A mile or two down the road, Logan takes a turn in the opposite direction of home. “Are you hungry? I thought we could swing by a taco stand on the way back.”

“I never say no to tacos. It’s a personal principle of mine.”

He laughs, and I wonder if he suggested that because I told him Mexican food is my favorite.

“And I don’t come to this side of the mountain without swinging by the Gonzalez family’s taco stand. So it looks like our principles align.” He grins, and I feel that dimpled smile way down in my belly.

A laugh bubbles out of me, the kind of true, honest laugh that only comes around once in a great while.

But it’s immediately followed by a swift dose of reality. Because I just realized how much this whole day feels like a date, something I haven’t had in forever. But I know it can’t be, no matter what my heart wants.

Even if today was great, and his big family is everything I’ve ever wanted, and Logan’s blue eyes are completely dreamy, I know better than to let my silly fantasies turn into anything more than daydreams.

Maybe I should leave, fly out on the next plane and distance myself from the handsome Logan and all my confusing emotions. But walking away now is the last thing I’m prepared to do.

Somewhere along the way, Logan Tate and his family have taken up space in my heart. Impossibly and against all common sense, I’m feeling things for this man that I have no right to feel. Achingly hot when he levels me with those deep blue eyes. Haunted by all he’s been through. Desperate for the feel of his mouth on mine.

And I’m feeling almost none of the things I should be feeling. Professional and detached, or even unbiased. This is more than problematic. I’ve staked almost my entire professional reputation on this assignment, and yet here I am—in totally over my head.

When we reach the cute roadside attraction, which is just an old silver Airstream that’s been converted into a food truck, Logan orders for us while I take a seat at a nearby picnic table.

I pull a deep breath into my lungs and try to quiet my brain, glancing around.

White Christmas lights twinkle in the darkness, strung from the Airstream to a couple of large pine trees. The entire setup is adorable. They certainly don’t have quaint little places like this in the city. It feels like a well-kept secret—the kind of place where you have to know someone who knows someone.

Thankfully, I do.