29. Maeve
29
maeve
“Do you think you’d be able to design something like that?”
I have to blink a few times, because I’m not sure this is real life. Because how is it that Hunter McAvoy, the head coach of the Nashville Fury—a football team I’ve watched my entire life because of my father and brother—is wanting to hire me to decorate and help design a new surprise office and wing of the house he’s building for his wife.
“Think? I know I can. And I’d be honored to do so.”
We shake hands quickly since his wife Sadie is walking back toward us, putting her phone back in her purse.
“I hope he didn’t bore you,” she says. “If he was talking too much football, blink twice and I’ll pull him away.”
Oh, I like her. “I grew up in a football household. Graduate of UT and family are season ticket holders.”
Sadie’s smile immediately grows as I hear Hunter let out a groan. “I knew I liked you.”
We talk for a few more minutes, since apparently I’m in company with a fellow Tennessee grad, before I feel a hand on the small of my back.
“There you are,” Logan says. “Just wanted to check on you.”
I smile up at the man who has done a wonderful job tonight of introducing me to those he wants to, while also letting me forge out on my own. “Everything’s great.”
“Good,” he says, formally introducing himself to Hunter and Sadie. The two excuse themselves, but not before Hunter gives me a look that says he’ll be calling me.
“Another commission?”
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face if I tried. “Hunter was asking me if I’d be interested in decorating a surprise office he’s building for his wife.”
“That’s amazing,” Logan responds, bringing me in for a kiss that I feel through my body. “I think by the end of tonight you’re going to be booked for the next two years.”
I might be. And none of them, not one, was a man cave for a post-divorce bachelor pad.
I think I might cry.
“Thank you,” I say, pulling him in by his lapels for a kiss. “This is all happening because of you. I don’t know if I could ever say thank you enough.”
“No thanks needed, Love. You did this yourself. Your talent did this. I might have put a spotlight on you, but your brilliance has always shined on its own.”
Logan has called me beautiful. He’s called me smart. He’s called me sexy. When he calls me his wife I’m embarrassed how my body shivers. But when he compliments my work? Calls my talent brilliant? That’s my definition of talking dirty…
And while I’m overwhelmed by the response I’ve gotten tonight, I’ve also never been prouder of how a project turned out. Just this grand room alone is something that I’ll be putting in my portfolio for years to come. We gave it a rustic feel that will look good in June, but in December with trees and holiday decorations spread throughout? It looks like a cabin at a ski lodge in Colorado. The whites and creams against the browns of the wood are the perfect backdrop to the Christmas lights and trees I’ve put around. It’s a huge room, but somehow we were able to give it a cozy, intimate feel.
Most important? I enjoyed designing it. I found my love for creating spaces again, and I owe it all to Logan for letting me go forward with my vision.
In what feels like a blink of an eye, Logan Matthews has gone from one-night-stand, to client, to the man who helped me find my love again for my job, to husband. He helped me in a time he didn’t have to. He’s brought Jayce and me into his home, and we’ve created this unpredictable little family. And maybe the biggest thing of all, he’s made me feel again.
It’s a Christmas miracle.
“Thank you,” I say, taking his hand in mine. “For so much.”
His smile hits me just as hard as his words just did. “As much as I’d like to suggest we sneak away so you can thank me properly, I have to make a speech.”
At that moment, I feel my cell phone vibrating in my clutch purse. Having an estimated idea of what time it is, I figure it’s Jayce for his nightly call.
“You’re fine. I’m going to step outside and talk to Jayce.”
Logan leans in to kiss my cheek as we go separate ways. I hurry and take out the phone, and luckily my mom has prepared him for an abbreviated goodnight phone call, knowing I wouldn’t be able to talk long.
I step outside onto the terrace as Jayce starts reading from the book. I let the cool air hit me, but love the slight bite against my skin. Sometimes you get a winter like this in Tennessee, when it’s not too cold, but just cool enough to do the trick.
After we say our goodnights, and he tells me to tell Logan goodnight specifically, I put my phone away and start making my way back inside. But just as I’m about to open the door, I smell the distinct smell of cigarettes, and a whisper from the other side of the terrace.
“I can’t believe he married her!”
“Right? She’s…ugh.”
Now, I’m a proper Southern woman. I’m not one to spread gossip.
But I sure as shit am going to listen to it.
I do my best to inch closer to the whispering voices, but I can only get so far as a row of shrubbery is separating me from them. Though the mask of green plants is allowing me to sit and listen in, I have a distinct feeling they’re talking about me.
And I have a feeling I know who they are.
“It can’t be real. I mean, he was doing PR relationships well before her. That’s what I was. She has to be another one of those.”
Yup. That would be Candace. And the other voice sounds like the distinct shrill of Vivian.
“But marriage? Like they full-on got married. Like at the courthouse. They were pictured leaving and everything.”
Good to know Vivian keeps up on the news of the day.
“I didn’t even know he was dating anyone,” Candace says. “I hadn’t heard about him seeing anyone since me. And let’s be real, he fumbled me. I know we were set up by our publicists, but I was ready to sleep with him. And he just wanted to play his stupid game.”
Oh, I’m so glad that didn’t happen…
“I just don’t get it,” Vivian says. “She’s, like, okay looking for a mom. And that’s what I thought when Josh introduced us. But like, with Logan? She’s so…blah.”
Blah! I’ll show her fucking blah…
“Clearly he’s done with models and is now slumming it,” Vivian continues. “Just look at her. She’s old. I mean, what is she, like forty? I didn’t know he was into grandmas.”
I let out a gasp and quickly cover my mouth. How dare she? I’m thirty-six, and I think look damn good for it! Especially since I pushed out a kid. So—and I’d say this to her face if I wasn’t hiding in the bushes—in all disrespect, fuck right the fuck off, Vivian.
Though she does have a point…I am a cougar. I’m lusting over a younger man.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’m in love with him…
“Though, I will say, her dress is pretty?” Candace says, though with the question mark at the end I don’t know if that’s a compliment.
“It’s off the rack,” Vivian says. “And I bet she made him wear that ugly green tuxedo.”
It takes all I have in me to not let out a gasp. How dare she!
My dress is, in fact, designer, though it might be rented because I’ll never wear it again. And I want to chime in that it was his idea to coordinate green and red. And I think he looks very handsome.
“I don’t know. I think Logan looks fucking hot,” Candace says. “I don’t care that he’s married. If he said the word I’d fuck him.”
“We all would. He’s Logan Matthews. Which is why it’s a travesty he’s with her .”
I take a deep but silent breath, as I rein in the urge to take off my earrings, jump this fence, and swing both Vivian and Candace around by their extensions.
I won’t, because I’m a fucking adult. But if my sisters were here? Or maybe if this was college-age Maeve? It would be game fucking on.
“Do you know how they met?” Candace asks.
“I mean, isn’t it obvious? He’s now shopping on a clearance rack for fake relationships.”
Okay, that’s not a bad joke, even if it’s at my expense. And frankly, I didn’t know ol’ Vivian had it in her.
“But it’s obvious why they got married,” she continues. “And it’s because of me.”
Vivian’s voice is suddenly very cocky. And I hate that she’s not wrong about that.
“What do you mean?”
“So, when I finally convinced Josh to marry?—”
I lean into the bushes, nearly falling through them to hear what Vivian’s about to say. I even grab my phone to start recording it. But someone—and when I find out who I’m going to steal all their spoons—opens the door on the other side of the terrace, effectively ending their conversation. I stay in my seat for a second to make sure they don’t start again, but it starts getting too cold and I have to force myself inside.
When I walk back into the ballroom, I can’t see either of them. And as much as I want to go on a hunt to track them down and figure out what the last part of that conversation would’ve been, I know I need to find Logan and return to my role as the dutiful wife.
“There you are,” Logan says, coming behind me, rubbing my arms to warm me up. “That took longer than you thought?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry I missed your speech,” I say. “But I heard?—”
Before I can tell Logan what I started to overhear, and that I think Vivian was about to spill her secrets, someone grabs his attention.
And that person is Candace’s date. With Candace on his arm.
I have no idea who he is, and frankly, I don’t care. All I can do is stare at the woman who I just overheard talk openly that she’d fuck my husband and not care that I was in the picture.
I’m shooting daggers at her, and I don’t know if she’s just ignoring me, or oblivious, but she doesn’t even look my way. Which is fine. I’m patient. I can wait for her to realize that no one talks about fucking my husband other than me.
Holy shit…I just referred to him as my husband.
I knew Logan was different. I always knew, but I could never put a finger on it. Between him making me feel relaxed enough to break my vow of no men on the first night we met, to convincing me that marriage was a good idea, I knew this was not any normal man. Or any normal relationship.
And I was coming around to the feelings that I had pushed down for so long and refused to feel for anyone. Things like want, and passion, and just enjoying another person…they are finally coming out of retirement.
But these? These are new. Loathing. A little jealousy. And a brand-new one—possessiveness.
This man is mine. Candace and any other woman can look. But they can’t fucking touch.
Finally Candace realizes that I’ve been staring at her for going on three minutes while the men blabber on about whatever. She tries to give me a smile—it’s fake—and I return one—also fake.
I might not talk about it, but I was in a southern sorority. I can be fake with the best of them.
“You must be Maeve,” Candace says, daintily holding out a hand. “I’m Candace.”
“Hello. And yes, I’m Maeve Banks-Matthews. Or Mrs. Logan Matthews. I haven’t decided which one I like best yet.”
I mean, I’m keeping my name. But Blondie McBimbo over here doesn’t need to know that.
Our eyes narrow at each other, both of us realizing what we’re doing. But before I can start a cat fight, I feel Logan’s hand back on the small of my back.
“We should be going,” he says. “Good seeing you both.”
I wave goodbye as Logan quickly leads me out of the main room. He looks around the hall a second before pushing me toward his office, quickly shutting the door behind him.
“What—” My question is cut off by the force of his kiss on me. He has me pressed against the door. The room is pitch dark, and all I can feel is the wood against my back, Logan’s lips taking what they want, and his dick pressing into me.
“Were you jealous, Love?” Logan’s mouth is just far enough away that our lips aren’t touching.
“Yes.” The word is nearly a whisper as it comes out of my mouth.
“Why? You know we never were really together.”
“I know. But I heard her talking outside…and she said she wanted you.”
Logan lets out a groan at my admission. “And how did that make you feel?”
I take in a breath. “Jealous. Possessive.”
“Is that so?”
I bite my lip as I grab the lapels of his jacket. “I wanted to tell her that you’re mine.”
“Fuck…” Logan smashes his lips into mine again, taking whatever he wants, before he suddenly pulls back. “Say it again.”
His eyes are on fire. I feel his cock twitching against me. My breathing is heavy, and my body is heating.
And I don’t even hesitate.
“You’re mine, Logan Matthews.”