Trust (Temptation #3)(108)
* * *
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…”