Chapter 11
LOGAN
Did I see blondie sneaking out of
the ranch this morning?
She and Olivia had coffee and
breakfast with Pops.
Not sure I’d call that sneaking.
Dude. If she spent the
night in your bed, where
the hell did you sleep?
Worry about your
own shit, brother.
But your shit is so much
more fun at the moment.
Fuck off, dumbass.
Have fun at dinner with
the new in-laws tonight.
Can’t wait to hear how
Cade “The Saint” St. James
handles you “handling”
his baby girl.
I’m not handling anyone.
Maybe you should give it a try.
Might make you nicer
to be around.
—Text from Rafe to Logan
“And whatever you do, don’t mention anything sexual,” Olivia warns after giving me the code to key into the wrought-iron gate blocking the tree-lined driveway leading to her parents’ house on the outskirts of Kroydon Hills.
“Really, Olive? Do I look that dumb?” I mock, taking in the sun setting behind the secluded estate.
I know of Olivia’s family. I’m familiar with their name.
If you’re an athlete in this country, you’re at least aware of the Kingston sports dynasty.
And even though I grew up around wealth, basically adjacent to it until my first pro contract, it was never this kind of wealth.
The Kingstons aren’t millionaires.
They’re fucking billionaires.
With a capital B.
Something that’s been easy to ignore once the woman sitting next to me moved into my house, my room, and my family.
“Are you sure you want me to answer that?” she asks, taking stock of the cars in the driveway.
A Rolls Royce SUV, a Land Rover, and a Maybach.
Yeah, this isn’t your average baller blowing their contract on a car kind of money.
“Remember, my parents are excellent lie detectors,” she continues, taking my silence for agreement instead of what it really was.
Assessment of my surroundings. “So base as much of your answers in truth as you can. And please, for the love of God, don’t get into a fight with my sister’s husband. ”
The two of us exit the car, our doors closing as I reach into the backseat and unbuckle a sleeping Maggie.
Nothing knocks this kid out faster than a car ride does.
“We’re professionals, dear,” I tease my beautiful wife as she smooths down her hair.
“Just because he coaches our biggest rival doesn’t mean your brother-in-law and I can’t have a civil conversation. ”
Olivia meets me on this side of the car and reaches in for Maggie’s diaper bag. “Sure, you can.”
Before she can walk away, I wrap a hand around her back and pull her toward Maggie and me. “Relax. We’ve got this.” I search her eyes for any sign of the typical cocky confidence that’s usually shining back at me and come up empty. “You’re spiraling.”
“I don’t spiral,” Olivia argues, but she doesn’t pull away. No, my feisty little wife actually takes a step closer and runs a hand over Maggie’s back. “I’m sorry. I’m tired and cranky and not at all in the mood to deal with my family.”
“Maybe don’t let your cousin spend the night in our bed, and you won’t be so tired, Liv,” I taunt.
“I like when you call me Liv,” she whispers, and I soften.
“Can you sleep in tomorrow, or do you have to work?”
“Work. But I’ll do it from the ranch. I’m not going back to the office until Monday.
” Her dark lashes flutter as she looks up at me.
Even with the heels I suspect she wields like weapons, my wife is still at least half a foot smaller than me.
Something I’ve never really been into before, but damn . . . on her, it works.
I take a chance and drop my lips to the crown of her head, liking this quiet truce. “Maybe we could—”
“Aunt Livvy—” someone yells from the front door, a voice that makes my wife smile as she stiffens in my arms before taking a step back.
“Hey, kid.” Olivia’s voice shakes the tiniest bit as she smiles back at the lanky kid staring at us with blatant curiosity. A dark mop of messy brown hair and green eyes the color of Olivia’s looking back. Pretty sure that must be Knight.
A woman who looks similar to my wife but with red hair and a few extra inches on Olivia pulls the kid back. That is definitely Brynlee St. James-Kane. “Hey, Liv. Need any help?”
“Nope.” She takes my hand in hers and leads me up the front path. “Hey, Brynnie.”
Brynlee smiles for her sister’s sake before turning her untrusting gaze my way. Her hands go to the young boy’s shoulders protectively. “You must be the husband.”
“Brynlee,” Olivia sighs. “I’d like to introduce you to Logan and Maggie.”
“You got any older kids, Logan?” the boy I’m assuming is Knight asks.
“Knight,” his mother chastises.
“What? The baby’s cute, but babies are boring,” Knight argues.
“You’re not wrong, kid. And sorry, so far, it’s just the one kid.” Maggie lifts her head, slowly stirring as Knight shrugs and walks away. “Nice to meet you, Brynlee.”
Her eyes narrow. “I’m still holding back judgment on you, Adler.” She steps back and wraps her arms around her sister. “He is hot though.”
“Pretty sure he can hear you, Brynn,” Olivia laughs.
Brynlee looks my way, a small, devious smile on her face. “Oh, sweetie, he knows he’s hot. The hottest ones always do.”
Great. So her entire family is prickly too.
Maggie picks now to lift her head and whimper. She might like sleeping in the car, but my girl isn’t a fan of waking up somewhere different from where she fell asleep.
“Let’s get her inside,” Olivia announces, steeling her spine and, I sense, readying for war.
Minutes later, I realize why.
We walk through the house into the kitchen, where a woman who looks exactly like I imagine my wife will in twenty years stands behind a large, white-marble island, opening a pink bakery box for Knight to take a cookie.
“Mom,” Brynlee warns as Knight nicks the cookie and hauls ass out of the kitchen.
The girls’ mom bats her eyes just like Olivia does. “One cookie won’t hurt him.”
Her words might be for Brynlee, but her eyes are bouncing between Olivia and me.
“Hi, Mom,” Olivia utters, already sounding exhausted. I’m beginning to think this is a constant state of being for her.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Her gaze settles on me. “Introduce me, Liv.”
“Mom . . .” Olivia walks into my side and rests a hand on Maggie’s back. “This is Logan and Maggie.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. St. James.” Fucking hell, I sound like a ten-year-old.
Scarlet arches a perfectly shaped brow before softening as she looks at Maggie, who’s dropped her head back to my chest. “We’re not that formal in this house, Logan.
You can call me Scarlet.” She rounds the island, stopping in front of us and kissing Olivia’s cheek before reaching her hands out in front of Maggie.
“Hello, sweet girl,” she coos at my daughter. “Don’t you look just like your daddy.”
And to all our surprises, Maggie reaches her arms out toward my new mother-in-law and goes willingly into Scarlet’s hold.
Let’s hope this is a sign for a good night.
Nope.
Not a sign.
“So, Logan.” Cade St. James, former MMA world heavyweight champion, leans back in his chair at the head of the table, glaring.
I honestly expected Olivia’s mom to be the hard ass after listening to everything she’s said about the woman, but Maggie apparently softened her right up.
Cade, on the other hand, seems determined to hate me. “Livvy hasn’t told us how you two met.”
“Daddy,” my wife sighs, and I realize just how fucking screwed I am.
She called him Daddy.
One day, when Maggie is old enough to date, or God fucking forbid, brings home some asshole she married in Vegas, I’m going to want to rip the fucker’s balls from his body and shove them down his throat. So I get it. The need to hate me. But damn, it’s sure as shit not helping right about now.
“You haven’t, Olivia. You haven’t told us anything,” Cade adds as Scarlet feeds Maggie a pink cupcake as she sits happily in her lap, with Knight playing peek-a-boo, clearly enjoying making his newest cousin laugh.
“We met in college,” Olivia tries to appease her father, like she needs to protect me.
Fake or not, I don’t need her protection.
“The first time I ever saw your daughter was in our public speaking class. It was the first of many times she impressed the hell out of me—”
“Oh,” Scarlet interrupts me with a keen eye. “And when was the second?”
“A week later,” I tell them all, not bothering to take a breath. “She was reading a book at a party my brother dragged me to. Everyone else was blowing off steam,” I tell them, careful of my words in front of the kids. “But Liv was sitting in the corner of the room, her phone glued to her face.”
Olivia turns to me, shock in her mossy green eyes. “You thought I was doom scrolling and made fun of me for having my face buried in my phone.”
“You put me in my place so damn fast, then showed me the book on your phone. Said it reminded you of home. You never felt the need to conform to what others expected you to be doing, and when Rafe threw a plastic ball at you to get you to play beer pong, you threw it back and hit him in the eye.” She was so fucking pretty.
Tight jeans, a tighter sweater, and knee-high leather boots with white ruffle socks peeking out the top.
“Good job,” Brynlee’s husband, Deacon, laughs.
“I was aiming for his nuts,” Olivia adds as I stretch my arm along the back of her chair and tangle a finger in her hair.
“If she’s so impressive, why did you call her a bitchy ice queen in your Sports Center interview, Adler?” Brynlee growls, and I decide right then and there that I like her sister.
Protective is good.
We all deserve protective siblings.
“Because I was pissed and taking it out on the wrong person. It’s always easier to blame someone else than to own your own mistakes.” I tug Olivia’s hair. “Luckily for me, your sister took mercy on my stupidity and forgave me.”
“Has she?” Scarlet asks, and Olivia cocks her head to the side and drags her bottom lip between her teeth.
“She has,” Liv answers her mom after a few moments.