“Not sure how easily that’s going to go over.” Logan’s big hand runs through his sandy-brown hair and tugs.
Damn. That should absolutely not be sexy.
“We’re only an hour outside of Philly,” he continues. “If we were so in love that we had to elope in Vegas, I’m pretty sure they’d expect us to be living together. Jasper isn’t stupid, and neither is Pops. But Waves might be so caught up in the romance of it all that she buys it.”
“And how many nights a week are you proposing I spend at your place?” I seriously can’t believe I’m doing this.
“Five or six?” he asks more than answers.
“Five. Maximum. I’m not doing six.” I silence my phone as it vibrates on the table, ignoring my mother. I’m so going to pay for that later. “Any chance you have an extra bedroom?”
Rafe laughs. “Not one you can sleep in if you expect anyone to buy you two being married. If you’re not fucking like bunnies, it’s going to be all kinds of suspicious.”
“Seriously?” I nail him with a glacial glare. “Like bunnies?”
“Welcome to the family, little sister,” Rafe smiles.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Logan
“You doing okay back there, Rafe?” The dick grunts as the streets speed by. Because of course, Olivia St. James drives a brand-new Aston Martin convertible. Surprisingly, there’s a back seat. A small one, but Rafe fits back there.Barely.
“Liv, for the love of God. We’re twenty minutes out from the ranch. Hurry the fuck up. I’m losing the feeling in my legs,” he bitches, and like the dick I am, I fucking smile.
We swung by her place to drop off Serena and for Liv to pack a bag or four as I got antsy as hell. I just want to get home. Even if it is to an impending shit show. I hate being away from Maggie. It was bad enough last season, but then, I had no choice. I’ve spent nearly all the offseason with my baby girl, who’s already growing so fast. And I’m ready to be back with her.
“When are you going to tell Magnolia’s mom?” Olivia asks as we pull to a stop at the one and only light just outside of town. She glances my way before checking the mirror and shaking her head at whatever she sees Rafe doing back there.
“Monica,” I answer, disgusted.
“What?”
“Magnolia’s mother’s name is Monica.” I try to say it with some respect because she gave me Maggie, but seriously, this woman has tested every fucking limit I have, and she’s lost every time, only to keep coming back for more.
“Okay, when are you going to talk to Monica about this thing.” Olivia dances around the word marriage in a very un-Olivia-like way.
“About our marriage?” I ask, dragging out the word. It still feels fake as fuck, probably because it is. But this is what it’s going to take to keep Maggie, so I’m going to have to accept it’s what I’m doing. “That depends.”
“On what?” she asks as the light changes, and her navigation system tells her to make a left in a very masculine, very Australian voice.
“On what I need to tell her and if I can just let the lawyers handle it or if I actually have to speak to her myself. I tend to avoid her when I can,” I admit.
“Like the fucking plague or a case of the crabs,” Rafe adds, and I swear some days I want to kill him. “She’s a bitch who’s barely made time for Maggie. She doesn’t deserve her. And she can’t fucking have her. Make it so, Liv.”
Olivia looks back at Rafe again, her spine straightening like Rafe just threw down his gloves on the ice in a challenge she’s ready to accept. “She’s never gone up against me before, Rafe. I’ll make her regret every breath she takes in Logan’s direction if I can.”
“Not mine. Don’t worry about me. Just keep her away from Maggie,” I tell her, ready to beg, hell, to plead. I’d do anything if it meant keeping my girl. “I don’t trust her, Olive.”
“You don’t trust anyone, dickhead,” Rafe calls out as the warm summer wind whips around us.
“He’s not wrong.” Not sure what that says about me, other than I learned a long fucking time ago the less people you trust, the less people can disappoint you.
She pulls to a stop in front of the black-iron gate of the Triple Crown Ranch and turns to me, unimpressed. “Listen, Logan. You don’t have to like me. I’d be lying if I said I liked you. But you are going to have to trust me for this to work. Can you do that?”
“Come on, man,” Rafe bitches from the back seat. “I’m folded like a fucking pretzel back here. Fuck or fight or do whatever the hell you need to do to get me out of this car.”
“Logan . . .” Olivia pushes.
