“I’m sure she’d be more than willing to fit you in. I know I always am. In fact, I’d be willing to fit you in right now.”

Tate came back out, his cell phone to his ear, took a seat beside him, and laughed, mouthing, “I’m sure you would.”

Logan tugged him back in close so he was practically lying across him, and when Tate stretched his legs out along the couch and put his head on his thigh, Logan ran his fingers through his hair.

Tate’s warm, chestnut-colored eyes found his, and just as he opened his mouth as if to speak, his gaze shifted and he said, “Hey, Rachel. It’s Tate.”

Chapter Six

As the elevator reached Mitchell & Madison’s floor on Monday morning, Logan checked his watch for the second time and cursed his bad luck. The damn traffic had made him late. Once the doors swished open, he hurried out and through the lobby, giving a quick wave to Tiffany as he headed straight through the glass doors toward his office.

It was bad enough that Cole was probably still pissed about everything that had happened Friday night, but add in that he was now late for the meeting Cole had scheduled for this morning and Logan would be surprised if steam wasn’t pouring out of his brother’s ears by the time they caught up with each other.

Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll get inside my office before that happens.

When he reached his PA, who held several files out to him and wished him a good morning, Logan offered her a tight smile and reciprocated. “Morning, Sherry. Is my nine-o’clock here already?”

She gave a swift nod and took his briefcase from him, pointing to the files she handed him.

“That’s all you need right there. He got here around ten minutes ago, so I set him up in your office with a coffee. He seems comfortable enough. Lovely man.”

Logan glanced down at the file in his hand as he started to walk toward his office door and then stopped in his tracks. LPCW Architecture. Damn it.

Well if that wasn’t a big “fuck you” from Cole, he didn’t know what was.

Spinning back to where Sherry was now sitting, Logan asked, “Are both of the owners here this morning?”

Sherry shook her head, and as the words, “Mr. Walker,” fell from her mouth, all other sound vanished.

Christopher Walker was waiting in his office for him right now, and of course, he was running fucking late. Thanks a lot, Cole. And yeah, great way for me to establish the upper hand.

“Mr. Mitchell?”

His name broke through his thoughts, and he caught the frown that was plastered across Sherry’s face.

“Was I supposed to let him wait in the lobby? I just assumed you’d want him comfortable, knowing he was a new client of ours.”

“No, no. You did the right thing. I’m just catching up. Running late has me a little unorganized.”

“That’s why you hired me, remember? Let me know if you need anything else.”

An escape route, maybe? “Thanks, Sherry. I will,” he ended up telling her. Then he turned to face the problem that was no doubt lying in wait, head fucking on.

Tate pulled his bike into the small parking lot behind the address Rachel had given him yesterday and turned off the ignition.

Exquisite. It hadn’t been hard to find once he’d looked it up. Located in central downtown Chicago, it was in one of the areas that, over the last few years, had undergone some serious overhauling to become revitalized, trendy, and, by the looks of their website, incredibly popular.

Mason Langley and Rachel Madison were the proud owners of a well-known and loved upscale bar and restaurant that had garnered rave reviews and a 4.9-star rating.

After securing his helmet to the back of his bike, Tate made his way toward the rear door, where Rachel had told him to enter. He took his gloves off and shoved them in the pocket of his jacket as the gravel of the parking lot crunched under his boots.

Am I really, seriously, thinking about doing this? He’d wanted it for years but had never really had the support to go any further than just thinking about it. But after talking it over with Logan and spending yesterday searching potential areas downtown with him, Tate was starting to believe maybe he could pull this off.

Stopping in front of the door, he knocked several times and then stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans to wait. The air was starting to get cooler these days, and it wouldn’t be long before the bitter cold of Chicago returned.

He craned his neck to look up at the high-rises surrounding them, reminded of Logan’s condo and his request that he move in. The idea of living with Logan scared him as much as it excited him.

He knew that, if he hadn’t been through a divorce and seen his life turned upside down once before, he would have said yes in a heartbeat, but that wasn’t the case. He had been through a messy relationship, one where trust was a major factor in why it had broken down, and even though he trusted Logan, he wanted to make sure he was capable of standing on his own two feet before he leaned on anyone else for support.

After the locks on the back door clicked and rattled, it was then pushed open and Mrs. Rachel Madison beamed out at him.

“Well, hello there,” she greeted and held her arms out for a hug.

Tate walked up the couple of stairs and embraced the radiant woman who’d welcomed him into her family from the very minute they’d met.

“Hey, Rachel. Thanks for meeting up with me today.”

She pulled back from him and playfully smacked him on the chest. Then she stepped aside and ushered him in. “Don’t thank me, silly. I’m happy to help. This is so exciting!”

Her exuberance was contagious as he followed her down the narrow hallway and past several offices. They stopped in a large restaurant-sized kitchen full of stainless-steel appliances and counters.

“So,” she said, rubbing her hands together with a huge grin. “Where do you want to start?”

Logan steeled himself as he reached for the handle to his office door and took a deep breath. You can do this. He’s nothing to you. Remember, you walked away from him.

Pushing through the door, he stepped inside and immediately scanned the space for Chris. When he saw nothing directly in front of him as he’d expected, he frowned—until a hand grabbed his from the side.

“About time you arrived,” Chris said, his familiar voice filling the air.

Logan glanced down at the man who sat forward on the edge of the couch and looked up at him. His blue eyes were raking over him in a way that used to make Logan’s temperature rise, but now, all he felt was stone cold.

Yanking his hand free, he continued over to his desk without saying a word and then dumped the files on it as Chris stood. He was dressed in a tailored, black suit, a navy-blue shirt, and a tie, and although he was as attractive as Logan remembered, the sight of him made him feel ill.

“Have to say, Logan, as far as first impressions go, being late isn’t a good one.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed as Chris started to walk in his direction, and he ordered himself to stay fucking still. He didn’t know what he would do if he moved, afraid he might launch himself at the smug bastard and punch him.

“Your appointment wasn’t until nine. It’s five minutes past. It’s not my fault you came early.”

Chris stopped when only a few feet separated them, lowering his eyes to Logan’s mouth.

“That’s certainly not how I remember it. You used to always be the reason I came early. You were so fucking sexy,” he mused. “You still are.”

Logan pushed away from his desk and straightened, telling himself to keep his mouth shut. No good could possibly come from engaging Chris in a visit down memory lane.