Текст книги "Trust"

Автор книги: Ella Frank

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

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.”

Logan sat forward in his chair and suggested, “Maybe after she sees him, she’ll feel better?”

“I don’t know. She saw him before he was released and she still…”

“But that was different. He was still surrounded by all the medical stuff. He’s great now. She’ll see. Maybe then she can try to move past it. Then again, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the way he looked, Cole, and that wasn’t even the actual accident.”

Cole grimaced. “I know. She’s such a strong woman, and she’s been through so much already. But I’ve never seen her like this, and she won’t talk to me about it, which is completely unlike her. She skirts around the issue, and she won’t tell me how she’s really feeling. Christ,” he cursed.

Logan stood, coming around the desk. He walked over to where Cole was sitting with his head in his hands and sat beside him, putting a palm on his back.

“Hey?”

Cole looked over at him, and Logan tried for a smile.

“You need to throw up? I can get my garbage can.”

Cole flipped him off. “No. But thanks for the offer. You do owe me.”

Logan had never been more serious than when he agreed, “I know I do. Bring your wife over tonight. Let her see him, talk to him. Then we’ll see how she does, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Logan clapped him on the back, and when they both stood, Logan adjusted his jacket and asked, “You still keeping the baby’s sex a big secret?”

“Yes. So don’t try to weasel it out of me.”

“But you’re usually so easy to crack. You don’t even realize it until you’ve let it slip.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you really are,” Logan disagreed.

Cole opened the door. “That’s only because you’re a smooth-talking bastard. You circle the issue so much that, before a person knows it, you’re back on point and tricking us into telling you everything.”

“What can I say? It’s a gift.”

“A gift it may be, but you won’t succeed this time. So get back to work, would you? We have a business to run. I’ll see you at eight.”

Logan waved as Cole walked out, telling him, “Don’t come early—got it?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it with you. Just be decent by eight.”

Logan cocked his head to the side. “I can promise to be dressed, but not decent.”

Cole smirked. “As always, it’s been a pleasure, brother.”

Logan closed the door behind him and felt his smile drop from his face. He was trying to keep a good front for Cole, but he wasn’t sure if seeing Tate would help Rachel. He knew how affected he’d been after everything that had happened. But Rachel? She’d been there.

How did you ever un-see something like that?

Everyone arrived at or around eight, and as Logan took their coats and showed them into the kitchen area to reheat food, grab a drink, or find a place for the dessert in the fridge, Tate surveyed the crowd of people who had somehow become part of his extended family.

Shelly was sitting on the couch with her daughter, Savannah, on her lap, and beside her sat Mason and Lena’s little girl, Catherine. The girls were both dressed as princesses and giggling at something Shelly had just said. When she looked over at him, Tate was amazed that this was the same woman who’d been so professional in the hospital when she’d visited and, at the same time, the woman who’d been so outlandish at game night months ago.

Her husband, Josh, was chatting with Cole and Lena, who were both sipping on cocktails. Logan was standing with Mason in the kitchen, and Rachel, who was holding a piping bag arched up over a cake, had a fierce look of determination on her face.

So far, he’d been skirting the issue of approaching her, and he hated that. Every time they’d been left standing beside one another, she would give him a timid smile and then excuse herself, and he would do, well, something other than stand there trying to think of what to say.

But it was time to man up. What am I afraid of? A tiny pregnant woman? As he got closer, though, he rethought that. Okay, maybe he was a little scared of her.

“This is amazing, Rachel.”

She was focused on what she was doing as she bent down to write his name across the cake in a cursive style. The apron she was wearing was black, and in white writing across her pregnant belly were the words, Your opinion wasn’t in the recipe, which was so much like the fun, outspoken woman he knew. It saddened him that, each time he got close, she clammed up and fled the scene.

Once she’d finished his name, she glanced up at him and that sad look, the one she always got around him now, entered her eyes.

Tate tilted his head to the side and reached for her arm, and when she took a deep breath, he asked softly, “Do you think we could talk for a minute?”

She scanned the room, but when there was apparently no plausible way for her to say no, she nodded. Tate caught Logan watching them from across the kitchen.

“How about we go out on the balcony? Let me grab your coat.”

“Okay,” she said as she untied the apron and removed it.

Tate left to get the black-and-white-zebra-print coat she’d walked in with, and when he got back to the living room, he saw her standing over by the sliding doors, waiting for him. He spotted Cole sipping on his scotch, and when he gave a nod of his head, Tate held her coat up for her to slip into before he opened the door.

As they stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air hit his cheeks, and Tate shoved his hands into his pockets. She walked over to the railing, and as he stood there, surrounded by the city lights, he wondered where on Earth to start.

“Think they’re gonna make out?” Logan asked as he stopped by Cole and looked toward the sliding door Tate had just closed.

His brother turned toward him with a wry look on his face, and when he raised his glass to take a sip, Logan winked.

“Really though. How do you think that’ll go?”

Cole shrugged, and Logan noticed Shelly watching the two of them. As a look of understanding appeared in her eyes, she ran a hand down the back of her daughter’s hair and gave them a small smile.

“She’s a contradiction, isn’t she?” Logan mused.

“Shelly?” Cole asked as he leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Yeah, I guess she is.”

“She was pretty fantastic when Tate was in the hospital,” he said, stopping to look at the people laughing in his living room. “You were all pretty amazing.”

Cole reached over and clapped his shoulder. “That’s what family does, Logan. We come together in a crisis. Whether you want us there or not.”

Having never really been part of a family, the sense of belonging that welled up inside him was overwhelming. He swallowed the rest of his drink, and as he was about to make up some excuse to leave Cole’s prying eyes, he heard him say, “I’m really happy for you. You know that?”

Logan glanced over at him and tried to lighten the mood in his usual way—sarcasm. “I think Rachel’s hormones are rubbing off on you. You’ve become very emotional lately.”

Cole pushed off the wall and went over to put his glass on the kitchen counter. “I mean it, Logan. I had no idea if you’d ever, I don’t know, settle down—”

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There are no rings happening and no…” Ugh. Logan felt a shiver race up his spine. Children for God’s sake.

Just as he thought it, the little blonde sitting on Shelly’s lap started screaming at the top of her lungs. Cole started laughing, clearly at his expression, and Logan shook his head.

“Hell no. I am not settling down. I’m living with my amazing, sexy boyfriend—”

“Who you love very much and are in a monogamous relationship with.”

Logan didn’t balk, but instead nodded. “Yes. And your point is?”

“My point is, that is settling down. It doesn’t always have to be a ring or a baby.”

“Thank God for that. ’Cause I don’t think I’m ready for a diamond ring just yet.”

“You’re such a smartass,” Cole said. “All I’m saying is that settling down can be unique to whoever it’s applying to. And I think you two are pretty damn close to entwining your lives.”

Logan eyed Cole’s empty glass and gave a false smile. “I think you need another drink. And to go and talk to someone who has a baby and…oh, I don’t know, ovaries?”

Cole rolled his eyes and waved his hand at him. “I’m going, and no more to drink for me, thanks. I’m driving home.”

As Logan watched his brother walk over to sit opposite Josh and his wife, he thought about what he’d just said. About things being unique to certain couples.

The idea of settling down with Tate wasn’t one that scared him at all, but when he caught himself staring at the glass door that led out to the balcony, he wondered how they could make that unique to just them.

Tate stood beside Rachel as they looked down at the bustling street below. He was trying to decide the best way to start the conversation he wanted to have, and every opening line he ran through his mind felt wrong.

He wondered how, on the same day he’d lost a sister, he’d managed to gain someone who was just as important and helped to ease that void.

Rachel certainly had been a surprise in his life, and with the wind blowing the loose hair around her face, he finally opened his mouth and said the one thing that had been bothering him.

“I hate how you don’t talk to me anymore.”

Surprisingly, Rachel had tears in her eyes when she faced him. “When I first met Logan, I remember thinking how free he was. I also remember thinking he was an arrogant jackass, but mostly how accepting he was. Never judgmental…” she said.

Tate settled back against the railing and looked her in the eye.

“I married Cole pretty much a week after knowing him. Mason? He flipped his lid. I mean, he gave us such a hard time. And you know what Logan’s reaction was?”

Tate could only imagine.

“He caught us on top of Cole’s desk and casually wandered in, dropped a file on it, and told us to continue so Cole could get back to using it for its proper function.” Rachel laughed at the memory.

“That sounds like him.” Tate smirked.

She agreed, and then her lips pulled into a tight line. “He was always that guy. Totally carefree, someone different in his life all the time, and he never brought anyone to meet us—never spoke about anyone. Not until you.”

Tate reached over to the hands she was wringing in front of herself and slipped them between his own as she continued to talk.

“He’s my family, and I fully supported whatever he wanted to do with his life. Cole and I, we love him so much. And then you came along.” Rachel smiled at him then, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She turned her hands over to hold his and gave them a gentle shake. “And you’re perfect for him, Tate. You’re perfect with him, and that day…”

She swallowed and tried to fight back a soft gasp of air. “I thought I lost you that day. He’d sent you to me, trusted me, and all I could think was how could I ever face him if I lost you. How could I tell him I failed. God, Tate,” she sobbed and brought a hand to her mouth. “I’d been so happy about everything, and then I watched you get on that bike, and before I could see the car or tell you…you…” Her rush of words came to a standstill as her body shook.

Tate pulled her forward to wrap her in his arms, and her small hands went around his waist, her belly bumping into him. He placed his lips to her head and kissed it.

“Aww, Rachel. It’s okay. I’m okay,” he whispered, rocking with her on the balcony. “It wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

“But—”

“No. There was nothing—do you hear me? You saved me that day. You got the plate number of the other car, got out of the cab, and came down and held my hand. You were extremely brave under the worst possible conditions—and you saved me for him.”

Tears rolled down her wind-chilled cheeks, and Tate put his finger under her chin and lifted it.

“You need to stop punishing yourself for something that was out of your control. I’m fine, see?” he said, releasing her to hold his hands out to his sides.

She swiped the tears from her face and pursed her lips. “If I answer that, Logan will be upset with me.”

Tate winked at her and looped an arm around her shoulder. “Well, we don’t have to tell him.” When they got to the door, he looked down at her and said, “And I heard that he used to call you Hot Cheetah Pants, so if anyone’s going to get upset...”

Rachel laughed, and this time, her entire face lit up. That’s when Tate felt the weight he’d been carrying around all night lift from his shoulders and disappear into the Chicago evening air.

A little after midnight, Logan crawled into bed and felt Tate shift and settle against his side. He’d just finished cleaning the kitchen after having sent Tate to rest, and when he’d locked up, walked into the bedroom, and seen him already asleep, Logan made sure to be extra quiet undressing and getting in beside him.

Everyone had left an hour or so ago, and the night, as far as he was concerned, had been a success. Rachel and Tate seemed to have worked out their differences, and Cole’s tense look from the past few weeks had disappeared with the reappearance of his happy wife.

Logan felt Tate’s hair against his side as he rolled over in the bed and his warm breath ghosted over his chest. He brought his arm down around him, and as they fit against one another, Logan closed his eyes and said softly into the room, “I love you.”

He wasn’t expecting a response, but as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, he was sure he heard Tate whisper, “Love you too.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Tate rubbed his hands together as he waited under the awning of his and Logan’s building. The wind was really howling this afternoon, and as he pulled the collar up on his coat, he spotted Logan’s silver Audi R8 making its way down the street toward him.

It was one o’clock, and they were scheduled to meet up with the lawyer, Finley, over at Leighton & Associates. Cole had recommended the guy as the best in the business when it came to personal injury claims, so he’d set up a meeting a couple of days ago. Since then, Tate had thought of little else.

When Logan pulled the car to a stop, Tate walked over to the curb and opened the door. He slid inside and brought his hands up to his mouth to blow on them as the locks clicked. Then he turned his head to see Logan as polished and put together as always in his business suit.

“Shit, it’s cold out there today,” he said, unzipping his jacket and putting his hands against the vents of the heater.

“And here I was just thinking how hot you looked.”

Tate glanced over at him and winked. “Pretty sure that would be you, not me. I feel like a fucking icicle.”

“Why did you wait outside? I would’ve text you when I got here.”

“I was only out there for a minute or two, but damn. I always forget how cold it gets here.”

Logan put the car in gear and agreed. “I know. Why do we live here again?”

Tate snickered. “I ask myself the same thing every year. And this no-transportation deal is driving me crazy. I really need to get a car and soon. I can’t keep having you drive across the city to get me.”

“I don’t mind coming to get you.” Logan reached across the seat and stroked his thigh. “Not ever.”

Tate sat back and buckled his seat belt. “Well, I care. You can’t keep carting my sorry ass around the city. You have a job, and soon, I’ll be going back to work. I need a way to get around.”

Logan flicked his indicator on and checked over his shoulder before merging into the flow of traffic. “I know. And I have to say… I like that you said a car—a vehicle with doors and a roof. That eases my mind slightly.”

“Slightly?”

When Logan ran his eyes over him and gave a rueful grin, Tate covered the hand he still had resting on his thigh.

“I’m pretty sure it’s going to take years before I’m completely worry-free. Maybe forever.”

“I can understand that.”

Logan removed his hand to change gears as he slowed at a red light and then gave him a serious look. “Good.”

As the light changed to green and they started up again, Tate looked out the window at the cars beside him and asked, “What do you know about this guy Finley?”

“Not a whole lot. Cole’s worked with him a few times, and I trust him. Says he’s a bit of a pit bull when it comes to winning, but that’s what you want in this kind of case.”

“Sounds good to me,” Tate said and turned to study Logan’s side profile. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Everything. I don’t know. Choosing me.”

“For choosing you?” Logan asked with a laugh.

“Yeah,” Tate nodded, and then he raised his eyebrows suggestively. “You had a lot of…options. I don’t think I ever thanked you for being such a persistent pain in my ass.”

Logan turned the car into a parking garage and let down the window to take a ticket. When he gave it to him and clasped his hand, he shook his head and said so seriously that it made Tate catch his breath, “After I saw you, there was no one else. Now, put this somewhere fun for me to find later, would you?”

Tate made a show of lifting his hips and putting it in his back pocket.

As Logan drove in under the boom gate, he said, “See? No one else would ever do. You totally get me.”

Twenty minutes later, Logan sat beside Tate in the conference room they’d been shown into and unbuttoned his jacket. He looked around at the décor, and while it was elegant and comfortable enough for clients, he was egotistical enough to note that their office was much more impressive. As he turned his head in Tate’s direction, he saw him watching his inspection.

“What?” he asked.

“Sizing up the competition, Mr. Mitchell?”

Logan rested an arm on the table in front of him as he angled his body toward Tate. “Always. Honestly, our relationship aside, would you want to do business in this conference room or ours?”

Tate let out a low chuckle. “You’re so competitive.”

“I am not.”

“Yes. You are.”

Logan arched an eyebrow and pointed a finger at him. “You didn’t answer the question.”

Tate rubbed his chin. “Putting our relationship aside and the fact that I have extremely vivid memories of the first time I was ever in your conference room?”

“Yes. Putting aside all of that.”

Tate scrunched his nose up in mock disgust. “Then the truth is I never would’ve kissed you in this room. I was much more impressed by the size of yours.”

Logan laughed and dropped his gaze to Tate’s lips. He was about to speak when the door to the room opened, and Tate’s new lawyer finally joined them.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen.”

Logan turned his head in the direction of the voice. When his eyes landed on the tall, good-looking blond who’d just entered the room, his mouth fell open. There, standing in front of them, was—

“I’m Daniel. Daniel Finley.”

Logan felt his eyes widen in shock at the man who was currently looking between the two of them, and as he pulled the chair out opposite them, Logan tried to work out what the fuck was going on.

This is Finley? The same fucking guy who was with Robbie that night at Whipped?

He pivoted in his seat to face Tate and saw that he had the same shocked-as-shit expression. When he looked back at the man who was now sitting with a crooked grin on his face, he wondered if this was some kind of joke.

“Now this is a happy coincidence. I had no idea that the Mr. Morrison and Mr. Mitchell I was meeting with today were the two of you.”

“The hell you didn’t,” Logan couldn’t stop himself from saying, and he felt Tate sit up a little straighter in the chair beside him when he let out the obscene curse he’d been holding in.

Daniel…Finley…or whoever the fuck he is, Tate thought, opened the file, and as he ran his eyes down the information inside, he pushed a piece of his shoulder-length hair behind his ear. Tate shifted to see Logan pin him with a “can you fucking believe this” look of his own.

“Funny thing is, I didn’t know that Cole had a brother,” Finley stated without looking up from what he was reading.

“Apparently, there were several things neither of us was aware of.”

Logan’s tone was so frosty that Tate was surprised that, when he reached over and took his hand, it was warm instead of ice cold. Then Finley lifted his head, and when he locked eyes with Logan, Tate was torn between running interference and wanting to watch them lock horns with one another.

“I’m sorry. Are you implying that I just lied to you, Mr. Mitchell?”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m positive you knew exactly who Cole’s brother and business partner was before you walked through that door today.”

“And you? You didn’t do a little background checking before you came in? I find that hard to believe.”

Tate eyed the man who was holding Logan’s stare, and the air in the room thrummed with angry testosterone. He remembered the confident way this Daniel guy had practically invited them to his bed months ago, and so, apparently, did Logan.

“No. I didn’t. I trusted my brother’s judgment. Clearly, that was a mistake.”

“What’s the problem here?” Daniel asked. “That I’m one up on you? Because I’m not averse to you being up on me—either of you for that matter.”

“That’s it. Let’s go,” Logan said as he turned toward Tate.

Tate pushed back in his chair and got to his feet, knowing that the annoyance lighting those brilliant eyes had to be matching his own irritation.

Apparently, this guy isn’t deterred by the word no.

Daniel also stood, placing his fingertips on the table as he studied both of them carefully. Then, as if he hadn’t just blatantly hit on Logan, he dismissed him and addressed Tate.

“I read your case. Do you want to win or do you want to lose?”

Tate glared at him, trying to see past the urge to plant his fist in his smarmy face.

“If you do the smart thing here and hire wisely, you have a great chance of walking away with a substantial settlement. You were the victim in a horrendous motor vehicle accident—”

“Which is another reason we don’t want to be fucked around with by you,” Logan stated as he moved to stand behind his chair. “We’ve been through enough.”

Daniel eyed Logan. “I don’t believe I was asking you.”

“Why don’t you go fuck your—”

“I don’t like you,” Tate interrupted, finally speaking up. “I didn’t like you the first time we met, and I don’t like you now. But apparently, you’re the best.”

Straightening to his full height, Daniel slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I am.”

Tate looked over to Logan, whose jaw was ticking in frustration and annoyance. He knew he was raging mad, but Tate also knew that, if they wanted to win, they needed the smug prick standing in front of them.

“I want to win,” he announced and faced Daniel. “And if you can do that, then we’ll work with you.”

A victorious smile stretched across his face.

Then Tate placed his palms on the table and lowered his voice to one he barely recognized. “But the next time you feel the urge to invite us to your bed, squash it or I’m going to put my fist in your face. Got it? We aren’t interested. Not then, not now, not fucking ever. Am I being clear enough for you?”

Daniel’s eyes shifted to behind him, where he knew Logan was standing, but he didn’t dare look away. When Daniel’s eyes came back to his, he gave a slow nod.

“Got it.”

“Good. Now that we know who you are, your pricing, and your…practices, we’ll be in touch,” Tate said as he stood and found Logan glaring at him.

This time, though, there was something other than anger mixed with the fire blazing behind those glasses of his. Arousal?

“Ready to go?”

Logan didn’t take his eyes off him as he silently nodded, completely ignoring the other man in the room. Tate took his hand, and as they made their way around the table and toward the door, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction settle inside him.

As long as Finley was clear on who belonged to whom, then he had no problem what-so-fucking-ever working with the guy—especially if he was going to win.

Logan remained silent in the elevator as he and Tate traveled down to the parking garage. He was trying to calm his blood pressure, but every time he thought about that arrogant jerk upstairs, he wanted to—

“Hey?”

Tate’s voice broke through his irritated musings, and when he looked over at him and saw the possessive way he was eyeing him, Logan felt the adrenaline that was riding him course through his veins. He wasn’t a fan of being made a fool of, and he was even less of a fan of being cut off and not speaking his mind.

But hell, it was hot watching Tate tell Finley to fuck off.

“You okay?”

He didn’t reply as the elevator hit the ground floor. Instead, he pushed off the wall and pinned Tate with a no-nonsense look. And when the metal doors parted, he strode out into the cement underground.

He knew he needed to mellow, but when he remembered the way Finley had sauntered into the meeting today, it pissed him off even more.

Conceited fuck.

As he continued to walk through the rows of cars, he wondered how long Tate would let him simmer until—yes, there it is—a firm hand clamped around his arm and pulled him off the road, backing him up to a large pillar.

When his shoulders and ass met the cool surface, Logan angled his chin up and made sure to keep his eyes connected with Tate’s.

“I asked you a question,” Tate said, placing a hand on the cement block just over his shoulder.

“I’m aware,” Logan replied, and even though he knew that it wasn’t Tate’s fault, he couldn’t seem to help himself—he was spoiling for a fight. “Am I allowed to respond or are you going to cut me off and speak for me?”

Tate narrowed his eyes on him as he took a step forward and fit his foot between his own. “You’re pissed.”

Logan bit his tongue to stop himself from saying something along the lines of, “No shit.” It would be better for the both of them if he settled down before he spoke.

“Why are you mad?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Clearly,” Tate acknowledged, and then he lowered his mouth to his ear and whispered, “But that’s too bad.”

A shiver raced up Logan’s spine as Tate’s lips moved to his neck and pressed a kiss there.

“Why are you mad?”

He let his head rest against the concrete and balled his fists by his sides as Tate rubbed his leg against the inside of his own—immediately, his cock reacted.

“Tate…”

“Hmm,” Tate murmured as he brought his lips back to his ear. “Tell me, Logan. Why are you mad?”

Bringing a hand up to clutch at Tate’s arm, Logan turned his head, and when their mouths were only a whisper away, he admitted, “I don’t like the way he fucking looked at you.”