Chapter 12

I apply a little more makeup than I normally would, and by a little , I mean, a lot because I never really wear makeup—hello, I'm an author, and I work from home. So, tonight, I'm going all out.

What are the chances my sister comes to town to visit the same exact night that Maddie is home for the weekend and demands to take Amelia to the jump park?

I'm glad Tessa got to meet Amelia before Maddie picked her up because I wanted my sister to see how amazing she was. But I'm sort of sad I had to give Amelia up for the night. When my sister called, I planned to take her, Poppy, and Amelia to go get ice cream and maybe walk the beach, but as fate would have it, now, I get to have a grown-up night with my two best friends. Poppy and my younger sister, Tessa. And not just that, but Tessa scored us Morgan Wallen tickets for tonight. And what's even cooler is that he's playing in the same arena that is home to the New England Bay Sharks. And since Walker and Logan are both out of town for business, what better night for us all to hang out?

Tessa doesn't bother knocking on the bathroom door, instead just barging in. "Okay, so first off, Amelia is adorable. You know I hate children, but that one? So cute and funny. I mean, Highland cows and excavators? I can't even." She takes a single tiny breath simply because she needs it to survive before carrying on. "Second, you little bitch. You didn't tell me or Mom that you were nannying for Logan freaking Sterns's kid!" She waves around the room. "And shacking up with him? Wait till Mom hears about this."

She always talks a mile a minute. She's the more outgoing one, more peoply than I ever have been or ever will be. Thus why I'm a writer and she's a traveling photographer.

I turn, leaning against the bathroom counter. "Tell me, what makes you think I didn't already tell her?" I raise a brow.

"Because she didn't tell me, duh. You know that woman can't keep a secret," she deadpans, and I know she's right.

My mom—God love her—doesn't mean to tell us each other's secrets, but I swear, sometimes, she forgets who she talked to about it and then does it on accident.

"Yeah, okay. You got me there," I utter. "Well, I didn't tell you because …" I pause, sighing. "You guys have always been so supportive when it comes to my writing career. When I went to signings, you'd go to every one of them to basically be my calming goats. I didn't want you to think I had thrown it all away just to get close to a hockey player."

"Why?" She shrugs. "Sounds like the logical thing to do to me."

I roll my eyes at her before I start laughing. Taking the end of my foundation brush, I smack her with it. "Also, how the heck was I supposed to tell you two that I was living under the same roof as a professional athlete who looked like Logan freaking Sterns ?" I hold my arms out at my sides. "I knew you'd freak out. I mean, Mom asks me every time we talk on the phone if I'm seeing someone. I knew you'd automatically think that about me and him."

"Yeah, and?" She raises her perfectly shaped brows. "Are you?"

"No," I say quickly, turning back toward the mirror. "It's not like that."

"What's not like what?" Poppy says, strutting into the bathroom like it's her house.

She and Tessa quickly embrace, hugging and jumping up and down because they haven't seen each other in months. We've all hung out a few times, and just like Poppy and I did, she and Tessa hit it off too.

Once they release each other, Tessa waves her hand toward me. "Just talking about my big sister here and big bad Logan Sterns." She wiggles her eyebrows up and down. "Is she tapping that or what?"

Poppy suddenly looks annoyed before she grabs one of my lip glosses and opens it, smearing it across her lips. "Hell if I know. I barely see her anymore. He keeps her mighty busy, if you know what I mean." She winks. "I'm just kidding. I have no idea if he's been putting his D in her V, but I can tell you one thing … she's writing."

I frown, narrowing my eyes. "How do you know? I haven't told you that."

"You don't have to. I can tell. Because the few times we have talked? You haven't talked about how you can't write any words. So, I know you've found your voice again." She pokes my stomach. "And I think it has everything to do with the people you've been surrounding yourself with."

I look down at her stomach, and out of nowhere, tears instantly fill my eyes. Poppy has been busy with her own career, and she's right. I've been busy with Amelia and Logan, so it's been weeks since I've seen her. And in those weeks, her belly has gotten bigger.

"Awww, Pop," I gush, putting my hand on it before pulling it back. "Is that weird? If I touch your belly like that? Does it make you mad?"

"You? No." Then, she says sharply, "If some random person at the store touches me, I'll cut a bitch."

Tessa and I both burst into laughter because our friend is like a Chihuahua. Sweet to its owners and loyal to a fault, but don't piss it off.

Poppy's phone rings, and she pulls it from her pocket. "It's my man," she drawls, grinning as Walker's FaceTime request comes onto her screen.

When she slides her finger across it, Walker's face appears. I try not to look too closely, but when I see Logan in the background, my heart speeds up.

"Hey, babe!" Walker says, grinning at his wife. "Looking good!"

She pulls her arm back to give him a better look at her outfit—a Wallen T-shirt, cutoff jeans, and cowgirl boots.

"My cowboy hat is in the kitchen," she says. "Did you ever think you'd see the day I dressed up for a concert?"

"Hell no, baby. We grew up in Georgia—lived there for nineteen years, for Christ's sake, and I never once saw you in any cowboy boots."

"It's Morgan Wallen , Walker," she deadpans. "I'm showing up all right."

Though I try not to look directly at the screen, when Poppy puts it in front of my face, I can't really help it.

"Look at my girl. She's really trying to get Morgan's attention tonight," she singsongs.

"Dang, Mace." Walker grins. "You trying to be Morgan Wallen's next baby mama or what?"

"Please, I'll save the tortured boys for my books," I say, looking at the screen. "That boy's got far too many demons for me to wrangle. Though I'll admit, he's nice to look at and even better to listen to."

"Hey, let me say hi." Logan's voice comes through the speaker.

Then, the phone is snatched from Walker's hand and is now in Logan's possession.

"Looking good, Boston," he drawls slowly, bobbing his head up and down.

"Thanks." I blush, biting my bottom lip as I take in the sight of him in a suit, my mouth instantly watering. "You look nice too. Very … Christian Grey."

"I have no idea who that is, but because I look damn fucking good, I'll take it as a compliment." He winks. "Although I bet this Christian fella has nothing on me."

The expression in his eyes tells me that he has so much he wants to say, but can't say it in front of the other people listening in on our conversation. I haven't told anyone about our … arrangement. And I doubt he has either. I'm not ashamed; I just don't want people painting it out to be something that it's not. And I know my sister and Poppy—that's exactly what they'd do.

"Hey, phone stealer," Walker says from somewhere behind Logan. "We have to go. Our interview is next."

"Give me a goddamn second," Logan utters.

"Dude, we don't have a second, and I want to say goodbye to my wife," Walker's voice calls out.

Poppy turns the phone to face her. "Where's my husband, Sterns?" She narrows her eyes. "You think I want to look at you?"

"Yeah," Logan deadpans. "Everyone does."

Poppy's eyes roll clear to the sky, and she gives him a fuck off expression. "Hand the phone to Walker, Logie. You had your moment. And now, it's over."

"Fine," he grumbles. "Have fun, Boston."

Within seconds, Walker and Poppy say their goodbyes, and I head to the kitchen and get started on a White Claw. Or maybe two because it's going to take me a bit to get loosened up. Events like concerts aren't really my thing, but I'm trying to live in the moment and enjoy the now. Whatever the heck that even means.

My phone dings, and when I pull it from my pocket, I smile when I see Logan's name. Other than when he's been training or at the arena, he's here. So, the times we've texted, it's been about Amelia.

Logan: Fuck, you look hot.

Logan: Now, I'm headed out to an interview with a fucking semi.

Me: Sorry about that, Mr. Sterns. As Poppy said, gotta show up for Morgan Wallen.

Logan: I already messaged him and said if a sexy woman named Maci with brown hair and the finest ass in New England approaches him, she's off-limits. He promised not to try to make you his second baby mama.

Me: Ha. You're funny.

Logan: Did you forget that I'm a professional athlete? I can do things like message Morgan Wallen.

I drop my head down, thinking for a second. I guess I forgot that men like Logan and Walker are also celebrities, just like Morgan Wallen, but on a smaller and different scale. Of course, he could contact Morgan Wallen if he really wanted to.

Me: So, you ruined my shot at being Morgan Wallen's savior?

Logan: I did. And I regret absolutely nothing.

Logan: You can look if you must. But when you close your eyes tonight and slide that hand down between your legs, it'd best be my face and my cock you're thinking about, Boston.

Me: Yes, sir.

I type the words as a joke, but of course, Logan doesn't take them that way.

Logan: I like the sound of that. I might fuck my hand in the shower later, thinking about those two words.

Logan: Gotta go. Interview is starting. Remember, he can't make you come the way I do.

Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I notice Poppy and Tessa watching me carefully. I didn't even realize they had come into the room.

"So … you're totally sleeping with the kid's dad," Tessa says with a level of shock in her voice, mixed with amusement. "Hell … freaking … yes."

My sister has always lived closer to the edge than I do. She's more fun; she's been known to have a one-night stand or two when she goes out. She can attend a concert and dance without even drinking a drop of alcohol, unlike me. To her, me sleeping with Amelia's dad is out of character.

And yet she's smiling.

"O-M-G, you dirty little whore," Poppy chimes. "This is totally why we haven't hung out, isn't it? You're busy riding Logan's—"

"Don't even say it," I stop her. "And, no, I am not!" I lie through my teeth, unsure of what to do.

I know my face is turning redder with each passing second, and these two are totally going to know I'm lying.

"I can't even believe this." Tessa plops down on the barstool. "My sister is banging debatably the hottest NHL player. Well, he's right up there with Brody O'Brien."

"Um … fuck you. My husband is the hottest." Poppy gives her the middle finger before smiling. "Also, you forgot Cam Hardy."

"Well, duh. But I'm not about to say that in front of his wife." Tessa fans herself. "And yes to Cam Hardy. Sweet. Baby. Jesus." She leans forward before slapping her palm on the counter. "Okay, back to business. You're totally having sex with Logan. You can lie, but I know you, sis." She smiles at me. "I'm really happy for you. You deserve this."

"Hell yes, she does. It had been too long." Poppy grabs a seltzer water from the fridge and cracks it open. "Drink up, bitches. My pregnant ass can drive y'all around."

"When did it start anyway?" Tessa asks, her eyes sparkling. "And more importantly, how?"

I don't really want to dive into the full details because it feels disrespectful to Logan. But then again, I know Logan. And he wouldn't care.

"I'll put it this way, I've been … struggling with the spicy scenes in my book." I take a seat next to Tessa before taking a sip of my drink. "Or I was struggling. And, yeah … he helped me out. No biggie." I shrug.

I continue chugging my drink, not missing the fact that both of their mouths are hanging open like they are trying to catch some flies.

"Oh my fucking Gawwwwwd!" Tessa squeals, kicking her feet. "Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me?"

"So … if inquiring minds want to know how dirty Maci McKenzie and Logan Sterns can be, we can just pick up your next book." Poppy gives me a suspicious look that's laced with amusement. "Is that what you're saying?"

"I am not telling you nosy bitches the title or when it releases," I utter, finishing my drink, just for Poppy to open the refrigerator and pass me another.

She clearly wants to get me liquored up to spill my dirty, hot sex with Logan Sterns secrets.

Deciding to steer the conversation in a different direction, I hold my drink up. Tessa puts hers beside it, and Poppy joins with her seltzer water.

"Now, cheers to Morgan Wallen. Let's go have a fun night, ladies."

"Cheers!" they both say, smacking their cans to mine.

"Just so you know, the conversation about you and Daddy Sterns? So not over," Tessa mutters in my ear before guzzling down her drink.

As Walker and I sit in the corner booth at a steak house we found, I look at the picture Maci sent me of her, her sister, and Poppy, all right in front of the stage. Morgan Wallen's handsome face is a little too close for comfort, but hopefully, she remembers what I told her.

I'm the only one who can make her come the way she has been lately.

Between interviews, Walker and I decided to call the arena and pulled some strings. After all, that place is our home, and we wanted the girls to have the best seats in the house.

All right, sort of. I didn't really want Maci any closer to Wallen than maybe, like … half the stadium away. But then the other side of me wanted to show off a bit and make this night the best night ever for her. Which was why there was a limo waiting for them outside of my place, ready to take them to the arena for the concert.

"So, the limo was your idea, and upgrading the seats … your idea," Walker drawls thoughtfully. "You've got it bad for Maci, huh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, James." I shrug before setting my phone down on the table.

I don't want to hide what Maci and I are doing because, to be honest, she's fucking beautiful and incredible and any man would be lucky to be sleeping with her. But Maci seems like a very private person, and it's not my place to tell Walker—or anyone—what we're doing. Even though, if I had it my way, I'd tell everyone. That way, they'd know to stay away from her.

"Yeah, okay," he mutters with a quick shake of his head. "You're respecting her privacy—I get it." He takes a sip of his Coke before grinning at me. "But just so you know, I don't think I've ever seen that girl look happier than she did tonight when y'all were FaceTiming."

Thank fuck, before I can answer, Kolt struts over to our booth, sliding in next to me. The three of us have some business in New York this weekend, but that fucker has been disappearing all day.

"I was beginning to think you stood us up." I punch his arm. "I almost cried, thinking you didn't love me anymore."

"Nah, just had a few things to take care of," he mumbles. "I hate weekends like this."

Kolt has been this way since I met him, but his hatred for the press has only gotten worse since his separation from his wife. He keeps out of the media as much as he can, which is hard to do as a professional athlete. But when his wife left him, the reporters kind of honed in on every detail about the poor guy. They even tried to paint him as a cheating bastard online. So, anytime we have to travel to do promotional-type shit, he hates it.

In all honesty, I think the man just wants his wife back. I mean, it's been well over a year since she left, and the dude still wears his wedding band despite his publicist telling him it's time to take it off because it only draws more attention.

"We know, big guy. We know." Walker nods. "But a steak dinner is about to make you feel better."

I pat my stomach, nodding my head. "True that. I've never come face-to-face with a steak and not felt better after it was in my belly."

Kolt's head turns toward mine, and he gives me an are you fucking serious look. "You are one hundred percent a fucking dad," he says before, finally, his lips turn up the slightest bit. "You can't even talk normal anymore."

"Dude, he was like this before he had Amelia," Walker points out. "I think he's gotten worse with his corniness, yes. But … he's always been"—he waves his hand toward me—"Logan Sterns."

I take no offense to whatever they are trying to say, but the waitress comes out before I even have to bother questioning it. She smiles, suddenly appearing nervous as she takes the three of us in. She thrusts her tits even higher in the air, and she bites down on her bottom lip. She's hot, but she isn't Maci McKenzie—that's for sure.

We all order and then shoot the shit while we wait for our food. And even though I'm having fun with the guys, I miss Amelia.

And what's a little unsettling is … I miss the hell out of Maci too. I'm ready to be home with my girls. Both of them.