“I know, sweetie,” I tell her, crouching down to scratch behind her ears. “I wish you could come with us, but Daddy says no. He says you won’t like the backpack.”
I have to admit, I want to bring her at some point just to put her in that cat backpack Logan bought—the one with the plastic dome window. She’d look like a little kitty astronaut with her smushed face pressed against the plexiglass. It would be adorable.
I look back down at her. “Don’t worry, we’re only going to be gone a couple of hours.”
Logan hasn’t told me where we’re going. I’m assuming dinner since he just told me to “dress to impress,” and that’s what I did. My feet already ache from the high black heels, butthey look amazing with the tight, strapless black cocktail dress I’m wearing.
Logan opens the bedroom door a crack and peeks in. “Hey, you ready?”
“I am.” I smooth my hands along my waist, suddenly nervous.
His eyes travel slowly down my body and back up. “Wow. You look amazing.”
“Thank you.” Heat rises in my cheeks. “You do too.”
And he does. Black pants, black button-up shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms. He looks unfairly handsome.
We head out to the SUV, and he doesn’t give me any hints about where we’re going. Surprising me has become his new favorite pastime, and honestly, I’m all for it.
The spot next to the elevator where Cole or Jack usually stood is empty.
I pause for a moment, struck by the absence. For months, one of them was always there—arms crossed, eyes scanning, a quiet and constant presence. Now that Preston is officially behind bars serving his sentence, my bodyguards have moved on to their next assignment.
We became friends during their time here. I actually miss them, though I’m glad I no longer need them. Whoever they’re protecting now, I know they’re doing an incredible job.
Logan helps me into the SUV and closes the door behind me. Walking around the back of the vehicle, he opens the driver’s side door and gets in. He flashes me a handsome smile as we pull out of the garage.
Eventually, we pull onto a narrow road that winds through the woods, parking in a small, cleared spot. I look around. There’s nothing in sight besides trees and the sound of running water somewhere nearby.
“Okay,” I say to him. “I’m intrigued.”
He smiles and gets out, coming around to my side to help me down. The heels weren’t made for unpaved parking lots. He takes my hand, lacing our fingers together, and leads me down a pathway through beautiful green foliage.
When the trees break, we step into a clearing beside a river, and I gasp.
It’s gorgeous.
In the center of the clearing is a gazebo covered in what must be thousands of flowers—roses, peonies, hydrangeas, all vibrant and lush. In the middle of the gazebo sits a table draped in white linen, candles flickering in the fading sunlight, silver domes covering what I assume is our dinner.
The whole thing is absolutely stunning. The flowers, the candles, the gazebo framed by the river and the woods surrounding us—it looks like a scene straight out of a movie.
“I can’t believe this,” I breathe. “This is so pretty. This is where we’re eating dinner?”
“We are.” Logan watches my reaction, clearly pleased with himself.
“Who owns this place?”
“A friend,” he says with a smile.
I’ve learned while hanging out with professional hockey players that they have a lot of friends who do them a lot of favors. Definite perk to the job.
“Oh my gosh, Logan.” We walk toward the gazebo, my heels sinking slightly into the soft grass. “This is simply stunning. I can’t believe it. It’s one of the most romantic things I’ve ever seen.”
We stop before we reach the table, beneath an archway absolutely dripping with flowers. He turns to face me, and something in his expression makes my breath catch.
“Before we eat,” he says, his voice slightly unsteady, “I wanted to ask you your question of the day.”
“Oh.” I swallow, suddenly aware of how nervous he seems.
