Logan bristled at his tone. “Do I need to call my lawyer?”
“I don’t know, do you? I guess if you have something to hide…”
There was no other option but to climb out. Logan gritted his teeth as he pulled the door open, then followed Carl to the cruiser. Carl pulled the back door open, telling Logan to sit inside, then walked back to Logan’s rental to search it.
As each minute passed, Logan could feel his blood boiling. There was no reason for Carl to search his car. Certainly no reason to go through his damn suitcase. He gritted his teeth as the cop methodically rifled through his clothes, his gifts, even the framed photograph of the baby’s ultrasound picture Courtney had given to him for Christmas.
Yeah, Carl took a lot of time staring at that.
Finally, he zipped the case back up and closed the trunk, walking back to the cruiser with a dark expression.
He wrenched the door open, inclining his head for Logan to climb out. “You don’t deserve her, you know?”
Logan sighed loudly. “That’s none of your business.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Courtney’s definitely my business. She might think you’re some kind of hero, but I know exactly what you are. A rich asshole who sweeps in and disrupts everything. You’re gonna let her down and break her heart, and guess who’ll be here to pick up the pieces? Why don’t you do us all a favor and stay in Boston?”
Logan stared at him for a moment, taking in the close-cropped hair, the twisted nose, and watery blue eyes that looked like the creek after a storm. “Courtney’s having my baby. I intend to be around for good.”
Carl pressed his lips together, his jaw twitching. For a long moment the two men stared at each other, the silence only punctuated by the whistling wind dancing through the roadside trees.
Carl swallowed hard. “You can go now…” he said, his voice low. “But remember this. If you ever hurt her, I’ll make sure you fucking regret it. She’s a Roberts and she always will be.”
Logan lifted a brow. “You know what will hurt her?” he asked, refusing to back down. “People like you deciding what’s best for her. She’s chosen me. And I’m sorry if that makes you feel like shit, but it’s the way it is. And I’m pretty fucking stoked that she’s having my baby. So pull me over all you like if it makes you feel better, because that’s all you can do. You can’t stop her from being with me, and that’s killing you inside.” He shrugged. “Now have a nice day, I have a flight to catch.”
Logan took his license back from Carl
and began to walk away.
“I could make your life hell,” Carl called out.
“If you want to lose your job, go ahead.” Logan didn’t look back. “The next time you stop me you better have a damn good reason for doing so, otherwise I will be talking to my attorney.”
“In that case, you better watch out,” Carl shouted as Logan opened the door to his SUV. “People like you always slip up. You think you’re better than the rest of us. That the rules don’t apply to you.”
Gritting his teeth, Logan climbed into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind him. He had nothing else to say to Carl Roberts. The man was fucking power-drunk.
And right now, he needed to get back to Boston.
“That went better than expected.” Paris pulled the cork from a dusty bottle of expensive Cabernet, as they sat in the almost-finished restaurant a few days later. “I thought they were going to give us more bad news. But now we can really start planning for the opening.” She poured them both a glass of the ruby red wine. “Here you go, cheers.”
“Cheers.” Logan lifted the glass to his lips, savoring the dark fruity bouquet. Though they had a professional who bought all the wines for their restaurants, he still took an interest in the suppliers. Last year, he’d spent a few days at the Crock Ham Estate in California, tasting the results of the previous year’s vintage. One of the selling points of their restaurants was their attention to detail. Everything had to be perfect. And they charged accordingly.
“Alicia is coming in tomorrow to finalize the plans for opening night,” Paris said, looking at him over the rim of her glass. Alicia Duvall was their go-to event planner, and a well known figure in the Boston social scene. She and Paris were close friends. “Can you believe it’s only three and a half weeks away? I know we’ve had that date in mind forever, but it feels like we have so much to do.” Paris widened her eyes in mock-surprise. “We have to have the final tasting this weekend. The chef will need that time to make sure he has all the ingredients and train the staff. Shall we do it on Saturday?”
“I’m busy on Saturday.” Logan ran the pad of his finger along his jaw. It was rough from a day’s beard growth. “Courtney’s visiting.”
“As in Courtney, your baby mama?” Paris asked. “Does she even know what an airplane is?”
“Don’t call her that.” Logan frowned. “And of course she knows what a plane is.”
“I wasn’t sure she’d want to leave the exciting town y’all come from.” Paris exaggerated a country drawl. “But you should bring her to the tasting. The more the merrier. I’ll ask a gang as well, get their feedback.” She smiled.
Logan looked at her for a minute, trying to decide whether she was being a bitch or not. “Okay,” he said slowly. “I’ll bring her.”
“Good.” Paris nodded. “It’s about time we met. I’ll get to look her over, show her how busy the restaurant business is. That way when you need to work rather than bathe a screaming baby she’ll understand.”
“About that.” Logan ran his finger around the rim of his half-empty wine glass. “I’m looking for a house to buy in Hartson’s Creek.”