Must Love Logs (Must Love Series Book 4)

by Xavier Neal

  Must Love Logs

  Xavier Neal

  Must Love Series #4

  Must Love Logs

  Must Love Series #4

  By Xavier Neal

  ©Xavier Neal 2019

  Cover by Dana Leah with Designs By Dana

  All Rights Reserved

  License Note

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without authorization from the author. Any distribution without express consent is illegal and punishable in a court of law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Subscribe to my newsletter!

  http://eepurl.com/bYqwLf

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Playlist Selects

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Other Works

  Thank You

  Social Media

  More Books By Me

  Dedication: To the Universe...Thank you for helping me build a career I love.

  Playlist Selects

  Here are six songs from the “Must Love Logs” playlist!

  Feel free to follow the playlist on Spotify to find more songs I felt related to the book.

  1. If You Want A Bad Boy – Brantley Gilbert (Country)

  2. Another Love Song – Ne-Yo (R&B)

  3. Now and Later – Sage The Gemini (Rap/Hiphop)

  4. Beautiful – Christina Aguilera (Pop)

  5. Cherry Pie – Warrant (Rock)

  6. Ol’ Macdonald – Frank Sinatra (Jazz)

  More songs: https://spoti.fi/2Mb5Xvv

  Chapter 1

  Thirty-two.

  Married.

  And about to poison the cherry pie I made my husband for dessert.

  “What the fuck do you mean you quit your job, Eddie?” I fold my arms firmly across my light brown sweater covered chest. “Is that your not so clever way of telling me you changed positions?”

  He gives the dark brown scruff on his jawbone a less than innocent scratch. “Nope.”

  Frustration balls my fists as it surges through my voice. “What the fuck do you mean nope?”

  My husband’s hands find their way to his dress pants pockets. “I mean…I more or less told my boss he could go fuck himself.”

  The retort widens my light brown eyes.

  “And just to be clear, I mean more not less.”

  Shock and consternation thrums through my narrowed vision.

  “He may have inferred I was a hillbilly moron, and I may have implied that it can’t be so bad if his wife is comin’ after my hard wood rather than his.”

  Solid comeback.

  Not that I’m going to admit that to him right now.

  “That uh…that’s probably the moment when the conversation went the direction of less professional resignation and more — be grateful security showed up when they did.”

  “You had to be escorted out by security?!”

  “No. He was worried he would need the protection of security to stop me from smashing his overpriced desk to pieces, using his face as a hammer.” Eddie villainously smirks. “Thought crossed my mind but bailin’ me out of jail didn’t sound like the way you would wanna spend your Friday night.”

  “And Dawn bailing me out of jail for trying to murder you, probably isn’t how she was plannin’ to spend hers.”

  His stoic face doesn’t twitch at the threat.

  Why am I surprised he did this? Over the nine years or so that we’ve been married he’s changed very little. So little that at times it makes me want to submit his photo and story to every women’s journal in an effort to remind females all across the world that age does not equate to maturity. If it did, he wouldn’t be standing in our kitchen, proud that he lost his temper and giving me his infamous unapologetic expression.

  “Edward Montgomery Shaw-”

  “Just listen, Cherry Pie-”

  “Do not Cherry Pie me right now!” My voice booms. “How the hell could you do this? Why the hell would you do this?” Leaning against the edge of the wooden kitchen table, which he handcrafted the first year of our marriage, I continue to chastise, “How the hell can you be this selfish? You do know you have a family to support, right? Or did that just slip your mind like the idea of consulting your wife before you make huge life changes?!”

  “You’re pissed.”

  “What gave it away, the smoke coming out of my goddamn ears or my nails turning into claws?”

  A crooked, cocky smirk crosses his lips. “The adorable way your nose scrunches.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut to prevent myself from screaming.

  How much poison makes it too obvious it was intentional rather than accidental?

  “Sienna,” his deep voice calmly calls to me. The second my eyes are open, he shrugs his broad shoulders that are barely being contained in his gray button-down shirt. “I had to quit.”

  “Providing for your family you had to quit, but smoking made it through?”

  Eddie’s expression darkens. “You really wanna do that shit now?”

  I don’t.

  But I don’t really wanna be homeless either.

  Not that we will, considering the news I got earlier…

  He releases a large breath. “Look, I know I should’ve talked to you first-”

  “Ya think?”

  “But it was jus’ time.”

  “Why? Why today?”

  “They wanted to give me another promotion.”

  Something most men would be thrilled about. Then again, Eddie Shaw has never been and will never be “most men”.

  “It would be more hours-”

  “How the fuck is that even possible?”

  “-more travel-”

  “You’re already gone at least one week every month.”

  “-and even less hands-on shit than I do now.”

  The pain in his voice sinks my shoulders.

  “You know I fuckin’ hate office bullshit, but I’ve done it. And I kept doin’ it for years. Because I wanted you to be able to stay home with our boys…Because I wanted them to have more shit than I had growin’ up…Because I wanted us to be financially well off, which we are.” He lets out another exasperated exhale. “This was it, Cherry Pie. This was the final moment. This was the mud that told me it was time to wash the truck. I knew if I said yes…if I took the promotion, I’d never love what I do again. And…” His head slowly shakes, “that jus’ ain’t right. Life’s too fuckin’ short for that shit.”

  His valid point makes it even more difficult to remain angry.

  Why couldn’t he be sexy and stupid rather than sexy, stubborn, and smart as hell?

  “We’ve got enough saved up to get us by while I find something else.”

  “What if you don’t?”

  Anger instantly builds in his brown stare. “You don’t think I can find another job?”

  “I meant,” my voice snips as a reminder for him to watch his own tone, “what if you stay home with the boys, and I work full time?”

  Confusion cloaks his face.

  “I um…well…I got o
ffered a full-time position at this pastry shop in Highland-”

  “When did you start applying for jobs?”

  “Well-”

  “And why?” The increase in irritation is apparent. “Did you think we needed help? Did you think I wasn’t making enough for us? For our family? Was there shit you wanted to buy or have that you think we couldn’t afford?”

  Same out-of-date worries, new day.

  At first, having a man who wanted traditional shit like to pay for everything and me not to work while raising our children was…nice. I didn’t mind and still don’t — the way he loves to open doors, order for us both, and lets me do the cooking despite the fact he can. Truthfully, I enjoy that he wants to take care of me in those aspects. However, the pressure he puts on himself to be the only person who can finically support this family is ridiculous. It’s not like I don’t have any skills. It’s not like I mind using them. It’s not like us both working means he’s not being a “real man”. Sadly, it’s an age-old argument we’ve been going through since Kenny, our oldest, turned four, and I began throwing around the idea that maybe once he started elementary school, I could work part time. Now he’s seven, his brother Kyle is six, and they’re both in school, which leaves my days to pass doing mountains of laundry, mindless cleaning, and trying to recreate shit I saw on shows like Cupcake Wars. Don’t get me wrong. I love being able to be there for my sons at the drop of a dime, but does it make me some sort of monster for wanting…more?

  “Answer me.”

  Eddie’s demand is met with a disapproving scowl. Regardless of the fact most people cower at his 6’5 height and very large frame, I don’t.

  Never have.

  Never will.

  Not only because I know without a single doubt in my mind he’d never harm me, but because much like him, I don’t back down from anything or anyone.

  We’re two stubborn peas bumping into each other for more in our pod.

  And our boys are not any better.

  The amount of stalemates in this house are Guinness Book of World Records high.

  “Answer. Me.”

  “When you calm your ass down and talk to me like your wife instead of one of your younger brothers, I sure the hell will.”

  He takes in a long, deep breath and tries again, “Why’d you apply for a job, Sienna?”

  “Didn’t.” The casualness of my answer is accompanied by a shrug. “Dawn had me make her this cheesecake for a baby shower, and one of the women owns her own pastry shop. Apparently, her business is growing and expanding, and she would love some help. Someone who can be hands-on with the baking, the catering, and the clients while she balances the boring technical side of shit and experiments with new culinary creations. Dawn gave me her number, and I…called today.”

  His silence encourages me to continue.

  “I really just wanted to hear what she had to say about my dessert. You know I fucking eat that shit up.”

  Eddie offers me a small grin.

  “With a platinum spoon.”

  “Which cheesecake was it?”

  “Brownie Bottom Cookie Dough.”

  He groans in delight. “Fuck, that’s a good one. Now I’m hungry.”

  The eyeroll he receives is attached to a smirk. “Anyways, she praised the treat, I told my infamous Easy Bake Oven story, and next thing I know, she offered me a job. It’s salary and more than enough for us to live on. We wouldn’t be struggling financially or even need to dip into our savings.”

  “Did you take it?”

  While I wish I could be offended he assumed I would do the very thing I just yelled at him for doing, I can’t. Because I did. But my decision was something positive…even if it was equally as impulsive.

  My lack of response receives a nod. “Let me get this straight, Cherry Pie. You yell at me for making a life-changing decision without consulting you, yet you did the exact same shit?”

  I purse my lips to one side and give my chin a gentle tap in fake contemplation.

  It hasn’t escaped me what a hypocritical bitch that makes me. I’m just ignoring it.

  Instead of erupting in enmity, Eddie unleashes a roaring laugh. The beautifully deep sound continues until I can’t resist joining in.

  Eventually, he shakes his head, chuckles still bouncing his frame. “Have we always been this ridiculous?”

  “Pretty much. Except when we first got together, we were fighting over who bought terrible concert tickets and the wrong kind of beer.”

  “Stand by my previous statement. The Arctic Monkeys were not worth driving across the fucking country to see.”

  “And yet, you did.”

  His body gravitates closer to mine. “For you, Cherry Pie. You know there’s not much you can’t convince me to do.”

  “One way or another…” My wink causes us both to snicker. More tension dissipates, and I softly sigh, “I get it, Eddie. You were…miserable.”

  “I was. And I miss time with you, which you were always rightfully complainin’ about. I also missed the fuck out of our boys. Seeing them before school. Having to skip family dinners or jus’ catch the tail end of ‘em. Fuck, how many Sundays in a row with Runt have I missed now? Last week, I had to cancel our yearly huntin’ trip. Him nor Big Foot were exactly excited to get that call…” Concern plops onto his shoulders. “You know Runt’s gettin’ married in a few weeks…and then his own son will be born shortly after that…I just,” his hand strokes the scruff once more, “I don’t wanna lose my family because of work.”

  “That’s understandable.” A small beat passes before I add, “But I’m tired of feeling like the only thing I have in my life is family.”

  Worry remains in his gaze.

  “I want…more, Eddie. It’s not that I don’t love being a mom or a wife or a sister in law or a best friend…I just…I want this for me.” The firmness in my tone increases. “I want something that’s mine. I want something I am excited about.”

  “You’re not excited to be my wife or the mother of our kids?”

  “That’s a different type. What I want…what I need is something else. Something that’ll help fulfill me in ways that I haven’t been in years.”

  “I know that shit isn’t sexually related, but you can kinda see how it sounds that way, right?”

  My disapproving shake of the head is accompanied by a small smile.

  “You need this for you,” Eddie echoes closing the gap between us, “and I need to stay away from corporate bullshit for me.”

  I promptly nod.

  “We’ll figure this shit out.” His hands land on my blue jean-covered hips. “I’ll gladly do the stay-at-home dad thing and find something that’s part time with flexible hours. Hell, I’m sure there are plenty of people in need of a Mr. Fix It.”

  “You’re gonna throw away your contractor career to become a handy man?”

  He gives me a small head bob. “Maybe. We’ll see what works with raisin’ the boys. You know they always come first.”

  They do. It’s one of those things I adore about him. Even if his job made it hard for him to be a more active parent, he’s always tried his best. Giving them everything he could whenever he could. Their wants and needs have always come before ours, which is why I think being a stay-at-home dad will be great for him.

  Once he learns the ropes.

  And contrary to the easy picture I’m sure he’s cooked up in his thick head, there are many, many ropes.

  “Speaking of the boys, since they’re not home from school yet,” Eddie’s fingers snake down the outside of my jeans to grab my ass, “what do you say we squeeze in a quickie?”

  I immediately deny the request. “There’s no such thing as a quickie with you, Superman.”

  “Now that sounds like a complaint.”

  “It wasn’t.” He hums his suspicion at the same time his mouth lowers to the crook of my neck. It successfully steals one sweet suck before I’m poorly attempting to push him away. “Superman…”

/>   His teeth lightly scrape the side of my neck, hitting the trail of hot spots that have a habit of turning my no into a yes. On instinct, my thighs tighten together in hopes of preventing my pussy from increasing in wetness. Eddie’s tongue joins the teasing, tenderly touching the skin until it transforms the thrilling temptation into a form of titillating torture. The moment his hot breath lands on my ear, I know he’s going to win the war. “How about you let me have dessert early in the day?”