by Ella Frank
He hadn’t pushed Tate about the bar since they’d last discussed it weeks ago, but when he’d gone back to work at After Hours, Logan thought that it was a shame he seemed to have pushed his dream aside…yet again.
“It’s funny, you showing me this today.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
Tate’s mouth curved as he raised the mug to his lips and took another sip. “You’re trying so hard not to demand an answer from me right now, aren’t you?”
Logan tried for his most affronted look, but he knew he hadn’t pulled it off when Tate chuckled. “I can be patient.”
“I don’t know. It’s not your finest quality.”
Logan crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Tate, waiting for him to continue.
“Well, tonight…” he said, pausing as he thought over his next words.
“You’re an asshole,” Logan grumbled. “Spit it out, would you?”
“You know, you’re right. You are so patient,” Tate teased, a wide smile flashing across his lips. “Tonight is my last night at After Hours. If that’s still okay with you.”
Logan hadn’t been expecting that—not at all. Sitting forward, he tilted his head to the side and heard himself ask, “Are you serious?”
Tate nodded. “But only if it’s something you’re still comfortable with.”
Logan stood and walked around the table to rest his ass against it. “I know there’s more. You’d never just leave your job to do nothing. So start talking, William.”
Tate looked up at him and ran his fingers through his hair. “How do you know that?”
Logan placed a hand on the back of Tate’s chair and gave him a lingering kiss. “Because I know you. You’d never be happy sitting around here. You’re honorable, hardworking, and stubborn as hell. And by your own admission, you’ve worked two jobs most of your life with a single goal in mind.” He kissed him again and then lifted his head. “They’re also some of the many reasons why I love you.”
* * *
Tate raised his hands to cradle Logan’s face, and as he deepened the kiss, he stood up between his legs. He nipped at Logan’s lower lip and then whispered, “I want to take you there.”
Logan smiled, and then he joked, “You took me there when I woke earlier. You should eat breakfast, restore your strength first.”
Tate rolled his eyes and pointed to the paper by Logan’s hip, indicating the advertisement for the restaurant and loft. “There. I want to show you this place.”
Logan looked down at the paper, and then he backed away holding up his finger as if to say, One sec. He disappeared into their bedroom and, after several seconds, came back out with something in his hands.
When he put a crumpled piece of paper down on the table, Tate saw the circled address written at the bottom of the sheet with: Perfect location. Decent price. Show Logan. Tell him yes.
Tate took Logan’s hand in his and tugged him forward, asking in a low voice, “You kept this?”
Logan swallowed, trying to keep his own emotions at bay. But when Tate wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed his ear, he nodded.
“Yes, and I’ve been waiting.” When Tate pulled back, Logan smiled. “Show me.”
* * *
As Logan executed a perfect parallel park, Tate sat in the passenger’s seat beside him, staring at the empty building on the corner of the block. The wall of windows that ran up the side of the property called to him just as they had the first time he’d seen them, and as he looked across the street, he was happy in that instant that he had no memory of what had occurred after he’d said goodbye to Rachel that day.
Logan turned the ignition off and faced him in the car. “This is the place, right?”
Tate nodded and reached for the jacket he’d thrown on the back seat before he passed Logan his burgundy scarf.
Logan unlocked the doors and asked, “Then what are you waiting for, Mr. Morrison? Show me.”
Tate took a deep breath and then opened the car door. As the chilly air hit him, he pulled his coat on and zipped it while Logan came around the front of the car, wrapping the scarf around his neck. With his glasses on and his black coat buttoned over his dark jeans, Logan looked amazing. He reached for his hand, and Tate took it without hesitation.
They crossed the street and made their way around to the front double doors, where the same woman who’d shown him and Rachel the property the first time was waiting.
“Mr. Morrison. What a pleasure to see you again,” she gushed, extending her hand.
Tate reached for it, and as they shook, she moved her eyes to Logan and smiled.
“And…?”
“Sorry, this is Logan,” he told her. As she let his hand go, he added, “And please, call me Tate.”
“Okay, then, Tate. Let’s get inside and out of this brutal wind.” She unlocked the doors and then pushed one open, holding it for the two of them to pass by.
The space was just as he remembered it—with the bar already in place and in great condition. The afternoon sun streamed in from the large windows, lighting up the seating area to the left.
Hand in hand, they took the three steps leading down to the main floor, and when Logan stopped, Tate turned to see him unbuttoning his coat.
“As you know, from your last visit, the space also comes with the loft area above. That’s still included in the price, and since you last checked it out, the seller has dropped it a little.”
While she continued to talk, rattling off facts and figures, Tate leaned his back against the bar and put his elbows on top of it, watching Logan wander around the space. He liked seeing him there.
Logan was clearly listening to everything the realtor was saying, as was he, and with every new piece of information, he’d nod his head with a look of concentration furrowing his brow.
Once she finished her spiel, Tate took a step away from the bar and asked if she could give them a minute to check out the loft. She agreed, gave him the key to the door, and then told them to take their time. She would do some work in her car.
Tate made his way over to the closed, wooden door with the square glass panel and rested his shoulder against the jamb, keeping a close eye on Logan as he silently made his way over to him. He was trying to gauge his thoughts, but he should’ve known better. Logan had a killer poker face.
“There’s a loft?” he asked.
Tate nodded and unlocked the door to the little nook. He was about to walk through when Logan grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
“You aren’t thinking of moving out, are you?”
Tate took the ends of Logan’s scarf in his hands and wound them around his wrists. When Logan was close enough that his windblown hair was brushing against his forehead, Tate murmured, “Not in a million years. But…”
“But?”
“There’ll be late nights, and I’d like a place close by for us if we don’t feel like driving across town. This is close to Mitchell & Madison too.” As Tate started to walk backwards, he unwound the woolen scarf, and then he tugged the ends, urging Logan to follow.
“For us, huh?”
“Yep” Tate agreed, and then he turned to make his way up the stairs. After two small flights, they reached the top and Tate stopped. “Something she forgot to mention down there…” he said as Logan walked around him, running his hand over the sliding metal door of the loft. “The builder made sure the loft was soundproofed to block out the noise below.”
Logan turned toward him and arched an eyebrow over his glasses. “Really?”
Tate took a step forward until Logan’s back met the door and nodded. “Really. When you step behind this door, you can’t hear anyone, and they can’t hear you.”
Logan chuckled, and the smile he flashed was pure sex. “Well, I definitely like the sound of that. Not that I was overly concerned. It may have been a little uncomfortable for the customers to hear the owner shouting in pleasure while I blow his…mind, but I was willing to have earplugs for sale at the
bar.”
Tate raised his hand and slid the key into the lock of the old firehouse door. When he took the thick, metal handle in his hands, Logan stepped aside. Then he hauled it open and assured him with a wink, “No earplugs will be necessary. Feel free to blow the owner any time you like.”
* * *
Logan loved it. The space was absolutely perfect for Tate’s ideas for the bar. Between the business area downstairs and the loft above, he was impressed.
They said their goodbyes to the realtor, and Tate told her that he would be in contact. But Logan wondered where his mind was at in the process.
“Well?” Tate asked. “What do you think?”
Logan slipped his hands into his coat pockets and walked over to where Tate was standing on the pavement outside the bar. Stopping in front of him, Logan smiled and looked at the locked double doors, which angled out to the street, and then back to him.
“I think it’s great.”
“You’re being serious?”
“Of course I’m serious. It’s a great location, and the building is in immaculate condition as far as I can tell. You’ll need to hire an inspector for all the nitty-gritty, but the interior, like you said, is already remodeled. And the price—for this area? The price is insane.”
Tate nodded eagerly like a little boy as he glanced back to the door and practically bounced on his toes. “I’m so happy you like it.”
“I don’t like it,” Logan said. “I love it. I think it’s absolutely perfect.”
As Tate faced him, Logan stepped forward to kiss him and saw a white fleck of snow catch on Tate’s eyelashes. He raised his gaze above them and watched as the first snow of the season fell down around them. Then he closed his eyes, letting the flurries hit his cheeks. When Tate’s fingers slid into his hair and then pulled his face in close, Logan opened his eyes and saw snowflakes landing on those dark-brown curls he loved.
As the smile on Tate’s face lit his warm eyes, Logan pressed their lips together and felt his heart pound—never could he have dreamed this for himself. Never could he have imagined Tate. But as he stood there in the snow, he realized that this man’s future—his dream—had started to morph into his own.
Chapter Thirty-One
Logan sat in the waiting room of University Hospital, tapping his foot impatiently.
Of course it had to happen today. Of course.
He glanced at the clock on the wall and ran a hand through his hair to grip the back of his neck. Why does shit always happen all at once? He looked at the empty seat beside him and grit his teeth.
The coffee he’d been handed ten minutes ago was as thick as sludge—and the same color too. As he stared intently at the door leading back to the halls beyond, he cursed that he was even back in this hospital in the first place, but there was nowhere else he’d rather be at that moment.
He heard his phone buzz inside his coat pocket and pulled it out to read the message. When he saw it, he grimaced. Not much I can do about that, he thought as he opened it and typed back: No, stay there. Text me when you can.
After hitting send, he sat back and crossed his ankles. Tate was right; he had no patience. He hated waiting for anything, and as he looked around once again, he remembered Cole telling him that Rachel’s contractions had started last night. It was now three in the afternoon.
Surely, that meant it would be over soon, right?
* * *
Tate parked Logan’s car in the garage of Leighton & Associates and picked his phone up. The text waiting for him made him chuckle. Logan was irked that he couldn’t be at the meeting they’d been called in for today with Finley, but at the same time, there was no way he wasn’t going to be at the hospital when his niece or nephew arrived.
Earlier, he’d given him a kiss, grumbling about timing and how it sucked, and then he’d handed over the keys to his car and said that he’d catch a taxi.
Tate hit call and unbuckled the seat belt as he waited several rings for it to connect.
“Hello.”
He laughed at the bored tone in Logan’s voice. “You’ve only been there an hour. Are you Uncle Logan yet?”
Logan let out a sigh. “No. And I know it’s only been an hour. But all of this waiting is painful.”
“Not as painful as it is for Rachel, I imagine.”
“Hilarious.”
“I thought so,” Tate replied, checking his phone for the time.
“I assume my car made it there in one piece?”
Tate glanced around the luxurious interior of the vehicle and nodded. “It did. As did the occupant, who you seem much less concerned with.”
“I figured if you can talk, you’re fine. But that doesn’t mean my baby is.”
Tate opened the car door and climbed out, locking it behind him. “Your baby? I’m starting to worry about you and your vehicles. Your truck is female. This one, I’m assuming, is also female. Should I be concerned you might be wanting to switch sides here?”
A boom of laughter came through the phone at that. “Tate?”
“Yeah?”
“You never have to worry about that. I happen to love the way your crankshaft works. Your piston sliding through my cylinder.”
Tate stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging open. “A filthy mind—that’s what you have.”
“Around you? Fucking count on it.”
He started walking again and then punched the up button on the elevator when he reached it. “You aren’t worried about Finley, are you?”
“No,” Logan answered a little too quickly, which had Tate’s lips twitching.
“Good. Because there’s nothing to worry about.”
Logan mumbled something unintelligible through the phone.
Tate said, “Hey?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to get this wrapped up and head right over there, okay?”
“Okay.”
He stepped into the elevator, and as the doors slid shut, he added, “Love you.”
Without missing a beat, Logan replied, “I love you too.”
* * *
“Logan?”
Logan opened his eyes at the sound of his name and found Tate striding down the hall toward him. He stood, smiling at the appearance of him and how damn good he looked. His cheeks were rosy from the cold, and snow was clinging to his hair in a way Logan was discovering he loved.
Tate gave him a solid hug and kissed his ear. “Before you feel the need to ask, your car is fine. She’s parked outside in the covered lot.”
“I wasn’t going to ask,” he said as they pulled apart and sat beside one another.
“Yeah, but not knowing would’ve killed you” Tate said with a laugh.
“I trust you.”
Tate bumped their shoulders together and grinned. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Mhmm. So, what happened? Why’d he want to see us today?”
Tate placed his ankle on his knee and angled his body toward him.
Logan narrowed his eyes and asked, “Was it good?”
Tate nodded. “It’s better than good.”
“Better?” he asked as Tate took his hands in his.
“Yes, better. They settled. They gave us exactly what we asked for.”
Logan’s eyes widened at the grin on Tate’s face. “You’re serious right now?”
“I’m dead serious. The insurance company agreed to pay the full amount without us having to take it to court.”
Logan sat up in his chair and grabbed his face. “That’s fucking awesome!”
“I know,” Tate said, laughing as Logan kissed him. When he pulled back, Tate lightly touched his chin. “Thank you.”
“Me? Why? I didn’t do anything. It kills me to say it, but we should be thanking Finley. He didn’t let up for a second. He threw out a number I wasn’t sure was even possible. And fuck, he got it for you.”
The wide smile on Tate’s mouth was so fucking contagious that Logan found himself laughing.
“
Happy?”
“I don’t know. I feel…” Tate’s words trailed off.
“Yeah?”
Tate leaned his forehead against his and said, “I feel like the luckiest person on the planet right now.”
Logan was about to answer, but they were interrupted.
“Hey, you two? Think you could keep your hands off each other for a few minutes to give me a hug for having the most handsome boy in all of Chicago as of thirty minutes ago?”
Logan turned his head and saw Cole standing with his hands spread wide in front of him and a proud-as-hell look on his face.
“A boy?” Logan asked as they both got to their feet.
“Damn right,” Cole boasted, walking over to them. As he embraced him, he asked, “Did you doubt it with my genes running through the child? Our stock produces men.”
Tate reached forward to shake Cole’s hand, and he pulled him into a hug.
“Glad you got here in time, Morrison.”
“Me too.”
“Where is the rest of the clan?” Logan asked as they followed Cole through the large doors.
“They’re on their way. Rachel didn’t want to call anyone until he was here. It was the only way to keep them out of the delivery room.”
“You called me,” Logan pointed out.
When they stopped at the door to Rachel’s room, he caught Cole’s “Really?” expression. “We both knew there was no way in hell you’d want to be in there.”
As Cole pushed the door open and stepped inside, Logan mumbled under his breath, “You’ve got that fucking right.”
Tate chuckled behind him.
“Like you weren’t thinking it.”
“Logan, Tate…” Rachel beamed at them.
“Well, hello there, Mrs. Madison,” Logan greeted, making his way around to the side of the bed to kiss her forehead.
She looked beautiful, but the dark circles under her usually vibrant eyes showed just how exhausted she was.