12

Okay, so maybe someone Up There wasn’t on his side after all.

Logan opened the door to the ice cream parlor for Angel, leaning back to keep from touching any part of her or that bag.

She’d picked out red lingerie.

He’d actually given the saleswoman carte blanche— and his credit card—to outfit his son’s new babysitter, and, between the two of them, a woman who was sup-posed to know fashion and another who had as many degrees as he did, they’d come up with red lingerie. It’d be ironically funny if Michael weren’t involved.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe he should have just given her the money, bought her a one-way bus ticket, and told Michael she’d had to go home. He wouldn’t have to worry about what she wore, what her favorite flavor was, how her hair felt on his skin… nor what it’d be like to kiss her.

Then Michael grabbed Angel’s hand and tugged her forward, his smile almost bigger than he was, and Logan knew he wasn’t going to ask her to leave. He couldn’t break Mich