“Has it been two months?” Waverly questions, and Logan drags a hand down his face.
“Focus—” Logan grunts.
“By my count.” Rafe grins and counts off on his fingers. “We’re at about six weeks. I mean, you could still be preg?—”
“I’m not pregnant,” I announce harshly to the table.
“Fucking focus,” Logan growls again. “What I was trying to say is that we appreciate the way you’ve all kept this quiet, but we’re not going to keep it quiet anymore.”
My head hurts from the way my husband stumbles through this announcement. “And this is why you need PR,” I tell him sweetly. “Basically, I’m going to the first game of the season.” I look over to Pops, who’s been watching the craziness unfold from across the room as he sips his second cup of coffee. “I’ll be wearing my rings.” The old man smiles and lifts his mug, and I’mpretty sure he’s silently sayingthat a girl. “And I’ll be wearing Logan’s jersey.”
“Sounds contrived,” Jasper grumbles.
“I think it sounds romantic,” Waverly sighs and elbows her brother.
“Fuck. I think it sounds sexy. You gonna have on pants, Livvy?” Rafe asks, and Logan growls. We’ve really got to work on that.
“If you want to keep your life, you won’t call my wife sexy, shithead.” But when he turns to me and his dimple pops, I might as well read his mind.
Got it.
Surprise this man one night in his jersey and nothing else.
“Is it gonna say St. James on the back or Adler?” Jasper’s brow lifts, daring me to answer.
Which I do with a genuine smile.
“Adler.”
OLIVIA
Pride is expensive.
Apologies are cheap.
Know the difference and know their worth.
—Olivia’s Secret Thoughts
“Hey.” Logan’s voice is low and so sexy as he tugs my hair, forcing my head back and dropping a kiss on my lips, not caring that I’m sitting outside, and any ranch worker or sibling, for that matter, could see us. He’s become far bolder with where he touches me and when. And I kind of love that.
For the first time in my life, I go with it. I don’t worry about who sees or what they think.
Not here. Not with him.
I close the top of my MacBook and smile at my husband, anxious for tonight even if I’m fighting exhaustion like I’ve neverfelt before. Ever. My periods seem to be getting heavier, and the aftereffects are getting worse.
“You look pale, Liv.”
“Such a sweet-talker, Logan.” I know he’s right, but that doesn’t mean I want to hear it.
He brushes his lips over my forehead and sighs. “Stop canceling your damn doctor appointments and get them to change your prescription. Seriously. It looks like a strong wind could knock you over right now.”
“Well then.” I grin, trying to ease his concern. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m sitting down.” I lift my chin, and he gathers my face in his hands and kisses me again. “Are you leaving for the game already?”
I offer up a silent prayer of thanks to the hockey gods for requiring their players to wear suits to the arena because this man in a suit is a sight to be seen. Today’s is jet black with a matching dress shirt. He’s opted for no tie and left the top two buttons open, and the urge I have to press my lips right there is so damn strong.
I know women like to go to theboy aquariumto see the players in their uniforms, but my goodness, I like mine just like this.
