Chapter 8

L ogan pulls his truck in front of my apartment and parks. I'm due at his place later to watch Amelia while he gets a workout in, but I need to collect Clyde from my neighbor, who so graciously kept him while I was in New Hampshire. Which means I know he got a lot of head scratches and treats.

"I'd help you take your bag inside, but I don't want to leave her in the truck alone," Logan whispers from the driver's seat. "I kinda wanted to see my main man, Clyde. Bring him with you when you come by. Amy misses him."

Unbuckling my seat belt, I smile. "I think I'll be fine with my one overnight bag." My hand rests on the door. "Well, I guess I'll catch you later. You said six, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," he drawls in that yummy, thick Southern accent. He grins, popping that dimple out. "You gonna go inside and write?"

"Maybe," I say slowly, narrowing my eyes in question. "Why?"

"You're going to use a certain shower scene, aren't you?" He nods his head proudly. "I gave you some solid material last night. You're welcome, by the way."

"I am not!" I hush-yell, afraid to wake Amelia up. "Don't flatter yourself, asshole."

I push the door open, not wanting him to tease me anymore on this because, if I'm being truthful, I did want to use our little … encounter in my book. But when I tried to write it last night, I couldn't. I got too damn flustered. I'm basically a firework that's been lit, waiting to explode.

"Goodbye, Logan," I mutter. "See you later."

He calls something from behind me, but before he finishes, I shut the door and wave through the window before quickly heading inside.

As I make my way toward my door, I'm excited to see Clyde, yet this feeling of dread washes over me. Almost like I'm walking away from the light and heading into the darkness. I just spent the last few days with Logan Sterns and his daughter, feeling better than I had in years. Actual years. But they aren't my family. I'm just working for him.

The first thing I notice is that my door is cracked open, which is strange, but maybe my neighbor, Nancy, is in there, getting Clyde more food or something.

Walking to the open door, I call her name. "Nancy?"

No answer.

I know I'm being overdramatic, but I can't help it. This area is typically safe, but sometimes, there's an occasional break-in.

I stop just outside the open door and lean my head forward. Right away, I know something isn't right.

I'm excessively neat, and I live alone.

Someone came into my home, and they made a mess.

My heart sinks as I question if they took anything from me. What am I even thinking? Of course they did. They wouldn't just roll in to trash the place and bounce.

Worried that someone could still be inside, I head toward Nancy's apartment at the end of the hallway. I'm not surprised she probably didn't notice my door sitting open. She typically uses the exit on the other side of the building since it's right next to her own apartment while I use the one on the opposite side of the hallway.

"Nancy, it's Maci," I call and hold my fist up to the door.

I knock a few times, and as always, she calls me to come in. My body is trembling. I'm panicked and scared. I need to call the police, yet I feel like I'm overreacting because this doesn't seem real.

When I push the door open, Clyde immediately gets up and hurries toward me. I'm so thankful he wasn't home during the break-in though. I wonder what the culprits would have thought if they had kicked open the door and were met with a one-hundred-thirty-pound beast like him. Although he might look scary, I'm not sure he'd actually attack.

"Nancy," I barely squeak, "someone has been in my apartment. I'm worried they might still be in there." I pull my phone from my pocket. "I need to call the police to check."

"Oh my Lord," rushes from her mouth as she covers it with her hands. "Yes, sweetie, call the police."

Once I've dialed 911, it isn't seconds before they are on the other end. It seems like they ask me one hundred questions when all I want is for them to get here and see if someone is still in my apartment, touching my things. The thought of that makes my stomach churn.

"Ma'am, I'm going to keep you on the phone until help arrives, okay?" The lady speaks calmly.

"Okay," I say, nodding slowly. "Okay."

"What do you mean, her home was broken into?" I bark into the phone. "Fuck, is she … is she okay?"

"Yes, she's fine, and the police are there now. I'm just letting you know so that you can plan accordingly today. I'm not sure if she'll be up for watching Amelia or not. I imagine it was scary for her to find her home like that," Poppy says.

Right as I walked in the door and laid Amelia in her bed, Poppy called, dropping a bomb on me, saying she had gotten a vague message from Maci that her apartment had been broken into and vandalized.

After we just spent the past few days together and I felt like we had gotten close, Maci didn't even text me to let me know.

"Jesus Christ, I knew I should have fucking gone in!" I drag my hand through my hair, peeking in at Amelia as she sleeps soundly. She fell asleep forty-five minutes before we got back to Portland and is still sleeping. "Can you come over here and keep an eye on Amy? I want to go over there."

"Yeah, of course," Poppy answers. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

I pace around, hating myself for not just going in when I dropped her off. I would have, but Amelia was asleep, and I didn't want to leave her. Now, I wish I'd just woken her up.

I want to call her, but Poppy assured me she's fine, and I don't want to add to her stress. And I know she must be stressed out; this is a huge fucking deal. Instead of calling, I impatiently wait for Poppy to arrive so that I can go over and see for myself that she's all right.

When I arrive, the police are walking out of her apartment. One of them hands her a card and tells her to give him a call if she needs anything. Slowly, the three men walk toward the exit. She stands in the open doorway, spotting me immediately and giving me a confused look. Her face is paler than usual, and she looks a bit frazzled.

"Holy shit, that was Logan Sterns," one officer mutters to another one after they make it past me.

"I should ask him for his—" the other one starts to say.

The youngest-looking one of the three cuts him off, "No. Don't even say it, Bobby. Do not ask that man for his autograph. For all we know, he could be going to see the victim."

"Logan," she says, frowning. "What are you doing here? I'm not due at your place for a few hours."

Stopping in front of her, I lean against the doorframe just as she steps farther into the apartment. "I heard what happened. Just needed to make sure you're all right." I reach out, touching her arm with my fingertips. "Sorry that I didn't walk you in. I should have."

"Stop," she whispers, giving me a tiny smile as she shakes her head. "You had a sleeping child in the car. One who was extremely tuckered out from the insanely fun weekend we had."

It's like she can't be serious with me right now. It had to suck, getting her apartment broken into and shit. I look over her head and see the mess they left behind, and my heart physically hurts. This girl lost her dad a few years ago, and now, this?

"I could kill whatever scum of the earth did this," I growl lowly as I step around her and look around. "Where's Clyde?"

She gently closes the door behind me, folding her arms over her chest. "He's over at my neighbor's. I didn't want him here when the police came. Sometimes, men make him a tad nervous."

"He loves me. I'm a man," I point out.

"Eh, well, perhaps you aren't manly enough." She raises a brow, smirking, though I can tell by the look on her face that today has been exhausting for her.

"I'm the manliest," I say matter-of-factly. "Clyde knows a real man when he sees one. That's what's really up."

"Oh, okay. That's it, huh?" She shakes her head before she gazes around, and her face immediately falls.

Stepping toward her, I hold my arms out and wrap them around her frame. She's certainly not tall, but she also isn't overly thin. She's soft, and truthfully … that's sexy to me.

"What are you doing?" she mutters, her body stiffening beneath my hold.

I continue to hug her, pulling her body to my chest. "Just thought you could use a hug—that's all."

It takes a moment, but finally, she relaxes. "Thanks," she whispers. "I … I guess I sort of do. It's been a weird day. That's for sure."

"I want you to come stay with us for a while. I don't want you to be here alone, especially not until they figure out who did this." The words come out quickly, and I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing for her to tell me absolutely not.

The girl would rather wake up at five in the morning and drive to my place than just spend the night in my guest room. She's independent, and I like that. In fact, I find it charming. But right now, she doesn't have a choice. She's coming to stay with me until the police figure out who did this.

My words drive a wedge between us, and suddenly, she's stepping backward from my hold.

She looks up at me, her eyes harder than usual. "Uh, no, Logan. That's … it's really okay. I'm not worried. The police said it was likely an isolated thing. They got what they wanted and probably won't hit the same place twice."

"What if they do?" I snap, unable to help myself.

The thought of Maci in this apartment, alone, after this happened is stressing me the fuck out. And if I'm being honest with myself, I don't think it's just because she's my kid's nanny. But because maybe, just maybe, I've grown pretty damn fond of her.

"And what did they take? What if they couldn't carry everything they wanted and plan to come back?" I continue to rattle off what-ifs to her, knowing it isn't right. This is her decision to make, but my fucking God, I just wish she'd make the decision that wouldn't make me go completely insane.

"I just … I don't know. I have a lot of writing to get done. At your place, I won't be able to. It's not like I have an actual writing area." She frowns. "Then again, I guess I don't really have one here either. You know, now that they took most of my shit from it."

"Show me," I say quickly. "Show me your office."

She lets out a sad laugh before she turns and heads toward a small room just off the kitchen. There are papers and glass all over the floor from the lowlifes who broke in, but even through the wreckage, I can see that she had decorated this room just for her.

"I mean, it's not exactly perfect. It wasn't before they came here and ruined it. But I spent a lot of money to get this apartment. Living right in downtown Portland? It's not cheap." She shrugs. "I always thought the office was something I'd gradually pick away at until, eventually, it was perfect." She sighs. "I wasn't too far from that. Looks like I'll be starting over."

Reaching out, I do something completely unexpected. Not just for me, but it's clear she's caught off guard too. Because when I cup her cheek softly and force her to look at me, I swear I feel like a thousand electric sensations hit me at once.

"If you won't stay with us, we'll have to come stay with you." I look around. "And let's face it; Clyde likes my yard better than yours."

"I don't have a—" She stops before the last word comes out and rolls her eyes. "I suppose you have a point." Her eyes crinkle at the sides as her eyebrows pull together. "Besides, I'd never let Amy stay here after what happened while we were away. I would never risk her being here if there were a chance it could happen again."

"But you'd risk yourself?" I utter, looking down at her, my hand still cupping her cheek. It's probably making her feel awkward, and it's likely inappropriate behavior, but I don't care for some reason.

I mean, it's not like I'm kissing her or something. I'm just … comforting her.

"Get your things packed, Boston. You're coming to stay with me."

Her eyes widen, and her brows rise. "Um, why don't you try that again, Mr. Sterns? Perhaps less … I'm a douchebag who gets everything I want all the time ."

Dropping my hand, I tilt my head forward the slightest bit. "Please, Maci, would you be so kind as to come stay with Amelia and me? That way, I can go to sleep without wondering if you're being locked away in a closet or held at gunpoint."

With the last part of my words, she rolls her eyes. "You have, like, zero grace with your execution."

She looks around, pulling in a deep breath. She examines the room slowly, looking more defeated as her eyes roam each square foot.

"Fine," she finally huffs out. "I'll do it. I'll stay with you." She points her finger at me. "But just until they find the assholes who did this." She throws her head back. "I'm mostly pissed off about the computer. That was a brand-new baby-blue Mac desktop."

"Are they expensive?" I ask because I'm the least techy person on the planet. My publicist takes care of anything I might need on the computer.

"They aren't cheap," she utters. "And trust me when I tell you that I'm very, very frugal. So, I didn't even purchase that until I hit a milestone in publishing. I typed most of my books on my laptop, but it was starting to kill my neck, so I knew I needed something more … ergonomically geared. Now, I only use my laptop when I'm at your place and Amy is napping."

"And when we take a trip and you catch me in the shower, stroking my—"

She puts a hand over my lips and glares up at me. She's so close that I can smell that sweet coconut scent and get a good look at those plump lips. My cock stirs slightly out of absolutely nowhere.

"Don't even say it, Sterns," she warns me. "I did not write about you doing … that. I had other parts of the story to work on. Don't flatter yourself." She pulls her hand back. "But, yes, my point is, I don't love typing on my laptop. So, of all the things I wish the culprits had left, my computer is one of them."

I know right then that on my way home from practice tomorrow, I'm going to stop and get her an entirely new office setup. I have a spare room with a huge window, looking out at the bay. It will be perfect for her. Besides, in New Hampshire, she told me she wasn't leaving after six weeks, so she'll need an office. And I'm hoping that staying with us now will make her realize that she should have been staying with us all along.

For selfish reasons … I want this girl around more.

She unexpectedly pushes a hand into her hair, her eyes growing wide. "Oh my God. I forgot to check my—" She rushes off, heading for another room.

My legs follow behind her, and when I walk into her bedroom, she's staring down at a small box, her shoulders sagging as tears fill her eyes.

"My dad's watch," she barely whispers. "They took it. It's … gone."

Taking a few strides toward her, I pull her into my chest and hold her tightly. She cries against me. Up until this moment, she was so strong about the entire thing. Too strong really. But that watch, it must have meant a whole lot to her because, right now, she's falling apart.

"I'm sorry, Maci," I mutter. "I'll find whoever did this. I fucking promise you that."

She clings to me tighter, wrapping her arms around my waist. "God, I hate people." She sniffles. "They suck."

We stand like this for a few minutes, and when she slowly releases me, looking up through her tear-soaked lashes, I can't deny that a part of me—a big part—wants to kiss her. My eyes move to her lips, but within seconds, she catches me and averts her eyes to the floor.

Stepping back, she swallows. "I'd better gather my things and go get Clyde."

When she walks past me, brushing her shoulder against my side unintentionally, I exhale. I can't stop this pull toward her, but it's clear she doesn't feel the same way.