"Harder, Logan. Oh God?—"

I wish he was fucking me raw. I wish he would come inside me and truly make me his.

Each rough stroke ushers us closer and close to the edge. And then we're both there, together. My orgasm crashes over me, my pussy pulsing tightly around his cock, and he's groaning, pulsing inside me as he comes.

In that moment, even our heartbeats are in perfect sync.

Afterward, we curl up on the couch, a warm blanket draped over us. Logan flicks on the TV, scrolling through the channels until he finds an old black-and-white horror movie. As the opening credits roll, I snuggle closer to him, relishing the warmth of his body against mine.

The movie plays, but I'm barely paying attention. I'm too distracted by every spot where Logan's body touches mine. My attention is on the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his arm tightens around me during tense scenes, the occasional brush of his lips against my hair.

It hits me then, with startling clarity, how hard I've fallen for him over these past few weeks.

Or, rather, how I never truly fell out of love with him in the first place.

I've been fooling myself all these years, thinking I'd moved on. The truth is, Logan has always been there, a constant presence in the back of my mind. Our connection, our history—it's all just been dormant, waiting for the right opportunity to reignite.

An especially scary scene in the movie makes me jump, and Logan pulls me closer, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my arm. The simple gesture sends a wave of emotion through me.

This feels right, being here with him. It feels like home.

But that's the problem—this isn't my home anymore. I've built a whole life in LA., a life I can't just leave behind.

And in a handful of days, I have to go back to it, saying goodbye to Logan again for an indeterminable amount of time.