Trust (Temptation #3)(99)
Logan chewed his bottom lip and then pushed his glasses up his nose.
Tate chuckled. “Nervous?”
“No,” he dismissed immediately, but when Tate took a step toward him, Logan backed up.
“I don’t believe you.”
Logan’s legs hit the side of the bed, and as Tate brushed a soft kiss across his lips, Logan groaned. Damn, this fantasy was pushing every single button of his, including the one inside his chest.
When Tate raised his head and licked his lips, he moved even closer, and Logan had no choice but to sit down. Then Tate sat beside him, giving him an oh-so-innocent look.
“Relax, would you? I’m not going to make you do anything while my father’s home. I’m a good Catholic boy, remember?”
Logan’s eyes narrowed on the tease next to him, and when Tate started to play the guitar, he thought how lucky he was that the cheeky flirt was his.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Monday afternoon, Tate found himself on the phone with Logan, trying to decide if he wanted to go out to dinner or have people over. He looked at the dining room table and scratched his chin. “Do you think we can fit that many people in here?”
“Ten? Yeah, I think we can squeeze them in. Adults in the dining room, and if they don’t all fit, I’ll just make Cole eat with the other kids by the coffee table.”
Tate walked over to the new table Logan had bought a couple of weeks ago and agreed. “Okay. That could work. What about food and drinks? Do you need me to go and pick up supplies?”
“Rachel assured me that she is taking care of dessert, and Mason is bringing the food. If you want to go and pick up some drinks, I can’t think of anyone more qualified.”
Tate glanced at his watch and asked, “What time is everyone coming over?”
“We were thinking around seven or eight? What do you think?”
Tate laughed. “I’m good anytime.”
“I agree with that most definitely,” Logan told him, his voice dropping until it felt like a smooth caress over his skin. “You’re good for morning, nooners, and night.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get your mind out of my pants. I’ll have everything ready by seven. You can decide on the time, but, Logan?”
“Yes?”
“Give yourself an hour leeway, okay?”
“Why’s that?”
Tate walked into the bedroom to grab his wallet so he could head out to the liquor store. “I’ve been a little stiff today. I might need your help getting ready.”
“Is that right? In that case I’ll be there at five thirty and not a minute later.”
“I think that’s more than enough time,” he joked.
“Trust me. There’s never enough time for that.”
“I’ll see you at five thirty, then?”
“Yes, you will,” Logan promised.
“Hang up the phone, Logan.”
“You hang up the phone.”
“I’m going. Goodbye.”
“Bye.”
Tate laughed and felt a stupid smile stretch his lips as he made himself hang up, and then he slid the phone into his back pocket. Okay, I can do this, he thought as he looked around the room. A night with Logan’s family wasn’t something that would generally stress him out. But the thought of seeing Rachel was making him anxious.
He just needed to get it over with, talk to her, make sure she knew he was okay, and then everything could get back to normal. Right? He grabbed his coat off the rack and made his way out the door to purchase some of his and Logan’s favorite men.
* * *
“Hey,” Logan called out as Cole walked by his office.
He stopped and stuck his blond head in the door, his eyebrows raised.
“Eight work for you tonight?”
Cole glanced down at his watch and stepped inside. “Eight works. You sure he’s up to this after the trip? If he’s not, we can wait and do it next week.”
Logan lowered the pen he was writing with to the desk. “He said he’s fine. I think he’s looking forward to it. Having friends around. Speaking of…” he began, and when Cole looked at him expectantly, Logan continued. “Is Rachel going to be okay with him tonight? He’s noticed the weirdness going on there.”
Cole wandered farther into the office and shut the door. When he turned back to face him, Logan sat back in his chair, this time waiting on him to speak.
“I honestly don’t know how she’ll be tonight.”
Cole’s expression was one Logan hated to see. It was also one he recognized—one full of worry. His brother sat on the couch and looked over at him for a few silent seconds before continuing.
“You know, day in and day out, she’s the same Rachel she’s always been. But the second I bring up the accident or you call or Tate’s name is even mentioned, it’s like she… Fuck, I don’t know, Logan,” he said, shaking his head and rubbing a hand over his face. “She zones out and gets this expression on her face. It’s fucking heartbreaking. Like she’s seeing it, reliving it all over again, and I ask her about it and she says she’s fine. But I know she’s not. I’m about at my wit’s end over it.”