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.