Chapter 12
“E xplain to me again how you wined, dined, and then kissed Abbie last night, all while omitting that today’s your birthday. You thought that was a brilliant idea?” Alex seems to make it his mission to push me to my limits.
“You know damn well how little I care about today. It honestly never even crossed my mind, and I sure as shit didn’t plan on her finding out through your smart-ass remarks. Also, it’s Abigail, not fucking Abbie. That nickname is too common for her.”
“Your list of things to make up for just keeps getting longer. Maybe she’ll take me up on my offer to run away with me after all.”
I toss the rugby ball on my desk at him and smirk as he curses when it hits him. “Keep your playboy act for someone who buys it. We’ve got bigger issues right now. How’s the Daniels deal coming along?”
“It’s looking greener than before. Smithy’s cousin has agreed to set up a meeting for next week, so with any luck, we could get the first shipment over to Belfast within the month.”
Trying to facilitate a regular shipment of our specialty ghost guns to Belfast has been a headache, but if we can convince Jo Smith, Smithy’s cousin who manages a fleet of under-the-radar ferries, to put our shipment on one of them, then we might be able to get this show on the road.
The sooner we can get this deal set up, the sooner we can establish a new stream of income to replace the money my father brought in from the auctions. The sooner we can show the Old Guard and everyone else that we don’t need to engage in unethical activities to make bank, the better.
It makes me sick how many of the men here have voiced concerns over a decrease in payouts and seemingly don’t care about the sources of those payouts. It might be too late to change everyone’s way of thinking, but the sooner we find out one way or another what we’re working with here, the sooner I can do some kneecapping and get rid of the dead weight.
With that debrief done, Alex turns his attention to his laptop and pops in his earphones. Sharing an office space with someone who needs constant stimulation and noise, while I prefer silence, could be a recipe for disaster, but we’ve been doing this long enough to have a system that works. So, as Alex blares music loud enough to damage his eardrums, I let silence envelop me as I lose myself in the never-ending to-do list.
“That’s enough of this shit for one day,” Alex groans as he stands and cracks his back before coming over to my desk and closing my laptop, nearly slamming it on my fingers.
“What if I was in the middle of something important?”
“Are you forgetting I can see your screen in the window reflection behind you? You’ve been playing Candy Crush and hitting ignore on the last five calls. I think you called it a day at least an hour ago.”
“There’s only so much email and admin stuff you can be motivated to handle in a day.”
“Hey man, you’re preaching to the choir. Now, let’s go find Abigail and see what Kelly has whipped up for us.” The emphasis he puts on Abigail’s name makes me roll my eyes.
“You’re getting spoiled rotten living here. Do you even remember how to cook?” I quirk an eyebrow as I grab my phone and stand, stretching. Damn, sitting in an office chair all day is worse for my back than being in active combat for ten hours a day.
“Of course. I can whip up a mean scrambled egg on toast. And you know as well as I do just how protective Kelly is of her kitchen.”
“Fair enough. Remember when Smithy went in and helped himself to some of her cookies?”
“How could I forget? She whipped him so hard with her tea towel he had marks on his arm for weeks.” With a snort, he shakes his head and leads the way down the two flights of stairs. As we approach the ground floor, the chatter grows louder. Puzzled by the noise and wondering if Abigail has made friends already, I follow the sound, only to freeze at the sight of the black and gold balloon arch leading out to the garden.
“Is this your doing?” I turn to Alex. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried to throw me a surprise birthday party. He’s made it his mission to rid me of what he calls ‘childhood trauma’—much to my disdain.
“Nope, but hats off to whoever is behind this.” He claps me on the shoulder before pushing me through the balloon arch to a chorus of happy birthdays. Looking past all the different Clan members milling about, either in groups or with their significant others clutched close to their side, I spot her.
Red hair blowing in the gentle breeze, red lips tipped up in a nervous smile that I’m dying to kiss again, a black dress hugging her every curve as she stands at the back of the crowd. I stalk towards her, ignoring everyone as they part like the Red Sea to let me pass, and as soon as I’m close enough, I grab her face and do what I’ve been dying to do all day.
With a shocked gasp, she wraps her arms around my neck, gently tugging at my hair as she kisses me back with as much want and need that I’m pouring into the kiss. I don’t give a damn who’s here to witness me claim my wife. The more people the better, in fact. She’s mine and I want everyone to know it.
With a groan, I pull back, nipping her bottom lip as I retreat, and smirk at the dazed expression on her face as she blinks open her lust-glazed eyes. Slowly the rest of the world comes back into focus and the cheers from the men gathered have me pulling her close to my side, pressing a kiss on the crown of her head and facing the crowd as one.
“Thank you all for coming, I’m sure Logan appreciates it. Just as I’m sure you’re all dying to try Kelly’s delicious cooking, so feel free to tuck in,” Abigail says with a smile. As the attention on us dies down a bit, she turns her focus back to me and says, “Tah-dah.”
“How the hell did you pull this off?”
“With a lot of help from Kelly, Cole, and Smithy. And even then, I wasn’t sure if it would all come together in time, but I wanted to at least try and do something for you. Everyone deserves to have happy birthday memories, Logan. And you’re never too old to start making them.”
Pulling her in close, I press a kiss to the top of her head before ducking down and sealing my mouth to hers once again in a greedy kiss. I kiss her like there’s no tomorrow, savouring her taste, her moans, the feel of her pressed close to me. I could do this all night if she would let me, and I’m half tempted to take her away from this crowd so we can be alone, if only for a moment.
Until someone interrupts us by clearing their throat and I reluctantly pull away.
“Happy birthday, son. I’m glad to see you have found some happiness this year. It’s about damn time,” Peter says, pulling me into a hug before hugging Abigail too.
After that, we make the rounds, small talk and handshakes are shared around the garden. Everyone gushes about Abigail and how much of a godsend she was in planning this so last minute and with every compliment paid her way, my chest burns with pride.
Having all these people warm up to her so quickly is a feat within itself. Half of them don’t even like me and I grew up here. But having them all praise her? I never could have seen that coming but man, I am not mad about it in the slightest. I’m so proud of her, I could burst.
After a while, I manage to get her alone again. Pulling her to the side as we survey the party, I say, “You did an amazing job, you know that right?”
“Hmm?” she asks, looking up at me with a light shining in her eyes.
“Planning a party like this on short notice, winning everyone over so quickly. Hell, getting a cake the day of a party. What’s your secret?” I tease her, pulling her into me.
“Well, the cake part was actually the easiest. I made it myself.” At the look on my face, she tips her head back laughing. Her laugh is like a balm to my soul. Her lightness bleeds into my darkness and already I can sense the change she is going to make to this place. To me. I can't wait to see it but for now, I dip my head and claim my wife’s mouth as my own again. Happy birthday indeed. Twenty-six never tasted so sweet.