Logan watched Layla while she made dinner. Her phone went off every other second, and none of the messages brought a smile to her face. He finally got up from where he sat on the couch and asked, “Who’s texting?”
“My stupid sisters,” she grumbled, flipping her phone face down and stirring the browning ground beef on the stove with a little too much vigor.
“What did you send them this time?” He chuckled though he probably shouldn’t have. But he’d endured several tastings of very disgusting pumpkin pie, and well, maybe Layla deserved some of what she was getting from her sisters.
She spun toward him, wooden spoon brandished. “You can’t laugh at me if I tell you. And you can’t say I should’ve done something different.”
Logan grinned at her and wrapped his hands around her waist. “What was
