The lake cabin was supposed to be perfect. Private. Secluded. Just you and Logan Hayes for three days to figure out this marriage of convenience you'd both agreed to.

Except "figuring it out" had turned into something else entirely.

"God, you feel incredible," Logan groaned, his large hands gripping your hips as you moved against him in the hot tub. Water sloshed over the edges, steam rising around your bodies in the cool evening air.

Your fingers tangled in his dark hair, tugging hard enough to make him hiss. "Logan—I'm close—"

His phone rang.

"Ignore it," you gasped, rolling your hips in that way that made his eyes roll back.

It rang again. And again.

"Fuck." Logan's jaw clenched, but he didn't stop moving, didn't stop the delicious friction building between you. "They'll leave a message."

But the ringing continued, insistent and destroying the moment.

Logan cursed viciously, lifting you off him despite your protest. He stood, water cascading down his muscled body, his cock still hard and ready, evidence of just how close you'd both been.

He grabbed his phone with a dripping hand. "This better be important."

You sank deeper into the water, trying not to stare at how fucking gorgeous he looked—all six-foot-three of frustrated alpha male, still clearly aroused and absolutely furious about the interruption.

His expression darkened as he listened. "What do you mean she's—Jesus Christ." He ran his free hand through his wet hair. "I'll be there in twenty. Tell her to calm her ass down before I—" He stopped, glancing at you. "Just keep the kids inside. Away from her."

Your stomach dropped. His kids.

Logan ended the call and immediately started grabbing clothes. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I need to run."

"What?" You watched him yank on jeans over wet skin, not even bothering to dry off. "Logan, what's going on?"

"It's Amber." His voice was pure ice. "She heard we got married, and she's at the ranch causing a scene. The kids are terrified."

Amber. His nightmare of an ex-wife. The woman who'd abandoned five-year-old Emma and three-year-old Jack two years ago, only to randomly reappear and traumatize them further every few months.

The woman who was part of the reason Logan had agreed to this marriage—he needed a stable home environment for custody purposes.

"Okay." You pulled yourself out of the hot tub, water streaming down your body. "Hand me my clothes. I'll pack up our stuff, and—"

"No." Logan's hands caught your waist, stopping you. His eyes—usually cold and controlled—showed something raw. Vulnerable. "I'll go. There's no reason you can't enjoy the cabin. I'll be back tomorrow to pick you up."

"Logan, those are my stepchildren now—"

"Technically." His thumb brushed your cheekbone, and you hated how much you leaned into the touch. This was supposed to be business. Convenient. Not... this. "We're not even really together. This marriage is just paperwork."

Paperwork that had led to you almost coming apart on his cock five minutes ago, but sure.

"They're scared," he continued. "And Amber's unpredictable when she's like this. I need to handle her, make sure Emma and Jack are okay. You didn't sign up for this drama."

"I signed a marriage certificate. That means I signed up for all of it."

Something flickered in his expression—surprise? Hope? But he shook his head. "Stay. Relax. This is supposed to be your honeymoon."

"Our honeymoon."

"In name only." He pulled on his shirt, still damp, muscles flexing. "We agreed, remember? One year of marriage for my custody case. Then we reassess."

Right. The agreement. Marriage of convenience to prove Logan could provide a stable two-parent home. Nothing real. Nothing permanent.

So why did watching him leave feel like your chest was caving in?

"Be careful," you whispered.

Logan paused at the door, jaw tight. "I'll call when I get there. And sweetheart?" His eyes darkened. "When I get back, we're finishing what we started"