“A horse?” he guessed.

She nodded and then gestured for him to keep going. On the pad of paper in front of her was a stick figure of the common barnyard animal, and then beside that, she’d scribbled out a smaller version.

Tate frowned. “A pony?”

She shook her head and pointed to the first picture again, the big—

“Horse?”

Again, she nodded, and Tate could hear the rest of the group chuckling around the table as she then started to madly circle the small horse.

“Baby horse?”

No.

“Little horse?”

Negative.

Rachel’s eyes flicked to the hourglass and then to him, this time wildly animated as she impersonated her version of a neighing horse.

“I think that he got that it’s a horse, Rach.”

Rachel glared down at her brother, who then started to really laugh, and Tate heard Logan ask, “Is this charades now? I didn’t think we were supposed to make noise or act?”

Tate stared at the two pictures again before it suddenly hit him.

“Shetland pony?”

“Yes!” Rachel exclaimed, jumping out of her seat and launching herself around his neck. “Yes.”

Tate hugged her back and looked across the table at Logan, who quipped at the exact same time he did, “That’s what she said.”

The entire room roared then, and Lena stretched an arm out to grab the pad Rachel had been drawing on.

“How on Earth did you get Shetland pony from that?”

Rachel snatched it back and gave her sister-in-law a mock scowl. “Hey. I have talent. Major talent.”

Mason reached out and took the dice. He rolled and then moved his and Lena’s piece five spaces to the category—Difficult.

Looking toward his wife, he smiled and gestured toward the box. “It’s your turn to draw.”

“Why do I always get difficult?”

Mason shook his head. “I’m not touching that at all.”

Lena grumbled, and Tate heard Rachel cackle at her brother.

“Come on, Lena. Let’s see how connected you and Mase are.”

Lena reached out and grabbed her card. Looking at her category, she then peered down the table at the rest of them.

“It’s an All Play. So who’s drawing on each team?”

Tate raised his hand and saw that Logan and Cole were drawing also.

Should be interesting.

Lena started passing the card around, and Tate noticed that his pencil needed sharpening. He looked over to where the sharpener was sitting by Logan and held the pencil in his direction.

“Can you sharpen this for me, please?”

Logan leaned across the table and took the pencil from him. “You want me to play with your pencil, Tate?”

“Hilarious. The sharpener is right by you. You just have to pick it up and slide it in.”

As soon as the words left his mouth and Logan’s quirked into an arrogant line, Tate bit his tongue.

“Really? Did you really just say that to me?”

Feeling more comfortable than ever with Logan and this group, Tate shrugged and nodded. Time to give it to Logan as good as he gives.

“Yeah. Is there a problem? You just line it up…and slide it in.”

“You know, Tate—”

“Don't do it.” Tate cut him off as he moved his foot, the one he’d had sitting between Logan’s feet all night, so his shin bumped Logan’s calf.

“Do what?”

“Say something dirty. I know you're dying to, but just sharpen the pencil.”

Logan picked up the sharpener and made a big show of inserting the tip in the hole.

“Jesus,” Shelly muttered from beside Logan. “I thought Rachel and Cole were bad.”

Tate’s eyes never left Logan’s, and as if Shelly hadn’t even spoken, Logan said, “But being dirty with you is so easy.”

“Kinda like the smartass staring at me?” Tate asked.

He’d forgotten that others were even in the room and was now rubbing his leg against Logan and wishing it were his cock. Logan pulled the pencil out of the sharpener, and when he leaned forward to hand it back, Tate gripped it and waited for him to release it.

“You saying I'm easy?”

Tate grinned across at him and knew that this would drive him nuts, so he moved in and lowered his voice. “No…I'm guessing you're hard. Really fucking hard.”

When Logan’s mouth practically fell open, Tate yanked the pencil from his fingers and sat back in his chair with the smuggest look he’d ever given. Then he glanced around the silent table. All the men were gawking at them and the women were…

“Damn,” Rachel sighed, fanning her face. “I need a drink.”

“I need a cigarette,” Shelly said with a laugh.

Before he even thought about it, Tate reached into his jacket on the back of his chair, grabbed his pack, and threw it across the table.

She laughed as she picked them up, and then Josh finally spoke. “Don’t you even dare.”

And everyone howled with laughter.

Game night was a hit.

Logan’s brother and family were a lot of fun to be around, and as Logan continued watching him from across the table and they all started to play the next round, Tate found himself feeling comfortable.

It made him that much more hopeful that Sunday would go the same way.

* * *

It was close to midnight when things started to wrap up, and Logan was shocked—he’d actually had fun. He hadn’t been on Tate’s team all night, but he’d gotten to do the next best thing—watch, and he hadn’t taken his eyes off him.

He was in trouble. So much fucking trouble.

Somewhere between the elevator ride up to Cole’s and this very second, Logan realized exactly what he wanted, and it was all wrapped up in two words—Tate Morrison.

“Ready to admit it yet?”

Logan turned to face Cole, who had stepped beside him.

He raised his glass, draining it silently, and when it was empty, he admitted, “Maybe.”

“Well that’s better than pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Logan placed the glass on the kitchen counter and asked, “Surely I wasn’t this smug when you and Rachel hooked up?”

“You’re right. You were more so,” Cole was quick to reply.

“Were you this terrified?”

“Definitely.”

Logan looked back to where Tate was grinning at something Shelly had just said, and felt his hand shake as he twisted the glass in front of him.

“He’s…”

“Yes?”

“Jesus, you’re a pain.”

Cole put his hands on the counter and pinned him with his most serious of faces. “He’s not Chris, you know.”

Logan knew that, and when Rachel wrapped an arm through Tate’s and hugged him, Logan knew why he was so fucking scared.

“He’s nothing like Chris. He’s making me think about the things I’d decided weren’t for me.” Logan paused, not quite believing the words coming out of his mouth. “Almost like I dreamed him up.”

For a moment, a silent understanding stretched between them, and then Cole spoke. “He looks real enough to me. Maybe it’s time you let someone in. You deserve that.” Cole reached for the glass that looked as if it were about to end up on the floor. “You deserve to be happy.”

Tate chose that moment to glance over at them, and when he raised his brows as if to ask, ‘You ready?’ Logan had to wonder…am I?

“Go. Let him take you home. The way you’ve been watching him all night, I’m surprised you made it this long.”

Logan felt his lips quirk to the side as he turned to his brother. “Thanks. I actually had a good night.”

“Even though you can’t draw for shit?”

Logan chuckled. “Next time, tell Rachel we’re playing cards—poker to be exact. You always sucked at that.”

Cole’s mouth curved into a sly smile. “You may be surprised. Didn’t you hear Josh earlier? I’ve improved since college when you used to rob me of my money.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not my fault you didn’t know how to play.”

“Didn’t know how to play what?”

Logan saw Tate come to a stop beside him, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt nervous.