Logan groaned and climbed into bed beside her, lifting her feet into his lap and beginning to massage gently.
"You better still come to the yacht party," he said. "Looking hot. Like betrayal in heels."
Jean laughed, resting her head on his shoulder. "Only if you survive my period week."
Logan kissed the top of her head and muttered, "Challenge accepted."
And just like that, they sat in a quiet morning tangle of tea, cramps, soft cotton, and unexpected comfort.
No contracts.
No performance.
Just warmth.
And maybe, just maybe…
The beginning of something real.
____________________________
The morning started like any other.
Almost.
Jean padded into the living room wearing one of Logan's old button-downs over cycling shorts, nursing her second cup of coffee and scrolling through emails when she heard a loud curse echo from the kitchen.
"You've got to be kidding me…"
Logan.
She blinked and walked in.
