His Nanny Mate - Season 4 Episode 66

Ella

The carousel slowed to a gentle stop, its enchanting melody fading away into the night air, replaced by the laughter and chatter of families and couples around us. I stepped off the platform, feeling like I had just traveled back in time to a simpler era of my life-one that I often yearned for, even now as an adult.

Logan, his face glowing in the wash of colorful lights from the ride, looked like a man who had just conquered a personal demon, albeit one dressed up in the innocent colors and nostalgic sounds of a carnival game.

“Well?” I asked, my eyes searching his for a trace of the boy who never got to ride a carousel. “How did you enjoy your first carousel ride, Mr. Barrett?”

His grin was my answer, wide and genuine, a snapshot of pure joy that I wished I could freeze in time.

“I know it’s silly, but thank you for doing that with me,” he quipped, his voice tinged with an emotion I couldn’t quite place-perhaps

nostalgia, or maybe relief.

I shrugged, thumbing the brass ring that felt cool between my fingers. “It was fun,” I murmured. “Thanks for dragging me along.”

Logan smiled-not a smirk, but a real, gentle smile-and averted his gaze to the sidewalk beneath our feet as we walked away from the carousel.

“You enjoyed that,” my wolf suddenly said, her voice echoing in the back of my mind.

At her words, I felt my cheeks turn an even brighter shade of red. “No.”

“Yes.”

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“Maybe.”

My wolf fell silent after that, but I could feel her still there in the back of my head, prodding me smugly. I hated to admit it, but yes, I enjoyed it. I never thought I would say that I would be riding a carousel with the son of a mobster and enjoy it, but here I was, holding the brass ring he gave me like it was a lifeline.

Just as I was about to suggest that we leave to get dinner, my stomach growled, echoing into the quiet atmosphere between us. Logan chuckled, shooting me a sideways glance.

“Sounds like someone’s hungry.”

“Yeah,” I admitted, glancing over at him. “You?”

Before he could respond, a gentle breeze passed through the theme park. A sweet, heavenly aroma wafted through the air then, captivating my senses. The scent of fried dough, sugary and irresistible, beckoned to me like a siren’s call.

“Wait. I have an idea,” I said, my eyes lighting up.

Without a second thought, I seized Logan’s hand, feeling the warmth of his grip as I led him through the maze of carnival games and food stands. We reached the vendor, a charming booth adorned with strings of bulbs that illuminated the sign: “Fried Dough Heaven.”

And indeed it was heaven. The scent of the fried dough, sugary, warm, and sweet, was overwhelming, reminding me of younger days.

I ordered for us, passing the vendor a few bills as he handed over a tray of fried dough, generously coated with powdered sugar and dappled with a few bright red strawberries. My mouth watered at the sight, and from Logan’s eager expression, I could tell he felt the same way.

“You ever have this before?” I asked as we made our way over to a quiet spot to stand and eat.

Logan shook his head. “Nope. It looks like a heart attack, though.”

I grinned. “That’s because it is. Here, try this,” I said, ripping off a piece and offering it to him.

He bit into it without taking it from my hand, his eyes closing momentarily as if savoring a long- lost memory. “Mm… It is a heart attack. But worth it.”

“I told you,” I beamed, taking my own bite. The dough was soft and fluffy, sweet but not overwhelmingly so. The powdered sugar clung to my fingers, leaving a sticky residue that didn’t bother me one bit.

We stood there, side by side, lost in the simple joy of fried dough and each other’s company. Neither of us spoke as we ate, but we didn’t need to. All around us, children laughed, lovers strolled, and games buzzed, but all those sounds seemed to blur into a white noise that left just the two of us, in our own sugary cocoon of happiness.

We laughed like little kids, our powdered sugar- streaked faces mirror images of pure joy. At one point, a blob of the sticky dough ended up on my nose, and Logan chuckled.

“You’ve got a little something,” he said, gesturing at his own nose.

Blushing, I wiped my nose clean with my thumb and wiped it on my napkin, but smirked as I met Logan’s gaze again and saw as he took another bite and found himself in the exact same predicament.

“What?” he said, noticing my gaze. “Something on my face, too?”

I nodded, gesturing to my cheek. “Right there.”

Logan sighed and wiped his cheek, but the wrong one. I couldn’t help myself. I chuckled, reaching out to get it for him.

My thumb grazed Logan’s skin, brushing away the powdered sugar, and the touch was electric. His face was inches from mine, eyes locked onto my gaze as though seeking permission, or perhaps offering an unspoken apology for an action that he hadn’t taken yet, but was absolutely considering.

“Logan,” I whispered, his name tumbling from my lips, sweeter than the powdered sugar. It was all I managed to say before he seized the moment-and my wrist.

His grip was firm, secure, as he pulled me close, erasing the short distance that separated us. His lips met mine, a contact as electrifying as it was unexpected. A shiver spiraled down my spine, adrenaline and confusion battling for dominance in my head.

My wolf’s presence strengthened, urging me to deepen the kiss even further, and for a moment, I did.

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And when we finally pulled away, his lips were as sticky as mine, tainted with the lingering sweetness of our shared guilt.

My face flushed a deep shade of crimson, a myriad of mixed emotions flashing through my mind. Anger? Embarrassment? A tinge of excitement I was too flustered to acknowledge?

“Logan,” I stammered, suddenly feeling as though I might drop the tray of fried dough in my hand. “Why… Why did you…”

“I’m sorry, Ella,” Logan interrupted, his voice tinged with genuine remorse. “I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”

I looked away, my eyes focusing on a distant carnival game, at a group of laughing children nearby, at a food vendor-anywhere but at him. The sharp edge of his jaw, the vulnerable dip in his lower lip-each feature seemed like a trap, pulling me back into a moment that was as confusing as it was intense.

“Let’s just pretend that never happened,” I finally said, my voice carrying a harsh edge that I hadn’t intended, and which made my wolf squirm inside my head. “Don’t do it again.”

For a few moments longer we stood there in an awkward silence that seemed to blot out the other sounds of the bustling theme park. The sun had dipped below the horizon now, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch the silence even further.

“It’s getting late.” Logan finally spoke up, his voice softer than before, as though wary of shattering the delicate truce that hung in the air between us. “We should head back to the hotel soon.”

I nodded, tossing the remnants of the fried dough into a nearby trash can. “Yeah,” I murmured, avoiding his gaze. “We should.”

“But…” He paused, his eyes drifting upwards, locking onto a towering structure silhouetted against the darkening sky. “Before we go, there’s one more ride I want to try. If you’ll come with me.”

He pointed towards it-an enormous Ferris wheel, spinning lazily above the city as its lights twinkled on the edge of the dimming horizon.