"What do you an?"
"I an..." Logan looked directly at Jean. "Kiss ."
She recoiled a bit. "What?"
"You take the lead," he said softly, not moving toward her. "I won’t touch you. Not unless you want to. But I need you to kiss ."
Jean’s chest rose with a shallow breath. Her stomach twisted... not with disgust, but dread. The kind she always felt when a man got too close.
Kissing.
Even the idea of it made her tense. She had never kissed anyone for real. Never wanted to. She hated the thought of a man’s mouth invading her space.
But Logan was... different.
He touched her sotis. Briefly. Lightly. And though her body jolted at first, she hadn’t felt fear. Not the kind that paralyzed her.
She studied his face. He was serious. Not teasing. Not pushing. Waiting.
"I don’t know how," she whispered.
"You don’t need to," he replied gently. "Just... show them you’re mine. One mont. That’s all."
Jean’s fingers trembled at her sides before she raised them... slowly... and placed them on his cheeks. His skin was warm beneath her hands. His stubble grazed her palms. Logan’s eyes searched hers, and for a second he saw confusion... no, weariness mirrored in her gaze. Like she hadn’t expected this from him, not like this.
Then... before she lost her nerve... Jean tiptoed and pressed her lips to his.
It wasn’t a kiss ant to impress. It wasn’t seductive or smooth. It was barely more than a peck.
But it was real.
When she pulled back, her heart thumped in her chest like it had forgotten its rhythm. Her lips tingle, not from passion, but from unfamiliarity. She didn’t dare wipe them... because she already knew.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of movent.
Hannah. Watching.
Jean swallowed. Her heart raced again... not from the kiss but from being seen. She didn’t know what to do, so she leaned forward... and tucked herself against Logan’s chest.
He froze for a beat, then wrapped an arm loosely around her.
To anyone watching, it was sweet. Intimate.
Logan smiled to himself. She was acting the part well. Maybe even enjoying it.
Until...
He felt it.
Her lips moving against his shirt. Rubbing.
Then her fingers subtly brushed the fabric over his chest. Not affectionately.
Purposefully.
Logan looked down just in ti to see her dragging the edge of her lips against his shirt, clearly wiping her lipstick off.
His jaw slackened. "Wait... are you..."
Jean stepped back with a poker face. "It smudged."
"You wiped your lipstick on my shirt?" he asked, bewildered.
"I panicked."
Logan blinked. Then suddenly let out a laugh. A real one this ti.
"You’re unbelievable."
But she just crossed her arms and muttered, "And now we’re even."
He raised an eyebrow. "Even for what?"
She didn’t answer. She just walked ahead toward the house again, ignoring the fact that his white shirt now had a rose colored sar right over his heart.
Logan glanced down at the mark and shook his head.
Even when she gave in, she found a way to push him back.
And damn it, he didn’t know why that made his chest ache a little.
____________________________
The sun had already started to dip beneath the horizon, casting the sky in hues of peach and gold when Martha stepped out to the front porch, wiping her hands on a towel.
"Are you two sure you don’t want to stay another night?" she asked hopefully. "You both look... comfortable."
Jean gave a polite smile, Logan just tucked his keys into his pocket.
"Thanks, Mom," Logan said, "but we have to head back. There’s work tomorrow."
Martha nodded, though disappointnt shadowed her eyes. Jared stood a few feet behind, arms folded as he watched them with unreadable calm.
Jean had already packed her overnight bag and now stood near the car, her gaze low, her lips tight. She didn’t speak much... not since the kiss.
Not even when Hannah asked a million questions about how Logan kissed, how his cologne slled, and whether Jean liked cuddling with him.
She had answered everything with silence.
Logan opened the passenger door for her, a quiet gesture. He didn’t look at her differently. He didn’t tease her or smirk like she expected. That unsettled her even more.
Once they were both in the car and the estate faded into the distance, Jean finally broke the silence.
"I didn’t an to wipe my lipstick on your shirt," she murmured, still looking out the window.
Logan glanced at her. "You panicked. I get it."
"No... I did it on purpose," she corrected. "But not to humiliate you."
That surprised him.
He stayed quiet.
"I just... I don’t like how it felt." Her voice was soft, almost apologetic. "But I didn’t hate it either. And that... that’s more terrifying."
Logan gripped the wheel tighter. "You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel, Jean. I won’t touch you unless you let . But the contract... this marriage... only works if we trust each other."
Jean looked at him now. His jaw was set. His eyes on the road. But there was a vulnerability in his tone she hadn’t heard before.
"I’m trying," she whispered.
"I know."
The silence returned, but it wasn’t cold. It was awkward, yes. Tense, yes. But sowhere in it... was the echo of a kiss that changed sothing.
Even if neither of them knew exactly what.
The hum of the engine filled the silence, the rhythmic turn of the tires against the road soothing but not enough to quiet Jean’s thoughts.
She shifted in her seat, arms folded, eyes still trained on the passing scenery outside.
"When I proposed this contract marriage..." she began, her voice quiet but steady, "I didn’t think anyone else would be involved. I thought it would stay between us. Just... you and , pretending."
Logan glanced at her briefly but didn’t interrupt.
"I didn’t expect your mother to fuss over . Or your father to give that proud look like I actually belong. Even Hannah... she looked at like I’m so older sister she’s always wanted."
Jean laughed faintly, though there was no humor in it. "I don’t feel guilty about a lot of things, Logan. But lying to your family? That... made feel sick."
Logan’s jaw tightened, but he stayed silent, giving her space.
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