by Ella Frank
Tate shrugged. “It never came up, I guess. I didn’t want to go to a university straight out of school, so I got a full-time job and then paid my way through night school. When I turned twenty-one, I got a job at a local pub, and the rest is history.”
“Huh. Any other secrets you’re hiding away?”
Tate pretended to think it over. “Hmm. Not that I can think of right now.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yep.”
Logan settled deeper into the couch, drawing Tate down with him.
“So, you really think I could do this?” Tate asked, tracing his finger across Logan’s chest and swirling it around his nipple. “I mean, I’d have a lot to research before I could even consider it plausible. Loans, licenses, properties… It would be a huge undertaking.”
“It would be,” Logan agreed, playing with his hair. “If you wanted…” he started but paused as if he weren’t sure whether or not what he was about to say would be welcome.
Tate pushed up a little and asked, “If I wanted…what?”
“I was just going to say if you’d like some help, I’d be more than happy to, you know, help in any way.” Logan gave a nonchalant shrug as if he would be fine either way, no matter what his answer was.
But somehow, Tate knew that Logan wanted to be more involved than he was letting on.
“I’d like that,” he told him, and the expression that came into Logan’s eyes was well worth all the nerves and any embarrassment he’d felt in telling him what he wanted to do with his future.
* * *
Logan couldn’t help the grin he knew he was aiming Tate’s way. When he’d finally told him what he’d been thinking about, Logan couldn’t have been more excited for him.
He knew that Tate would make an excellent proprietor of any bar, pub or even restaurant he decided to open. The only question that remained in Logan’s mind was if he would want to do it all on his own or if he would be open to some help.
My help.
But when Tate nodded and told him that, yes, he would be, Logan just about tackled him down under him on the couch.
“You would, huh?” Logan finally answered, trying to play it cool.
“Yeah. I mean, only if you want to, of course.”
Leaning down, Logan kissed his lips. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”
Tate put both hands on his chest, shocking Logan by pushing him back on the couch so he could crawl over him. “You honestly think this is a good idea? You’re not just saying that?”
Logan settled against the leather, placing his head on the armrest as Tate wedged his hips between his bent legs. “Yes, I really do. You know, I happen to be pretty good friends with a couple of people who know a thing or two about this business.”
Tate tilted his head to the side, and Logan continued.
“You happen to be also. Especially one pregnant woman in particular who I know would be dying to talk your ear off about this.”
As if it hadn’t even occurred to him, Tate’s eyes widened when he made the connection. “Rachel. I didn’t even think about that.”
Logan chuckled. “I know. But I can’t think of a better person to ask since she and Mason run one of the hottest restaurants in Chicago.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want them to think they have to help me because—”
“Tate. You’ve met Rachel. Do you really think she would A: ever do something she didn’t want to, or B: not be offended if you didn’t ask her? She’d kill me if she knew you were doing this without talking to her.”
Tate leaned down and kissed his chest. “Hmm, you might be right,” he told him, and then he flicked his tongue over his nipple. “I should call her.”
With Tate’s mouth whispering over his naked flesh, Logan was starting to lose the thread of the conversation. “Huh?”
Tate lifted his head and met his eyes with a smile. “I should call her.”
“Yes. Good idea,” Logan agreed absently, and arched his hips when Tate opened his mouth and gave his pec a gentle bite. He was about to tell him that he should call later, but Tate pushed away and got off the couch. “Wait. You’re going to call her now?”
Tate walked into his bedroom, calling out, “Yeah. Maybe she’ll be free tomorrow, since I’m off.”
Logan sighed in frustration as he sat up and pressed a hand to his jeans.
Me and my big mouth. Couldn’t have waited until I had him naked and under me for my brilliant plan, could I?
“I’m sure she’d be more than willing to fit you in. I know I always am. In fact, I’d be willing to fit you in right now.”
Tate came back out, his cell phone to his ear, took a seat beside him, and laughed, mouthing, “I’m sure you would.”
Logan tugged him back in close so he was practically lying across him, and when Tate stretched his legs out along the couch and put his head on his thigh, Logan ran his fingers through his hair.
Tate’s warm, chestnut-colored eyes found his, and just as he opened his mouth as if to speak, his gaze shifted and he said, “Hey, Rachel. It’s Tate.”
Chapter Six
As the elevator reached Mitchell & Madison’s floor on Monday morning, Logan checked his watch for the second time and cursed his bad luck. The damn traffic had made him late. Once the doors swished open, he hurried out and through the lobby, giving a quick wave to Tiffany as he headed straight through the glass doors toward his office.
It was bad enough that Cole was probably still pissed about everything that had happened Friday night, but add in that he was now late for the meeting Cole had scheduled for this morning and Logan would be surprised if steam wasn’t pouring out of his brother’s ears by the time they caught up with each other.
Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll get inside my office before that happens.
When he reached his PA, who held several files out to him and wished him a good morning, Logan offered her a tight smile and reciprocated. “Morning, Sherry. Is my nine-o’clock here already?”
She gave a swift nod and took his briefcase from him, pointing to the files she handed him.
“That’s all you need right there. He got here around ten minutes ago, so I set him up in your office with a coffee. He seems comfortable enough. Lovely man.”
Logan glanced down at the file in his hand as he started to walk toward his office door and then stopped in his tracks. LPCW Architecture. Damn it.
Well if that wasn’t a big “fuck you” from Cole, he didn’t know what was.
Spinning back to where Sherry was now sitting, Logan asked, “Are both of the owners here this morning?”
Sherry shook her head, and as the words, “Mr. Walker,” fell from her mouth, all other sound vanished.
Christopher Walker was waiting in his office for him right now, and of course, he was running fucking late. Thanks a lot, Cole. And yeah, great way for me to establish the upper hand.
“Mr. Mitchell?”
His name broke through his thoughts, and he caught the frown that was plastered across Sherry’s face.
“Was I supposed to let him wait in the lobby? I just assumed you’d want him comfortable, knowing he was a new client of ours.”
“No, no. You did the right thing. I’m just catching up. Running late has me a little unorganized.”
“That’s why you hired me, remember? Let me know if you need anything else.”
An escape route, maybe? “Thanks, Sherry. I will,” he ended up telling her. Then he turned to face the problem that was no doubt lying in wait, head fucking on.
* * *
Tate pulled his bike into the small parking lot behind the address Rachel had given him yesterday and turned off the ignition.
Exquisite. It hadn’t been hard to find once he’d looked it up. Located in central downtown Chicago, it was in one of the areas that, over the last few years, had undergone some serious overhauling to become revitalized, trendy, and, by the looks of their website, incredibly popular.
> Mason Langley and Rachel Madison were the proud owners of a well-known and loved upscale bar and restaurant that had garnered rave reviews and a 4.9-star rating.
After securing his helmet to the back of his bike, Tate made his way toward the rear door, where Rachel had told him to enter. He took his gloves off and shoved them in the pocket of his jacket as the gravel of the parking lot crunched under his boots.
Am I really, seriously, thinking about doing this? He’d wanted it for years but had never really had the support to go any further than just thinking about it. But after talking it over with Logan and spending yesterday searching potential areas downtown with him, Tate was starting to believe maybe he could pull this off.
Stopping in front of the door, he knocked several times and then stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans to wait. The air was starting to get cooler these days, and it wouldn’t be long before the bitter cold of Chicago returned.
He craned his neck to look up at the high-rises surrounding them, reminded of Logan’s condo and his request that he move in. The idea of living with Logan scared him as much as it excited him.
He knew that, if he hadn’t been through a divorce and seen his life turned upside down once before, he would have said yes in a heartbeat, but that wasn’t the case. He had been through a messy relationship, one where trust was a major factor in why it had broken down, and even though he trusted Logan, he wanted to make sure he was capable of standing on his own two feet before he leaned on anyone else for support.
After the locks on the back door clicked and rattled, it was then pushed open and Mrs. Rachel Madison beamed out at him.
“Well, hello there,” she greeted and held her arms out for a hug.
Tate walked up the couple of stairs and embraced the radiant woman who’d welcomed him into her family from the very minute they’d met.
“Hey, Rachel. Thanks for meeting up with me today.”
She pulled back from him and playfully smacked him on the chest. Then she stepped aside and ushered him in. “Don’t thank me, silly. I’m happy to help. This is so exciting!”
Her exuberance was contagious as he followed her down the narrow hallway and past several offices. They stopped in a large restaurant-sized kitchen full of stainless-steel appliances and counters.
“So,” she said, rubbing her hands together with a huge grin. “Where do you want to start?”
* * *
Logan steeled himself as he reached for the handle to his office door and took a deep breath. You can do this. He’s nothing to you. Remember, you walked away from him.
Pushing through the door, he stepped inside and immediately scanned the space for Chris. When he saw nothing directly in front of him as he’d expected, he frowned—until a hand grabbed his from the side.
“About time you arrived,” Chris said, his familiar voice filling the air.
Logan glanced down at the man who sat forward on the edge of the couch and looked up at him. His blue eyes were raking over him in a way that used to make Logan’s temperature rise, but now, all he felt was stone cold.
Yanking his hand free, he continued over to his desk without saying a word and then dumped the files on it as Chris stood. He was dressed in a tailored, black suit, a navy-blue shirt, and a tie, and although he was as attractive as Logan remembered, the sight of him made him feel ill.
“Have to say, Logan, as far as first impressions go, being late isn’t a good one.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed as Chris started to walk in his direction, and he ordered himself to stay fucking still. He didn’t know what he would do if he moved, afraid he might launch himself at the smug bastard and punch him.
“Your appointment wasn’t until nine. It’s five minutes past. It’s not my fault you came early.”
Chris stopped when only a few feet separated them, lowering his eyes to Logan’s mouth.
“That’s certainly not how I remember it. You used to always be the reason I came early. You were so fucking sexy,” he mused. “You still are.”
Logan pushed away from his desk and straightened, telling himself to keep his mouth shut. No good could possibly come from engaging Chris in a visit down memory lane.
“You’re so quiet this morning,” he continued. “That’s unlike you. You really have nothing to say to me after all this time? After the way you left things?”
Nausea tightened Logan’s gut as he remembered the way he’d ended things with Chris. He’d been lying in a hospital room—one he’d put him in. Then he recalled everything that had led up to that moment and defiantly lifted his chin.
“If I hadn’t ended it that way, you would have. You’d done it before.”
Chris took another step closer and ran his eyes all over his face, which made Logan’s resolve to stay put fade real fucking fast. He wanted to get the hell out of there. Being around this guy made him feel like the weak, pathetic version of himself he used to be—not the self-assured man he was when he was with Tate.
Tate… God, what the hell did I do to deserve him?
When he stared back at Chris, he honestly had no fucking clue. He went to shove past him, but as their shoulders bumped, Chris grabbed his bicep, pulled him against his side, and lowered his mouth by his ear.
“You really don’t think about me at all? Come on, Logan. Your guard dog isn’t here now to bark at me if I get too close. When you saw my name on your invite list, how’d it make you feel? It made me…excited. Knowing that I’d finally get to see you again.”
Logan’s jaw ticked as Chris’s fingers flexed around his upper arm, and then he turned his head so they were eye to eye. “Let go of me.”
Chris jerked him closer and continued as if Logan hadn’t even spoken. “Don’t you miss the way we used to go at one another? You could never get enough. The more I roughed you up, the more you wanted it. Throwing you on a bed and pinning you to it was the quickest way to get you off.”
“Get your fucking hand off me, Chris.”
Instead of doing as he’d requested, Chris rubbed his erection against Logan’s leg as he goaded, “Make me.”
Logan was about to shove him the fuck away when a knock on the door captured their attention. Before either of them could react, the door opened, and Cole walked inside.
* * *
Tate stood in the center of Exquisite’s main dining room and let out a low whistle. The place was full-on sophisticated elegance. Cream tablecloths, perfectly folded napkins around silverware, and an array of wine glasses adorned each table, and on one side of the establishment ran a long, mahogany bar. It was very impressive.
“What do you think?” Rachel asked as she came to stand beside him.
He grinned and nodded. “This place is amazing.”
“Thanks.” She smiled and placed her hands over her swollen belly. “We like it.”
“So you should. It’s stunning and has nothing but rave reviews.”
“Except for that one about the head pastry chef going postal on a customer because they said her cake was dry. But Mase gave me a pass for that since I’m hormonal and all.”
Tate laughed as they walked over toward the bar, and then he helped her to sit on one of the stools. She was wearing a purple shirt that had F.B.I written across the chest, and underneath, it read Funky Baby Inside.
That pretty much summed up Rachel Madison, with her black hair streaked with blue and her brightly colored clothes. Funky. It always amused him that she was married to Cole, because from what he’d seen of the guy, he was incredibly serious.
“I want to hear all about your plans. I remember when Mason first came to me about opening this place. It felt so overwhelming. You have to find the perfect property, then get the loan, then—oh my God—the name. That was stressful enough on its own. Then add in all the legal paperwork… But you have Logan, who can help you with that,” she said with a wink.
Tate had taken a seat beside her and ran a hand through his hair as he thought about everything she’d just said.
“Yeah, it is kind of overwhelming.”
Rachel tapped her nails on the bar and leaned in. “I know, but don’t let that stop you. You have me and Mase. Josh is in construction, Logan is good for all the licensing and legal stuff, and the others, well… They like to eat and drink. So see? You already have a whole team of people who would love to help you out.”
Tate put a hand over hers and gave it a light squeeze. “Thank you.”
“Stop thanking me. We’re practically family.”
He thought about that for a second and was surprised he wasn’t at all freaked out by it. After all, the only way he’d ever really be family with Rachel would be if he were to marry— Yeah, okay. I was wrong. That definitely freaks me out to think about.
“And how is Logan?” she asked, changing the subject. “He seemed upset the other day when he left, and Cole didn’t want to talk about it, so I’m assuming they’re both being stubborn and butting heads?”
Logan hadn’t said much about his visit to Cole’s except that his brother was pissed off about the Chris situation. But Tate was also under the impression that, some way or another, Cole had planted a seed of doubt in Logan’s head when it came to his trusting him—and that irritated the hell out of him. He did trust Logan when it came to Chris, and the last thing he needed was Cole playing big brother and screwing shit up.
“Tate?”
“Sorry. Yeah, I’m thinking they’re still being…obstinate.”
Rachel sighed and shook her head. “I swear those two argue worse than females. God only knows how they ever got their practice up and running without one of them killing the other.”
Tate agreed as he thought about the two men under discussion. He’d seen them both in action, and both were equally formidable when they wanted to be.