Chapter Forty
Mia
“What are we doing here?” I looked around the bar by the bay we’d parked at—Tink’s Tavern.
“I thought you could use an outing to let loose and get out of your head. It’s a dangerous place in there,” he teased, trying to make me laugh.
I rolled my eyes instead. Whatever. I could go for a drink. Help Logan’s words sink in from earlier about being a perfectionist. It made sense really, but I didn’t think facing it and accepting that I was like that was going to be an easy fix. I was who I was. I just needed to adapt, as suggested.
“Well, there is the king of minds himself. We were just talking about you.” A giant man with dark hair and green eyes was smiling at Logan with a chicken wing in his hand. He hadn’t noticed me yet until the man sitting next to him, who honestly looked like he could be related to Logan with the same build, blond hair, and darker blue eyes, nudged the other and then nodded toward me.
“Hot damn, Logan. You go to Utah and come back with a date. I’m impressed.” He did indeed look impressed that I was here. And not in a creepy way. He was genuinely interested that Logan had a girl next to him.
“This big jerk is Tate, and the broody gentleman next to him is Callum. Callum works with me at Inspired, and Tate is a sports announcer. Guys, this is Mia,” Logan introduced us.
I waved, feeling that this wasn’t the sort of setting to go all business on them and straighten my spine while shaking their hands to show I wasn’t afraid.
“Wait. I know you.” Tate’s eyes narrowed, and his hand went up to rub his jaw while he tried piecing together who I was, and now that he’d mentioned it, I was pretty sure he had been at a charity event or two I was at.
Realization dawned on him, if the widened eyes and the dropped-open mouth were any clues.
“Mia motherfucking Moretti. That’s your client? Holy hell.” Tate was starstruck it seemed, which made me giggle, and his table mate elbowed him in the side, probably telling him to calm his tits.
“Right. Maybe this was a bad decision.” Logan nervously looked at me and then at his friends, like they were going to frighten me.
The thought was laughable. I handled men more powerful and with a God complex daily. I could handle these two easily.
“Now, I think it was the perfect idea.” I gave him a wink and then walked over to the bar to look at their selection.
An older woman walked up to where I was and pulled out a glass for me.
“Whiskey sour, please. And hi. You must be Tink. I’m Mia.”
I guessed she was the owner. She had boss vibes all over her, like she didn’t take any shit and didn’t leave running the bar to anyone else but her. A woman after my own heart.
She quickly made my drink and set it before me on the wooden bar top. “I like you. He needs a strong girl like you, not no pomegranate lemonade martini shit girl like his ex-wife.” The woman looked at Logan with pride in her eyes.
For once, I saw more than what was obvious, like Logan usually did. I read love and affection on her face in a motherly fashion. These people were his family. The wild, rambunctious brother Tate. The quiet but down-for-anything brother Callum. And the tough,if you ain’t bleeding, then you’re finemama Tink, looking over them all.
“Thank you.” I lifted the glass up to her, my thanks for many things besides just making the drink for me.
She was there for Logan. She liked me.
I took a sip of the whiskey, and a whisper of a moan bubbled up from my lungs. Tink sure as shit knew how to make a drink.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. She makes noises like that, too. How did you get so lucky?” Tate grumbled like a child who watched as someone else got to buy a toy he had been dreaming of but didn’t get the chance to have.
I made my way over to the table where all three of them sat. Logan sweetly pulled out the barstool next to him, and I sat my backside down, ready to enjoy this drink and company.
“So, Mia, how’s the program working for you?” Callum peered at me with those darker-than-Logan’s blue eyes with interest.
“Great actually. I’ve been really feeling free lately—and no, Tate, it has nothing to do with Logan’s cock.”
Yep, I could hang and talk dirty just like any other man in the joint. These guys were nothing compared to my family and the way they talked. I was just happy Logan didn’t know Italian when he was at dinner.
“Marry her, Logan. I swear to God, if you don’t, I will.” Tate took a sip of his beer and then pointed it at Logan in a promise sort of way.
He wasn’t my type at all, but who knows? I used to think my type was all suits and cuff links with their hair gelled back. Now, I believed I had a thing for the surfer look, sun-kissed tan skin, and sandals instead of oxfords.
Still, I was falling in love with Logan, and no one else was in the race to win my heart but the sandal-wearing surfer alone.
“Jesus.” Logan ran his hands over his face, like he wanted the bar to collapse over him so that this conversation would end.
“So, how did you all meet? I’m sure there’s a fascinating story behind whatever this bromance is.” I gestured between the three of them and heard Tink’s bellowing laughter from behind the bar.
“I second Tate’s statement, Logan. Marry the girl, or I will.” She laughed all the way to the kitchen, the sound still echoing from the door.
“Right. How we met. It is a funny story actually.” Logan was bringing the subject back to the question I’d asked, but it was too late to miss the way his eyes had dipped to my left hand and how his cheeks pinked slightly. No clue what it meant, but for a moment there, I knew Logan had thought about me being his wife.
Whether good or bad though, an image was in there.
