You could’ve knocked me over with a feather. “Yourparentsown Bloody Good Wine? I thought you were farmers.”
Behind me, Duke whispered, “Is that Logan Arthur the politician?” followed by the familiar tapping sounds of a rapid Google search.
Petra’s dark eyes sparkled. She was short—Logan had gotten his height from his dad—and lovely, with the wide face and high cheekbones I associated with eastern Europeans, and curly dark hair like Logan’s. “We had this right annoying son who kept pestering us to stop farming livestock and get in on the wine boom, so we made the leap from Odejo to Fredericksburg about—” She looked at her husband for confirmation. “Six years ago?”
Kit nodded. “Sounds about right. The timelineandthe cheeky son.” Both his and Petra’s British accents were so strong I was now amazed Logan’s wasn’t stronger. Kit grinned at me. “Though I suppose I don’t have to tell you about the cheekiness, do I?” He stuck out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my dear.”
Oh.Of course.Logan would’ve told his parents we were dating, just like I’d told my mom. Zoey elbowed me, and I hurriedly shook Mr. Arthur’s hand. “It’s very nice to meet you.” I glanced at Logan and he arched his eyebrows at me. I had so many things I wanted to ask him, but couldn’t in public. I hadn’t seen him all week since the debate fiasco. He’d texted me once to apologize for being MIA, telling me the campaign was in hyperdrive trying to do damage control, and he’d call as soon as he wasn’t in meetings twenty-three hours a day. I’d been so unsure how to respond—did I ask if he was okay? Did I ask if it was my fault he’d been distracted? Did I tell him I was here if he needed to vent?—that it had taken me an hour of pacing, typing, and deleting before I’d settled on a safeSounds good. And now he was here, out of my daydreams and in the flesh. It was surreal.
“I understand we have some brides here on their hen weekend,” Petra crooned, clasping her hands.
“Right here,” Mac said, pointing at Annie and Zoey, who beamed.
“Pretty sure the crowns gave it away,” Claire quipped, which earned her a glare from Mac.
“Well, Kit and I wanted to say congratulations, and as our gift, your wine is on the house.”
The table exploded into polite protests.
“You really don’t have to do that,” Annie said. “We’re happy to support you.”
Arthur waved her away. “We insist. We’re big fans of love in the Arthur household.” He squeezed Petra. “Been happily married thirty years ourselves.”
Happily married parents. Could Logan and I be any different?
“And we want to make a good impression on Alexis.” Petra winked at me. “Logan’s so besotted we’re hoping to woo her into sticking around—”
“Okay, Mom,” he interrupted, shooting her a death glare. “Why don’t we bring the nice hen party the wine they came for?”
“Ah, right,” said Petra, and Logan hustled his parents in the direction of the bar.
As soon as their backs were turned, everyone started whispering.
“Do you like your surprise?” Zoey clutched my arm. “Logan’s spending the weekend with us!”
My eyebrows were going to be permanently stuck in my hairline. “He is?” Now I understood why I’d been given a king bed. Oh, God, Logan and I only had that one bed. I’d read too many romance novels not to understand what kind of trouble I was setting myself up for.
“Heis?” Lee echoed, even louder than me. She shot Ben a furtive look. They must be thinking of Will.
“Props, Alexis.” Mac reached across the table and lifted her hand for a high five. “Your governor’s hot on TV with that whole dark, angry British thing, but in real life he’ssmoking. Sorry Ted, I call ’em like I see ’em.” Her face brightened. “I bet he saysgovernorall British.Gov’na.”
Her boyfriend, Ted, eyed her. “My Midwest accent really isn’t doing it for you, huh?”
“He’s a gubernatorialcandidate,” Claire corrected. “He hasn’t won yet. And right now it’s not looking so hot. If he’s staying the weekend, no one’s allowed to mention that shit show of a debate. That means no drunk politics, Stoner.”
Lee rolled her eyes. “When have I ever—”
“All the time,” everyone said in unison.
“That debate was painful.” Claire’s husband, Simon, cringed. “Best not bring it up.”
“You dummies,” I hissed. “He’s only a few feet away. He’llhearyou.”
To my horror, Logan turned from the bar with a bottle of rosé and a tight-lipped smile. “Don’t worry. No one has to tiptoe. I know I bloody well choked.”
I’d never witnessed Claire look so mortified. “Logan, I’m sorry—”
“No need to apologize.” He shook his head and tipped her wineglass over, filling it with rosé, the pour coming out in one smooth arc. I hadn’t realized watching someone expertly pour wine was a kink a person could have until now. “I had a bad night. I’ll do better next time. There’s still hope I’ll be gov’na yet.” He winked at Mac, then his eyes shifted to me. “Bombing puts things in perspective, at least. Shows you what you need to do differently.”
