Chapter 11
W aking up with the phantom feeling of Logan’s tattooed hand around my throat and embarrassingly wet panties wasn’t something I expected to happen, yet, after the searing kiss that left me biting my tongue against asking for him to come into my room, it really shouldn’t come as a surprise.
Rinsing my dirty thoughts away in the shower leaves me with the equally embarrassing thoughts of what is awaiting me downstairs. Is Logan going to bring up the kiss, or should I?
Nope. I need to remember who I am and slow the fuck down before I wind up hurt, all because of my careless actions.
I pick out my best ‘no fucks given’ outfit. Men might use weapons as their armour, but I’m a firm believer that picking out the perfect outfit and wielding it just so can be as effective as a steal chest plate.
In this case, a pair of leather trousers that look painted on paired with red bottom stilettos and a white corset top that acts as a free boob job is the perfect combination. Couple that with winged eyeliner so sharp it's an art and I’m ready to face the day.
Satisfied with my choices, I make my way down to face the music. I let out a breath and feel my muscles relax a tad when I see Alex sitting to Logan’s right. His joker personality is just what the doctor ordered to cut through the tension I can already sense brewing as Logan takes me in from head to my sparkly blue toenails peeking out from my open toe shoes.
As I take a seat to Logan's left, I feel my cheeks warm under his intense gaze while I prepare my plate with a bit of everything. I make a mental note to explore the kitchen later and meet the chef behind these delicious spreads. If I'm going to be living here, getting to know the staff seems crucial to making life much easier. Maybe I can persuade the chef to let me have free reign of their kitchen in exchange for some baked goods.
Alex, glancing between us with raised eyebrows and a smirk that promises a world of teasing, breaks the silence. "What did I miss last night? Anything you care to share with the class?"
"Fuck off," Logan grumbles, tearing his gaze from me. Grateful for the reprieve, I take a deep breath before painting a smile on my face and throwing my own teasing remark into the mix. "Oh, wouldn't you like to know... Maybe next time you'll have to come along and see for yourself."
"Don’t tempt me, beauty. I think our friend here would have something to say about it."
"Oh, that grump? Never mind him, we can leave him at the restaurant to pay the bill and make our own fun."
"If you two are quite finished," Logan cuts in, his glare levelled at his friend as he grips his knife with white knuckles.
"Fine spoil sport. Some of the men have been wondering where their invite for tonight is."
"Tonight?" As far as I can recall, today's nothing special, unless there's a Scottish holiday or tradition I’ve forgotten about.
"Tell them it’s lost in the mail. Nothing’s happening tonight except me having dinner with my wife, and you, if you insist on being here," Logan grumbles, ignoring my question as he focuses his glare on Alex, who looks all too familiar with the look Logan is giving him.
"Logan, if you think I’m letting your birthday pass like it's nothing, think again.” Alex glares back, and my jaw drops. Birthday? And he didn’t tell me? Unexpectedly hurt by that omission, I frown at my plate, my appetite gone.
"Piss off, Alex, I’ll meet you in my office later," Logan dismisses him before turning to me. "Abigail, look at me."
"No." I’m sure my feelings are plain as day, and I really don’t want to give him that satisfaction.
With a clang, he sets his knife and fork down, gets up, and rounds the table to crouch in front of me. Twisting my chair so he can get closer, he grips my chin and tilts it up, forcing me to look at him.
"That’s better. You don’t need to hide from me. Ever. Why does it matter if it’s my birthday? It's just another day."
"It matters because you didn’t tell me. I asked you to tell me about yourself last night, and you brushed it off like there’s nothing to tell. And yet today’s your birthday, surely that counts as something?"
Letting out a sigh, he looks torn as he shifts his grip so he’s cupping the back of my neck. The comforting grip has me wanting to lean back into his touch, to close my eyes and bask in it. Even if only for a moment.
"I didn’t tell you because to me it is nothing. It’s always been nothing. The last birthday I celebrated, I was seven, and for a present, my father broke my jaw and threw me down to the cellar. Meanwhile, they had a party up here as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened."
My heart breaks for the Logan. He was just a kid. What kind of parent is so cruel to their child on their birthdays that they cause them to develop lifelong trauma around it? Evil ones who deserve to be murdered. That’s who. A dark, twisted part of me is glad Logan was the one to kill Angus and get his revenge. An even darker part wishes he had suffered more.
"Logan, it matters to me. I would have loved the chance to make it special, in a good way for you. To help you start creating happy memories in place of the bad ones. I know we don’t know each other yet, but it would have been nice," I explain, trying to make him see it from my point of view. And when he looks crestfallen as he scans my face, I think I might have succeeded.
"I’m sorry, I truly didn’t think of it like that," he says with a frown, wiping my errant tears away with the back of his knuckles. The way he so effortlessly and genuinely apologizes solidifies my decision to make today as special as I can for him.
"I guess there’s always next year, right? You may as well go on up and meet Alex; something tells me he’s mad as hell at you."
"You sure?" His frown says he doesn’t want to leave, but if I have any hope of pulling off a birthday party in a few short hours, I need him locked in his office out of the way.
"I’m sure," I say with a soft smile before shooing him out of the room with a gentle push to his chest. Watching him head up the stairs, I wait until I’m sure he won’t come back down before setting my plan in motion with a few well-placed text messages.
So far, Smithy has been a stoic, silent presence, but hopefully, roping him into my shenanigans will bring him out of his shell; otherwise, he’s going to struggle big time getting along with Cole’s larger-than-life personality. Not to mention the fact that once my year of having Cole here is up, it would be nice to have a guard with some personality.
“What’s the occasion?” Cole asks as I let them into the house and lead them towards the kitchen.
“It’s Logan’s birthday, which he failed to mention. Which means we have a surprise party to throw together and get the word out about it and not a lot of time to do it,” I explain as we head into the kitchen.
The kitchen is a spotless work of art that should be photographed for a home magazine. While the rest of the house might have been decorated with masculine influence, this was clearly done with a woman’s touch. Huge glass windows allow natural light to flood in and reflect off the marble counters and steel appliances. My baby pink KitchenAid stands out like a sore thumb amongst the otherwise very minimal and classy setup.
“Can I help you?” An older lady with a warm smile and grandmotherly energy asks as she comes through a swinging door, her arms full of ingredients and a dusting of flour on her cheeks. Cole rushes over to help her set everything down while Smithy stays hovering in the doorway.
“I’m hoping you can. I’m Abbie, Logan’s wife, and he just so happened to forget to mention his birthday to me,” I explain with an eye roll and watch as realization dawns on her.
“Oh, that poor boy. I’m Kelly, I’ve been here since before he was born. What can I do to help?” In that moment, I know we’re going to get along just fine. Anyone who can be so ready to jump and do everything they can for someone else is speaking my language.
“Any chance you can help us whip up enough food for a surprise birthday party? And how would you feel about letting me use your kitchen to bake a cake?”
With a sharp nod and a shared glance filled with knowing, one part of the plan is born. Kelly gets to work phoning for backup and crafting a menu while I give Cole and Smithy a list of things to get before tying an apron around my waist and getting started on the cake.
While I would love to have more time to plan this out, sometimes you just have to work with what you have. And what I’ve got is a wonderful chef willing to slave away in the kitchen all day, two bodyguards with a shopping list as long as their arms, and the power of word of mouth to let everyone know this is happening. And luckily, my baking supplies. Can’t exactly have a birthday party without a cake, after all.
The day passes in a blur of action, and before I know it, Smithy and Cole are taking the last of the dishes outside while Kelly and I finish loading up the dishwasher.
“Leave the cleanup to me, you just worry about getting ready for the party,” Kelly tuts with a fond smile, before trying to push me out of her kitchen.
“Thank you so much, Kelly. You’ve been an absolute godsend today. Please take tomorrow off or at least come in late, I’ll tell Logan,” I implore her before pulling her in for a hug.
“It was my pleasure; now you just focus on the birthday boy, and I’ll worry about me,” she replies with one last smile. I leave her and make quick work of showering the remains of flour and a hard day's work away. Pulling on a black cocktail dress with a slit up the thigh and some light makeup, I make my way downstairs and take in the miracle we pulled off.
The back garden has been transformed into the perfect outdoor party setup. The pool has been roped off to prevent any accidental falls when the drinks start flowing, and pillar tables are scattered around for people to set their drinks while they stand and chat.
Meanwhile, the food and drink tables are along the back with a cluster of seats scattered around since, in my opinion, eating while standing is not the vibe.
All of this is behind the black and gold balloon archway that leads out to the back, and I cannot wait to see Logan’s expression as he walks through the archway and takes in everything. At this point, there’s no going back, so I can only hope he doesn’t hate it.