Lifting his hand, Logan gestured for him to enter, and as the door was pushed farther open, Cole’s face changed from serious to a shit-eating grin. Behind him stood Tate, looking anything but comfortable, and he was currently glaring at him around Cole’s large frame.
I’m going to kill him, Logan thought as his eyes met his brother’s.
As Cole strolled into the room, he unbuttoned his perfectly pressed black jacket and pushed his hands into his pockets.
Motherfucker is having a great time.
Tate, on the other hand, looked strained as if he were visiting the dentist. He moved two steps into the office and stayed as close to the far wall as possible.
What did Cole say to him?
Logan’s attention moved to Cole, who was standing by the corner of his desk, pretending to look at the mail in the tray sitting there. It was so unlike his stuffed-shirt brother to be taking the time to nose around the way he was, so Logan knew something was up, and not in a good way. It was more like an I’m-about-to-fuck-with-you kind of way.
Logan carefully looked to Tate, who was staring at the red helmet in his hand and had his other one stuffed into his jeans. He was wearing a white shirt with that sexy leather jacket, and when Logan finally tore his focus away from him and turned back to Cole, his brother raised a brow and then opened his fucking mouth.
“Mr. Morrison said you called him about a business meeting today.”
Logan narrowed his eyes on Cole as he pushed his chair back from the desk and stood. Buttoning his own jacket, he made his way around to where Cole was.
“Yes, that’s right. We need to go over a few things.”
Cole turned toward him, and pulled his mouth into a thin line while dropping several envelopes back into the tray on Logan’s desk. Silently, he inclined his head and made his way back to the door and past Tate, who still hadn’t said a word but was looking at Cole with no expression on his face at all.
Cole acknowledged him, opened the door, and at the last moment, looked back.
He then addressed Logan in a voice that made him want to throw something at him.
“Funny that I wasn’t informed about this meeting since I handle Mrs. Morrison’s—oh, I’m sorry, his ex’s case.”
Logan continued his die-now stare.
Cole turned to Tate and told him in his controlled-as-fuck voice—asshole had that down to a T—“If he doesn’t give you all the answers you came in for, make sure you let me know, and I will try my hardest to clear things up.”
“Get out, asshole,” Logan advised, looking on his desk for something to throw.
“Going,” Cole replied over his shoulder, leaving the office and closing the door behind him.
Logan stared across the wide space to where Tate was pinning him with a fuck-you look if ever he’d seen one. Crossing his arms over his chest, Logan rested back against the desk behind him and perched his ass on the surface. He crossed his legs out in front of him and remained silent as Tate continued to fume. Just when Logan figured he would have to be the one to say something, Tate took a step forward.
“What did you tell him about us?” he spit out at Logan.
That right there, Logan knew, was Tate’s biggest fear, presented to him like a giant fucking billboard. The thought of people knowing exactly what he’d done and enjoyed the night before—
Screw that, Logan thought. Time for a reality check, Mr. Morrison.
* * *
Tate was mortified, and he was pissed. He knew coming here was a terrible idea, but he’d stupidly let Logan and his silver tongue talk him into doing it anyway. As soon as he had stepped off the elevator and told the receptionist he was there to see Logan, Tate had been instructed to go straight through. Halfway inside the actual offices, he’d run into the tall blond guy, whose name he couldn’t remember, that he’d first seen at the bar, and second, at his fucking ex-wife’s meeting.
At first, Logan’s partner had sized him up as if he were trying to remember if he had forgotten something, and then Tate had watched his shrewd—yes, they are definitely shrewd— eyes almost smile, if it were possible for eyes to do so.
“How can I help you today, Mr. Morrison? I didn’t realize we had a meeting?”
The minute that had come out of his mouth, Tate had known he was screwed. He’d stammered around his words and pretty much tripped all over the damn place until he’d finally told the lie that he was called by Logan.
Something on the guy’s face had given away the fact that he knew Tate was lying, and Tate had felt the heat in his cheeks as he followed, like an obedient child, to Logan’s office. As if that wasn’t enough, the interaction that had then taken place inside the office had confirmed everything.