Chapter 17
OLIVIA
So . . . Did you get it?
Hello? Livvy! Did you get the promotion?
Are you the newest partner?
Olivia St. James, you better answer me.
Oh shit. Are you still in Chicago?
Liv, seriously, answer me.
It’s way past one.
The wedding is in three hours.
Where the hell are you?
My fucking flight just landed.
On my way home now.
See you soon.
Dude. You better not be late.
But seriously . . . Are you a partner or not?
Not.
—Text from Serena to Olivia
The driver stops the car, and I don’t bother waiting for him to get out. Grabbing my carryon and purse, I throw a thank-you to the man who’s managed to make me carsick in the short drive from the airport to the ranch and breathe a sigh of relief that at least I made it in one piece.
“Livvy,” Pops calls out, as the car pulls away and I suck in a deep lungful of air.
It smells different here. Like apples and rain, and after my shitty day, maybe a little like home.
Something I’ll overanalyze later. Funny, I seem to be thinking that a lot lately.
“You’re gonna break your neck in those heels, darlin’.
” He reaches out with an infectious grin, his old Nobles ball cap molded to his head and fraying at the edge of the bill shadowing his face from the sun but doing nothing to hide the determination in his eyes. “Give me your bag.”
“That’s okay, Pops. I’ve got it.”
“Nonsense. Don’t argue with me. I’m old. You don’t want me to die tomorrow and the last thing you did was fight with me, now, do you?” One bushy brow lifts with his smirk. The same one his grandson likes to give me.
“Does that usually work for you, old man?” I tease, giving in and handing him my bag.
“Most of the time.” His grin grows, and so does mine. “Come on. Waverly’s inside with Maggie, giving the boys hell. I’m sure she could use some backup. Even out the numbers a little bit. You know you remind me of her. You’re feisty.”
“Feisty or bitchy, Pops?” Jasper asks as he walks out of the garage.
His scowl set in a firm line on a face that would be handsome if he wasn’t such a dick.
I get being a protective sibling, but this particular one has it out for me in a way Rafe and Waverly don’t.
In the few weeks I’ve lived here, this asshole hasn’t had a single nice thing to say.
He’s basically taken every opportunity to avoid me whenever he can and to be cruel whenever avoidance isn’t an option.
“Knock it off, Jasper.” Pops chastises with a shake of his head as Jasper makes his way to the stables. “Ignore him. He’s all bark and no bite.”
He’s an asshole is what I want to say, but Pops is being sweet, and I don’t want to be rude, unlike some people. Motioning me forward, I follow the sweet old man who reminds me a little of my dad’s dad before we lost him.
“Where’s the wedding you’re all heading to?” he asks as he holds the door open for me.
“Just outside of Kroydon Hills at Cherry Creek Vineyards.” If I shower faster than I ever have and we don’t hit any traffic, we should be on time. Hopefully.
He looks down at my hand, or more specifically, my ring finger.
My very naked ring finger.
I haven’t worn my ring outside of the ranch yet.
Not yet.
Not until we’re ready.
“You gonna wear that pretty wedding ring tonight?”
When did everyone in my life become so observant?
“Probably not.” At least that’s not a lie. “We’re not telling my family until after tonight. We don’t want to take any of the attention away from the bride and groom.” Another half truth. I’m getting alarmingly good at that.
Pops nods, clearly not convinced, but he chooses not to push it either.
I offer up a quick thanks to whatever higher entity is watching out for me and my ridiculously late ass and follow him inside.
The kitchen is empty when he hands me my bag, concern etched in the deep lines of his weathered face. “He’s a good man, Livvy.”
My heart sinks, and my stomach churns.
Not him too.
I don’t want this man to feel the need to protect Logan.
Jasper can feel however he wants, but not Pops.
He’s done nothing but go out of his way to be kind to me.
And the love he feels for Logan and the Langleys is evident in every breath he takes.
Pops is the heart of the house, and the idea that he thinks he needs to defend Logan .
. . I’m not sure what that says about me.
“I know that,” I whisper, and I mean it. I do. Logan might be a giant jerk most of the time, but even I can see he’s a good man. A good father, brother, and even a good husband too.
“Give him a chance, darlin’. Not many people have given him many things in his life. You give him that, and my boy might just surprise you.” He winks, and I swear there’s a twinkle in his blue eyes that makes tears burn behind mine.
“I will,” I promise, and in a way, it’s my truth. I lift up on my toes and kiss his cheek, then shoulder my duffle. “Thanks for the help, Pops.”
“Anytime, darlin’.” He turns back for the door, and I hurry up the stairs and fling the door of our room open.
“Oh.” I drop my bag to the floor and spin away, not alone. “Oh my God. I’m sorry.”
But am I?
Because I just walked in on an incredibly naked Logan.
Emphasis on incredible.
No one should look like that with or without clothes on.
It’s not natural.
“I, uhh . . .” Shit. “I was rushing . . . I didn’t think.”
His chuckle is deep and gravelly and sets my quickly spiraling nerves on edge.
“You can turn around now, wife.” The smug tone in his voice tempts me to walk right back out of the room, but I can’t.
Not if I want to make it to the wedding.
So I pull my big-girl panties up and force myself to turn around.
Navy-blue boxer briefs now cover the tree trunks he calls thighs, and a little piece of me dies inside from disappointment.
This man is gorgeous, and he knows it. “Cutting it awful close, aren’t we, Olive? ”
“My flight was delayed,” I growl and allow myself one more long look at the beautiful eight-pack carved into his abs. Yup. I’d like to lick every groove. “I’ve got to get a quick shower, and then I’ll be ready. Is Rafe coming with us?”
“Nah. He already left to pick up Serena. Need any help in there?” he asks as I open the bathroom door and let the remaining steam billow out into the bedroom. I basically walk into a Logan-smelling wall of warmth. And I’m not gonna lie—it smells heavenly.
“Help . . . in the shower?” I laugh although I’d love to take him up on his offer. Just not at the expense of my pride.“I think I can manage. But thanks.”
“Whatever you say.” His words hang between us for a moment, neither of us moving until I force myself to shut the door and drop my head against it.
When did resisting him become a full-time job?
Pretty damn quickly after I married him, if I’m being honest.
But I don’t have time to focus on that.
Time to get ready to put on another show.
At this rate, I should have been a damn actress.
Thirty-five minutes later, I’m thoroughly impressed with myself.
My hair is down in loose waves because quite honestly, I didn’t have time for anything else.
At least it’s dry. My makeup is minimal and on point, and my dress could turn a saint into a sinner, if I do say so myself, which I do.
I love this dress. Pale-blue silk skims my skin, hugging my curves in all the best places.
With a high neckline and two thick straps that wrap around my shoulders, leaving my entire back completely bare, my less than stellar ass looks incredible.
A fact cemented a moment later when I step out of the bathroom and my husband groans.
“Fucking hell, Olivia.” His blue eyes deepen to nearly navy, and I can’t even act like that doesn’t bring a smile to my face. “You look . . .” His voice trails off as his eyes devour me.
Mission accomplished.
Logan stands in the middle of the bedroom, his hands fisted at his sides, as if he’s stopping himself from touching me. “How am I supposed to keep my hands off you in front of your family?”
“Well, thank you,” I preen. I can’t help it. Anyone would with the way my husband is looking at me. “You clean up nicely yourself, Adler.”
And oh boy, does he. A midnight-blue suit and a crisp, white dress shirt, clearly custom-made to fit his body, create quite a gorgeous package. I walk past him into the closet and smile at the next groan, this one deeper. “Olivia—”
Guess he saw the back of the dress.
Checkmate.
“Yes, husband?” I ask over my shoulder as I grab the small silver clutch I brought back from my house earlier this week.
Within a single heartbeat, Logan is standing behind me.
Heat radiating against me.
Close but not close enough.
Not touching.
And that’s what I want. Touching. All the touching.
A curse falls from his lips before his rough palm slides to the small of my back, and he loses whatever war was waging behind his eyes. With slight pressure from that palm, he guides me out of the room. “Let’s go say goodnight to Magnolia before we leave.”
“Is Waverly watching her tonight?”
“She is. I figured I already have Rita here extra hours next week for the away games. Waves said she’d cover for me tonight. Not that Rita isn’t a great nanny, but I feel better when Maggie’s with family.”
“When are your games?” I ask as we head downstairs. “These are the last preseason ones, right?”
“Yeah. We’re away Wednesday night and Saturday afternoon. The season kicks off—”
“The following Thursday at home,” I finish for him, pulling up my mental calendar.
“You’ve been paying attention, wife?” Logan guides me through the house into the family room, where Waverly and Maggie are snuggled up on the couch, watching a movie.
“Kinda my job, Adler.” I wink and take one of Maggie’s sticky hands in mine. “You going to be good for Aunt Waverly?”
“Li,” Maggie babbles. It’s as close as she’s come to Waverly’s name since I met the two of them, and I swear every time Maggie utters the single syllable, I think her aunt sheds a tear.
“Cell phone reception sucks at the vineyard, Waves. If you need anything and can’t get us, I’ll text you the main number to call. They’ll find us.”
She tilts her head and appraises me, probably unsure if I’ve earned the use of Waves instead of Waverly. But my sister-in-law nods anyway, continuing with the tentative truce we’ve established since the custody hearing.
“Bye, ladybug.” Logan kisses her forehead. “Daddy will be back soon. I love you.”
“Dadda . . .” she whines, not wanting Logan to leave. And if it were anything else, I think I’d probably cave, throw pajamas on, and curl up on the couch right next to her for the night, but we can’t.
“Love you,” he whispers one more time, then guides me out of the room. “I fucking hate leaving her.”
“I can understand that.” I debate my next words as we step into the garage, and Logan opens the door of the Escalade.
Stopping, I place a hand to his chest. “Instead of having Rita stay to watch Maggie next week, how about you let me do it? It’s just one overnight, right?
Wednesday?” And it’s not even like it’s the entire night.
He’ll be home in the early hours of the morning.
“Saturday is early afternoon. Why have the nanny do it, when her stepmother can?”
Okay. That’s the first time I’ve referred to myself as a stepmother.
Not sure how I feel about that just yet.
“You sure, Olive? Wednesday’s game is in Nashville. Doubt I’ll be home before two or three.”
I smooth my hands over his lapels and look up—because even with four-inch heels, Logan still has nearly a foot on me. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”
He lifts his hand as if he’s about to cup my face but hesitates and drops it instead. “You never cease to amaze me, wife.”
“Now that’s a compliment I can appreciate, Logan.” I drop my hands and pick up the edge of my dress when Logan stops me with a strong hand curled around my throat.
His thumb caresses the column of my neck. “I realized something the other day.”
“And what was that?” The words come out nearly hushed.
He studies my face, like he’s looking for an answer to a question he’s never asked. Like the answer lies unspoken between us. And I wait . . . one breath, then another.
“You okay, Adler?”
“I never actually apologized.” His words are soft but pack a solid punch.
I shake my head. “No. You didn’t.”
His other hand slides up the other side of my neck, cupping the back of my head.
“I should have. Really, I just shouldn’t have said it in the first place.
My anger was at myself and my agent, and it was easier to blame you than myself or him at the time.
It was misplaced and it was wrong. I was wrong.
I didn’t mean it, and I shouldn’t have said it. I am sorry, Olive.”
The weight that’s been sitting heavy on my chest lightens just a bit, and I lift up and kiss my husband’s cheek. “Seeing your name dragged into anything negative hurts. Whether you want them to or not, words matter. Your words mattered. And your apology mattered. Thank you.”
He stares at my lips, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me, but instead, drops his hands and steps back. “I should have told you that as soon as I said it. I should have told you that the night we got married.”
“Well, you told me now. You’re about to face down my entire family, and we’re kind of scary, so I’m sure you’ll get to defend yourself about a hundred times tonight. Consider this practice.”
Logan nods and waits for me to get in and buckle up before he shuts the door.
Forgiveness is easy.
Forgetting is much harder.
But some things are worth giving a second chance.
I think my husband might just be one of those things.