Logan (7 Brides for 7 Blackthornes Book 6)
Page 18
“I don’t think I ever thought about it that much. But then again, other than when I visit Ross in Kentucky, I’m always near the coast.”
With a shrug, she cut into her steak and smiled. “This looks amazing.”
“Yes, it does.”
Piper glanced at him, brows furrowed. “How would you know? You’re not even looking at your plate.”
“I know. I’m looking at you.” And he couldn’t help but smile. “You’re beautiful, Piper, and I’m so happy we’re here together.”
“Me too.”
He noticed she kept sneaking glances down at her food and he took the hint. “Go ahead and eat. I get it. We don’t need you getting hangry again.”
“I hate to break it to you, Ace…it happens way more than you think. Sometimes I get so involved in working on a game, that I forget to eat. Then when I realize it…BAM! Hangry.”
“Hmm…good thing you’re telling me this now.” He sighed. “We can say we gave it our best shot, but your hangriness was a deal breaker.”
“Logan!”
He tugged her out of her seat and into his lap. “Sweetheart, it’s going to take a whole lot more than you being cranky about food to get rid of me. Don’t you worry.”
“Hey, if I can deal with you beating me at a game I normally excel at, then you can deal with making sure I eat.”
He kissed her soundly. “You’re on.”
Excerpt from TREY (Book 7)
by Christie Ridgway
Trey Blackthorne hopes for a quiet drink at the Vault, the whisky pub owned by the Blackthorne family in King Harbor, Maine. But too soon he’s joined by his cousins Philip and Brock, and by his brother Devlin. All three have only one thing on their minds and see only one solution…
“And who is going to focus on healing the fracture in the family?” Phillip demanded of the eldest Blackthorne. “It’s gotta be addressed, Trey. And we all know who’s best suited for the job.”
As much as Trey had always willingly taken on the family fixer role, for some reason this problem felt too…thorny. Some inner voice, one he would have said a few months ago he didn’t believe in—too woo-woo for his matter-of-fact disposition—cautioned him to stay well-clear. “Come on, guys,” he said. “What am I supposed to do? Play marriage counselor?”
“Well, no,” said Dev, the ghost of a smile turning up his lips, “considering the longest girlfriend you ever had lasted less than six months before she publicly proclaimed you cared more for your phone that you cared for her.”
Relief coursed through Trey, even as he flinched at the description that sounded a lot like his mother complaining about his father. “Good, I’m glad we agree. Then—”
“But you’re the one who should go to Paris and convince Mom to come home,” Dev said. “Home where she can hash things out with Dad.”
“Home where we can better control the messaging,” Brock added. “There’s never been a divorce in the Blackthorne family and—”
“Even I’m not so thick when it comes to women as to bring up the brand as an incentive,” Trey said, frowning.
Phillip drummed his fingertips on the tabletop. “It’s up to you how you manage it, Trey. Just find a way to bring her back and get to the bottom of that secret.”
“The end of the fiscal year meeting is coming,” he protested. But the three other men were looking at him, their gazes and their poses implacable, every inch of their Blackthorne Scotch stubbornness on display.
Hell.
“You better make it quick, then,” Phillip advised, obviously reading his capitulation.
“You know we’re more than prepared for the year-end meeting,” Brock said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll even text Jer for you. Your assistant can book you on the first nonstop from Boston to Paris. You’ll be there and back again so quick, there’ll be no harm to you at all.”
Trey swallowed a groan. Why did that have the hollow sound of famous last words?
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