“Home sweet home,” Logan says, but his voice goes tight.
The doors open before we reach them.
Three men step onto the wide porch, and even though I’ve seen photos, nothing prepared me for them in person.
Logan’s father, Grant Hale, stands in the center. Fifty-two years old, CEO of Hale Consolidated Industries, and apparently allergic to aging like a normal human. Silver threads through his dark hair, and he’s wearing a black short-sleeved henley that shows off the full sleeve tattoos covering both arms. Intricate designs I can’t make out from here, but they wind from wrist to shoulder like dark artwork.
He looks like he could run a Fortune 500 company and break someone’s neck in the same afternoon.
To his left is Donovan, the oldest son at thirty. Brown hair, sharp jaw, the same broad build as his father. He’s watching us approach with dark eyes. When he says something to Grant, his voice carries across the space, deep and smooth.
On Grant’s right is Kai, the youngest at twenty-five. His platinum-blond hair is obviously dyed, but it looks incredible against his tan skin. He’s grinning like he knows a joke no one else has heard yet, hands shoved in his pockets, radiating that reckless energy Logan’s always complaining about.
Photos don’t do any of them justice.
“Logan.” Grant’s voice could command armies. “You made it.”
“Dad.” Logan’s hand tightens on mine as we climb the porch steps. “This is my girlfriend, Samantha Allen. Sam, this is my father, Grant, and my brothers, Donovan and Kai.”
I already know who they are, but I smile anyway. “Thank you so much for having me.”
Donovan nods, his gaze steady on my face. “Welcome to the estate.”
Kai’s grin widens. “Logan didn’t mention you were gorgeous. Typical.”
“Kai,” Grant says, mild but with clear warning underneath.
“What? I’m being welcoming.” Kai winks at me, and heat climbs my neck.
Logan’s jaw goes tight. “Chelsea’s here too. She’s helping with the gala preparations.”
It’s the first time he’s mentioned why his assistant is here, and I file that detail away. Grant’s eyes flick to Chelsea, then back to Logan. I swear I see disapproval there, but it’s gone too fast to be sure.
“Of course,” Grant says. “Kai, show Chelsea to the east wing guest suite. Donovan, handle the luggage.”
“On it.” Donovan’s moving toward the SUV.
Kai bounds down the steps and offers Chelsea his arm like they’re in some period drama. “This way, my lady.”
Chelsea giggles and takes his arm.
Grant turns his full attention to me. Up close, his eyes are dark gray, almost silver. The weight of his stare makes hair rise at the back of my neck. “Samantha,” he says, “Logan’s told us very little about you. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”
“I’m looking forward to it too.” I’m proud my voice stays steady.
His mouth curves, but it’s not quite a smile. Then he looks at Logan, and whatever warmth was there disappears. “We need to talk about the Denver acquisition. Tonight after dinner.”
“Sure, Dad.” Logan tries to sound casual, but I feel his tension through our joined hands.
Grant nods once and walks back into the house.
“Well,” I say into the silence. “Your family seems nice.”
Logan laughs, but it sounds hollow. “Nice isn’t the word I’d use.”
Inside, the main lodge is grand with vaulted ceilings and exposed beams stretching overhead. A massive stone fireplace crackles with real fire. Leather furniture, pine garlands, and white lights everywhere.
A Christmas tree stands in the corner, at least twelve feet tall, dripping with what look like actual crystal ornaments.
