“I’m sorry. What was that?” I ask, closing my eyes as the Kingston jet cruises somewhere over the middle of the country with at least another hour and a half before we get back to the private air strip outside of Kroydon Hills. “Did you say ranch?”
“Were you not paying attention, Olive?” My fucking husband taunts, and I wonder, not for the first time since waking up, if this wasn’t the biggest mistake of my life. Then I remember the near giddiness in Peter’s voice and imagine the crisp new business cards with the wordpartneron them in embossed font, and I suck it the fuck up.
“No, Logan,” I sneer, from behind my laptop. “I was too busy working to listen to what you three are laughing about over there.” Even if I’m grateful they’ve got Serena laughing.
“They’ve got cows, Livvy.” Serena relaxes into the leather seat as she scrolls through images on a phone. “Okay, well one cow and a few baby goats.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. If silent whining had a spokesperson, I think it might be me. “I thought your family trained racehorses. What’s with the farm animals?”
“What’s a matter, Olive?” Logan leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees from his spot on the couch. “You afraid a few little farm animals might just ruin those expensive shoes?”
“No,” I say too quickly. “I just want to make sure I’m getting this right.”
Rafe takes his phone back from Serena, smiling. I’m not sure this guy ever takes anything seriously. “We do train horses, but Waverly is a sucker for an animal in need.”
I side-eye Logan. “Waverly?”
“Our little sister. She’s in her final year of vet school. And she’s got a soft heart for animals. Especially ones that look like they belong in a Disney movie.” He pulls out his phone and opens a text thread. “This is Waves, Maggie, and Posey.”
Oh my.
Assuming Waves is his sister, Waverly, Logan’s sister sent him a picture of her holding his daughter on a cow that does in fact look like it belongs in a Disney movie. It’s a beautiful photo of a beautiful family and a pretty cute cow. Waverly’s red hair is hanging around her shoulders in a mass of curls. Her pale skin is in direct contrast to the warmer tone of Maggie’s skin and brown hair that’s tied up in two little pigtails on top of her head, held back with small white bows with little ladybugs in the center. Her chubby cheeks are smiling wide, and that dimple settles deep in her left one, just like her daddy.
Suddenly, fear grips me in a chokehold and holds tight to the reins.
I didn’t just marry the man. I married his family.
Fuck. If I were my client, I’d tell me to live with this man.
Become part of that family.
If I don’t, the court will see right through this charade, and not only would that fuck Logan’s ability to maintain custody of his daughter, it would also blow up in my face. My firm would never take me seriously again. My career would be ruined. I’d be a joke. And I’ve come too far and worked too hard to be anyone’s joke.
“She’s beautiful, Logan.” I hand him back his phone. “She looks like you.”
“Aww, don’t go getting soft on me now, Olive.” He pockets his phone and leans his head back against the plush leather behind us. “So tell me, Yoda, how are we doing this?”
“Yoda? Do I look small and green?” At some point, we may have to start being nicer to each other, but that point hasn’t come just yet.
“You are pretty small when you don’t have those heels on.” He tilts his head, and I feel that heated gaze as it skims over me from the tips of my currently bare feet up to the top of the hair piled on top of my head. “And hey, green eyes.”
I blow out a breath and try to grab hold of my raging thoughts.
This was such a bad ideais currently winning at the very top of them.
“This is going to be so much harder than I realized.” I close my laptop with a less than satisfying thunk and turn toward him. “Okay, I’m going to walk you through the plan, and I’ll try not to use big words.”
“Maybe try to remove that giant stick from your ass while you’re at it,” he throws back, and the memory of him calling mea bitchy ice queen in the press two years ago flashes hot and fast in my mind.
“Okay, first rule. Women don’t like to be called bitches.”
Logan nods a little too enthusiastically, his jaw clenching. “Men don’t like to be called stupid either, Olive. Pretty sure I can follow your big words.”
“If you two can’t be civil with each other, this is never going to work,” Serena chastises from across the aisle. “Maybe you should both, I don’t know... try being nice to each other.”
“There’s always divorce,” Rafe adds, and Logan groans.
“No.” The deep tenor of Logan’s voice leaves no room for argument. “I’ll never get to keep Maggie if I got married in Vegas and divorced the next fucking day. You say this could work, Olive. Now break it down. How do we make it work?”
