Chapter 6
OLIVIA
The most masculine thing a man can be is gentle.
The most attractive thing a man can be is a good father.
In the first five minutes of being at the Triple Crown Ranch, I’ve witnessed Logan Adler be both.
I am so utterly screwed.
—Olivia’s Secret Thoughts
It’s nearly nine in the evening by the time we walk inside the Triple Crown Ranch, which certainly doesn’t look like any ranch I’ve ever imagined.
I know luxury, and this house is luxurious.
With vaulted ceilings, dark, wide-planked, hand-scraped hardwood flooring, and massive windows overlooking acres of green, lush, rolling hills flanked by massive sunflowers in the distance, this home is as incredibly stunning as the landscape it sits on.
As if no expense was spared when it was built, which I’m guessing was more than a hundred years ago.
The space is beautiful, masculine, and minimalist, at least until you step into the kitchen.
I can’t help but wonder if this room is the heart of the house the way it is at my parents’ home.
Full of feminine touches, this space is lighter with white cabinetry, open shelving, and a stunning navy-blue and gold Viking range that neither Serena nor I would have a clue how to use.
What can I say?
We eat a ton of takeout.
I quickly take stock of everything as I move around the space.
A pink vase filled with a mix of daisies and sunflowers sits on the honed marble counter, while a blonde wooden highchair with pink plaid cushions is tucked away next to it.
And there’s a tiny stuffed version of the Highland cow from the picture warming the seat for Magnolia.
That cow had to be made specifically for Magnolia to look like the picture, and something about that warms what Serena likes to joke is my cold heart.
“Hey. I didn’t hear you guys get in.”
Logan, Rafe, and I turn toward the woman walking into the room with a sleepy baby in her arms.
“Dadda . . . Dadda.” The little girl’s tired blue eyes light up the very moment she locks them on her daddy, and in the next instant, she throws herself at Logan, squealing. Any trace of sleep in her eyes long gone as he catches her and cradles her to his broad chest.
“Hey, ladybug,” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to the top of her head.
Okay, kids have never really done it for me.
I mean, I love my nieces and nephew, and I spoil them rotten, but I’ve never been that woman who was desperate to have babies of her own.
I’m not against it, just not sure yet if it’s for me.
I’ve also never been the woman who’s melted at the sight of a good-looking man holding a baby .
. . Apparently, I am now, though, because holy hotness, batman.
Logan Adler cradling his daughter in his arms, whispering words I can barely hear as she cries because she’s so happy to see him . . .
That flipped some kind of switch I was unaware existed.
Son. Of. A bitch.
I look away to find the other woman in the room staring at me, her brows raised and her mouth tight.
Based on the photo he showed me earlier, I know this is Logan’s sister, and she doesn’t look to be a fan of mine.
Women rarely are. I might be a champion of women, but I don’t give off soft, pliant, girly vibes.
I go for more badass boss babe, and that tends to make people uncomfortable.
“Umm,” the beautiful redhead clears her throat as she moves next to Rafe. “What is she doing here?”
Definitely not a fan.
“Hi.” I offer her my hand. “Olivia St. James—”
Logan turns, wrapping an arm around my waist, dragging me next to him. “Adler,” he corrects me, his fingers squeezing my hip as he lays it on thick as molasses, and my eyes fly up to his. “My wife.”
Guess we’re just cannonballing right into the deep end . . .
“I thought . . .”—I look up at him adoringly, which is not an easy feat—“we talked about this, honey. I’m keeping my maiden name.”
“You’re what?” Waverly sputters, her eyes blinking too fast to be anything but shocked.
“I know you’re keeping St. James professionally, Olive.
” Logan ignores his sister’s obvious discomfort.
He’s too busy having fun at what feels like my expense, and I swear, if I could get away with stomping on his foot right now, I’d do it just to wipe the smug smile off his face.
“But I thought personally you’d be taking Adler. ”
Maggie slaps either side of Logan’s face with her chubby hands, demanding his full attention back on her, and I think we may have just broken Waverly.
Her mouth gapes open and closes like one of the large-mouthed bass my brother used to fish in the lake behind our house growing up.
Unlike the fish, her blinking slows, and what little color she has drains from her face.
“Sorry, Maggie. Daddy missed you too.” Logan’s voice is soft as he wipes a fat tear from his daughter’s cheeks and brushes light-brown curls away from her face.
“But I have someone very special for you to meet.” His tone is sweet and sincere.
Too sincere, considering he’s lying to this little girl.
He shifts Magnolia to his hip and turns toward me.
“Maggie, meet Olive.” Logan says it formally, like he expects the one-year-old to understand. “My wife.”
There goes that word again.
Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, Olivia . . .
Maybe if I say it to myself a few times, the room will stop spinning like a goddamned black hole. This was my idea, so why does that single word have me feeling like I should check my entire body for hives?
Magnolia lays her head against her daddy’s chest and blinks her big blue eyes at me.
There’s no way she understood what Logan just said, but woman-to-woman—well, woman-to-future-woman, I think this baby just laid claim to her daddy and told me to back the hell off him.
I refuse to acknowledge the weight of Waverly and Rafe’s stares as I take a step closer to Logan and Maggie, reminding myself this has to be believable.
I have to pass this test and right now, I’m failing.
Gently, I run the tips of my fingers along one of Magnolia’s pajama-clad arms. “Hello, Maggie.”
Okay, so maybe I coo the words a little.
She’s adorable and clearly judging me.
Not that I blame her.
I’d judge me too.
“I’m sorry. I must have heard you wrong.
” Oh shit. Waverly’s voice just pitched into a frighteningly high octave.
“You did not just say that Olivia St. James is your wife.” Her voice might be so high-pitched, I’m surprised anything other than a dog can even hear it, but that last word was basically shrieked as another man walks in, this one broad, with golden skin and dark hair, similar to Rafe, only he’s maybe a decade older.
Ahh . . . This must be the elusive oldest Langley brother.
“The fuck?” he asks, his dark eyes brimming with fury as they dart from Rafe to Logan. “One of you assholes married the uptight ice queen who cost Logan his contract?”
Oh, fuck me.
Does the entire family believe this bullshit?
“Hi.” I offer him my hand, determined to be the bigger person.
“I prefer Olivia, but I guess the press did run with that whole ice queen thing for a hot minute.” More like they’re still running with it.
Remind me why the fuck I married this asshole?
Oh right. Because I want to be partner. I’m going to be partner.
And the asshole who threw me under the media bus the size of a tractor trailer is going to make it happen.
Pretty sure that’s going to have to become my new mantra if I want to get through these next few months.
Fluttering my lashes, I look up at Logan. “Thanks again for that, hubby.”
The oldest Langley leaves my hand hanging as he focuses on Logan. “Seriously? Didn’t I tell you two what happens in Vegas stays in fucking Vegas? You don’t bring strays back to the fucking house.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, venom dripping dangerously from my lips. “You did not just—”
Logan wraps his free arm around me, holding me back because mantra or not, I snap, pushing forward, ready to rip this ass’s head off .
. . verbally, of course. I’ll leave the physical sparring to my dad and brother and occasionally, my sister.
Brynlee might not get in the cage often these days, but she’d still kick this shithead’s ass if she heard him call me a stray.
“Back off, Jasper,” Logan warns in a tone that is impressively strong.
Jasper. I knew that.
“Yes, Jasper,” I agree, snapping back to cool, calm, and collected. At least that’s what I’m telling myself so I can resist the urge to knee this asshole in the balls. “Back off.”
That earns me a glare from Logan, but fuck him if he thinks I’m going to let someone disrespect me.
“And yes, this is Olivia. My wife.” Logan’s lips brush my temple, and my body freezes.
Shit. We’re going to need to touch to make this believable.
Why didn’t I think of that?
Oh right. Because I was pissed and a little drunk and not at all thinking with the logical side of my brain when I came up with this scheme.
Not the greatest combination.
Point taken.
It’s still a solid plan, but damn, do we still have a ton to work out. Not that we can get that done now, in front of his family. Instead, I step into Logan’s chest and play along, ignoring the indignation burning hot in my chest. “I guess our secret is out of the bag.”
“Your what?” Waverly asks, still shell-shocked.
Time to really sell it. If we can’t convince them, then we’re screwed.