by Ella Frank
Chapter Thirteen
IT HAD JUST turned eleven when the door to The Popped Cherry opened and Tate looked over his shoulder from where he sat at the bar. He didn’t usually unlock the front doors until opening time, but Logan had told him he was sending someone his way for an interview. However, the man in all black who’d just stepped inside the front door didn’t look as though he knew he was expected. In fact, he looked as though he thought he was in the wrong place.
“Can I help you?” Tate said, sliding off his stool, and as he walked around several tables to get closer, the face he was staring at came into sharper focus and he knew immediately who was standing in front of him. I’m going to kill Logan. “Robbie.”
The guy with the brown hair and face devoid of any kohl or makeup barely resembled the barista Tate remembered, and the fidgety way he twisted his hands had Tate reining in his impulse to call Logan and kick his ass.
Logan had been right. Robbie not only looked different, his entire demeanor was…off.
“Tate,” Robbie said, taking a tentative step forward, so Tate took the three steps up to the entryway and held his hand out in greeting.
“I knew Logan had a meeting with you this morning, but didn’t realize you were who he was sending over here.”
Robbie took his hand, and Tate shook it firmly, unable to stop staring at the stranger opposite him. Okay, he really does look totally different.
“Yeah,” Robbie said, and then gave an awkward laugh as he shoved his hands back into the pockets of his skintight pants. “Surprise.”
Tate crossed his arms and smirked. “Surprise is right. It’s been—”
“Years?”
“Yeah, it has been,” Tate said with a nod, and then turned to head down into the main bar area. As Robbie followed, Tate glanced over his shoulder and said, “I think the last time we saw you I’d just gotten out of the hospital, right?”
Robbie grimaced and looked at Tate’s arm. “Yeah, that’s right. You broke your arm.”
“Collarbone,” Tate said as he directed them over to his favored booth. “That was a long time ago.”
“Sure was,” Robbie said as he looked around the place. “Wow, I can’t believe you own this place. Well, you and Logan. I can’t believe that either. I’ve actually been in here a couple of times. It’s a great bar.”
“Uhh, thanks. We like it,” Tate said, as he slid into one side of the black leather booth and Robbie did the same on the opposite side.
As they settled in, Tate took a second to really study Robbie, and just like Logan, he could barely connect him with the little shit he’d met when he first started dating Logan. He seemed tense, a little nervous, and, except for the flashy tie, quite somber. It was a radical transformation.
Tate waited until Robbie had finished checking out the place, and when his eyes landed back on Tate, he gave a half-smile and said, “You haven’t changed at all.”
“Really?” Tate said, and chuckled. “I was just thinking the opposite of you.”
“Yeah, Logan said the same thing. Just a little subtler these days.”
“You? Subtle?” That really had Tate laughing. “Yeah, right. Maybe your appearance is a little less…out there. But I find it hard to believe the Robbie I used to know isn’t still in there somewhere.”
“And who’s the Robbie you used to know?”
Tate rested an arm on the table and contemplated him carefully. “A man who flat out asked me if I topped or bottomed when I was just learning what the hell that even meant.”
Finally, a mischievous grin hit Robbie’s lips and his eyes lit up. “And now that you know?”
“You will still never find out.”
“Fine, fine. Keep your secrets,” Robbie said, and Tate had to admit that he much preferred this Robbie to the stranger who’d entered the bar.
This Robbie was a little more familiar. This Robbie he could handle. And he was determined to try and keep him talking. “So, Logan tells me you’re looking for a job.”
“Yeah, umm, kind of.”
“Kind of?” Tate said.
“No. What I mean is, yes, I am. I just didn’t go to him expecting this. But he was all, you know, Mr. Sophistication in his big, shiny office, and basically demanded to know what was wrong with me, and before I knew it, I was telling him about the horrible month I had and he was ordering me down here to apply for a job. If you think I’m qualified, that is.”
Tate’s lips twitched at the accurate description of Logan. He knew how it felt to be intimidated by the man’s looks, money, and wit, and for that he almost felt sorry for Robbie—almost.
The thing was, he was the one who’d told Logan to go all alpha on Robbie, and apparently it had worked, because the guy currently seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. No doubt remembering how Logan had looked in that “shiny office” of his. Potent bastard. Even miles away, Logan is still in the room with us.
“Well, how about you tell me a little bit about yourself,” Tate said. “What have you been doing these past few years? What jobs? And are you even interested in a managerial position at a bar?”
Robbie’s eyes widened and he sat up in the chair as though he’d been goosed in the ass. “Managerial?”
“Yes,” Tate said. “That’s the position. I need a full-time manager. Someone who can run the bar when I’m not here. Someone who’s willing to close during the week and every other weekend.”
Robbie looked around again, and then back at Tate. “I’d manage The Popped Cherry? And work with you?”
“And sometimes Logan,” Tate said, throwing out what he knew would be the biggest draw for Robbie. “If you get the job.”
Robbie nodded, a determined smile now stretching across his lips. “Okay,” he said, placing his hands on the table and clasping them together. “Ask me anything you want to know, and I’ll tell you.”
“I’M HERE TO give my confession,” Logan said as he pushed open the door to Cole’s office and walked inside.
As his brother looked up at him, the other occupant in the room, a man with rich auburn hair who was seated across from Cole’s desk, said, “I’m only here for a week this time round, Mitchell. Your confession would take a hell of a lot longer than that.”
Logan strode into the office, as Joel Priestley, a.k.a. Priest, got to his feet and extended a hand. Logan took it, shaking it firmly as he clapped the other man on the back. “And here I thought I was going to be free and absolved of everything I did last night.”
Priest scoffed. “As I said, I only have a week.”
“How’ve you been?” Logan asked as he moved to sit in the free seat.
“Good. No complaints. The flight was smooth, the bourbon they served not so much.”
Cole chuckled. “You flew out here at the crack of dawn. Long night?”
“You don’t even want to know,” Priest said. “I can’t remember the last time I lay down in an actual bed.”
“And you think my confession would take time,” Logan said, as a knock sounded on the door.
“Ahh, Jane,” Cole said as he smiled at his PA. “If you could please bring us some coffee? Black, I think is what’s needed.”
“Of course, Mr. Madison. Anything else?”
“Only the usual, Jane,” Cole said, referring to her use of his first name. But as always, she merely smiled and said, “Never, Mr. Madison. I’ll be right back.”
As the door shut behind her, Cole sat back in his chair and twirled his pen around his fingers as he sized Priest up. Logan was doing much the same.
They’d been in talks with the Los Angeles-based criminal defense lawyer for a few months now. He currently worked for a very reputable firm and had one of the best track records of acquittals in the country this year. That was quite the accomplishment for someone so young, and the fact that Mitchell & Madison had worked closely with him for some time made them a great option for him to…spread his wings, so to say. Not to mention it would also be a strong get for them. Having Pri
est on board would be a prudent call.
“As you know from our previous conversations,” Logan said, “Cole and I are looking to expand the firm.”
Priest looked between them with his shrewd grey eyes, and then nodded. “That was my understanding, yes.”
“With the Berivax win,” Cole went on, “we’re in a position to do so now with less chance of—”
“Failure?” Priest suggested.
“Such an optimist,” Logan said, clasping his hands over his stomach.
“A realist,” Priest said in a cool, factual tone. “Most law firms can’t handle a large expansion in this economy. But I’ve been researching you two and your firm, and I agree. You’re in a prime position to do this. It’s a smart move for you. I’m a smart move for you. But I won’t uproot my whole life for anything less than partner.”
No one could ever accuse Joel Priestley of lacking confidence, that was for sure. But that was one of the things that Logan and Cole admired about the guy. He was younger than they were by a few years. But that was what they wanted. Someone who was fresh. Someone who was confident. And someone who knew the law inside out. They wanted a lawyer who was hungry for it. And Joel? He was starving.
Logan narrowed his eyes on Priest’s profile, trying to gauge whether he’d break under both his and Cole’s scrutiny, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away from Cole once, and Cole had one of the best poker faces around.
Joel Priestley was like a pillar of fucking granite.
“You say you’re a smart move for us. How so?” Logan asked.
Priest looked over at him, his grey eyes hard as the stone he resembled, and the tight smile he gave was smug. “You and your brother aren’t stupid.”
“Thank you,” Logan said with an equally conceited smile.
“You would have done your research, your vetting. Ninety percent of my clients will stay with me even long distance. That means I’ll bring to your firm quite a bit of business. Not to mention I’ve got an incredible record—”
“And are clearly modest,” Cole interjected, and Priest looked at him.
“You don’t want modest. You want a sure thing. I am that sure thing.”
Logan slowly nodded as he glanced over at Cole, whose expression was inscrutable. They already knew what they wanted the outcome of this week with Priestley to be. But they’d also agreed they wanted to see him in action, so that was what had to happen next.
“Okay,” Logan said, and waited until he had Priest’s attention again. “I have a case for you while you’re here. It might take a little longer than a week, though. Would that be a problem?”
“No. I’ll call the office and tell them I’m taking some of the leave owed me.”
“Very good,” Logan said. “Like I said, I’d like you to take this case on, and I’ll be there if you need anything. If you’re a sure thing, then this should be a walk in the park.”
At least I hope so, Logan thought, as he remembered Vanessa’s tear-streaked face.
“Then let’s walk,” Priest said with a clipped nod. “Show me the files, give me an office, and I’ll get to work.”
As Logan got to his feet, Cole and Priest followed suit. They each shook hands, and then Logan said, “I hope for your sake you’re right. Because this girl refuses to plead guilty and she’s innocent. I can feel it in my bones. And she’s looking at years.”
Priest didn’t flinch. Didn’t show one iota of concern. Actually, not even an ounce of emotion. “Where can I get to work?”
And without any more conversation, Logan led him out of Cole’s office and down to the conference room.
IT WAS CLOSE to midnight when Tate unlocked the front door and headed inside the condo. All of the lights inside were off save for the lamp in the bedroom, and after he tossed his jacket over the couch, he headed straight for the low-lit room and the man he knew he’d find in it.
As he got to the door, he looked inside and expected to find Logan asleep. But instead he was leaning back against the headboard, glasses on, the sheet draped across his waist, a book in hand.
Tate rested his shoulder against the doorjamb as he ran his eyes over the scene that greeted him. “My little book nerd.”
Logan looked up and lowered the hardback to rest on his lap. “Little?”
Tate crossed his arms and continued to look Logan over. “Okay, how about my sexy book nerd?”
Logan picked up his book, shut it, then set it on the nightstand. “Much better,” he said, and whipped the sheet aside, exposing his very naked body. “Now why don’t you get undressed and get into bed?”
Unable to ignore such an enticing invitation, Tate pushed off the doorjamb and unbuttoned his vest as Logan’s eyes followed his path, and when he was finally over on the left side of the room, Logan began to slowly stroke himself.
Yes…he’s definitely sexy. So very, very fucking sexy.
Tate dropped his clothes to the floor as quickly as possible, and once he was between the sheets, he scooted over to Logan’s side and replaced his hand with his own. As he leisurely stroked him to full mast, Logan wrapped his arm around Tate’s shoulders and pulled him to his side. Tate gently kissed his way up to Logan’s ear and asked, “How was your day?”
“Productive,” Logan said. “How was yours?”
Tate paused in what he was doing. “Interesting. You made a good call today.”
Logan turned his head on the pillow, and Tate grinned over the fact he still wore his glasses. “If this conversation is about to involve the person I think it is, can it happen when your hand is not— Ahh, fuck.”
“When it’s not what?” Tate whispered against Logan’s lips.
“Tate…”
“Hmm?” he said, and then reached for Logan’s glasses. He slipped them free of Logan’s face and then put them on, pushing them up his nose. “You were saying?”
“Can we talk about him when your hand’s not wrapped around my cock?”
Tate tightened his grip and kissed him, and when he pulled back, Logan flipped one of his curls away from the thick black rims framing his eyes. “These look good on you.”
“Not as good as they look on you. But tonight, I thought they’d help me see better when I get up close and personal with you.”
“Then by all means, you should keep them on.”
Tate grinned as he worked his way down Logan’s body and kissed every inch of skin he could reach. When he finally settled between Logan’s legs, he scraped his teeth over his inner thigh and said, “Oh, and don’t worry, I don’t plan to do any more talking tonight. It’s too hard to carry on a conversation when my mouth’s full. We’ll just leave it at ‘I hired him.’ And come back to that later.”
Logan’s head snapped up off the pillow and his eyes widened as he looked down at Tate, but no words came from his mouth. The only sound that emerged was a satisfied groan as Tate sucked his cock between his lips, and then proceeded to get up close and personal with his very sexy book nerd.
Part Two
Family:
A group of people related to one another by blood or marriage.
Scratch that…
Family is love. Family is acceptance.
Family is who you choose to surround yourself with.
And those you can’t live without.
Chapter Fourteen
“UNCLE LOGAN? CAN we get ice cream? Can we? Pleeease?”
Logan followed along behind Thomas, who was tugging his hand as he led them up the frozen food aisle and stopped in front of the rows of colorful cartons of ice cream.
Tate was trailing behind with Lila strapped in the shopping cart as they wove their way through the aisles of Mariano’s. They’d picked the kids up around forty minutes earlier and decided on the way home they’d brave the grocery store to grab some dinner supplies for the night.
“Hmm…” Logan said, as Thomas let go of his hand and put his palms on the glass door. “What flavor do you like best?”
Thomas glanced
back at him with wide eyes and a huge grin. “All of them.”
Logan chuckled and ruffled his hair. “A man after my own heart. But if you had to pick just one?”
Thomas scrunched his nose up and looked back at the selection in front of him. “I like chocolate.”
“That’s a good choice,” Logan said.
“But I also like strawberry,” Thomas said. “Also when Dad gets vanilla and pours caramel all over it. That’s yummy.”
“Sundaes,” Tate said as he brought the cart to a stop behind the two of them. “I love sundaes. We should do that.”
Logan looked back to where Lila was happily chewing on the blueberry puffs Rachel had said were a lifesaver—and so far, she’d been right—then his eyes rose to lock with Tate’s, whose were alight with mischief. “Sundaes, huh?”
“Yep,” Tate said with a grin. “A tub of vanilla ice cream and every topping you can think of.”
“Yesss,” Thomas said, and nodded enthusiastically. “Let’s do that.”
Logan turned back to the fridge and opened the door so Thomas could pick out the ice cream of his choice, and when he picked out the tub with the blue bunny on it, no one was surprised.
With the ice cream in the cart, they headed off down the aisle, Thomas holding the side this time as Logan stepped up beside Tate and lowered his voice. “I’ll make sure we circle back around for the nuts. I know they’re your favorite part of dessert.”
Tate’s lips curved into a delicious grin, and then Lila beamed at the two of them and shouted, “Nuts!”
A boisterous laugh escaped Logan before he could stop it, and he took Lila’s little cheeks between his hands and smacked a kiss to her lips. “That’s exactly right, little miss. Let’s go get Uncle Tate some nuts to eat.”
