All the while, I watched his ass flex in the tight, worn blue jeans that he’d slipped on instead of his sweatpants.
He also had on brown work boots, a black t-shirt, and a black ball cap.
Overall, he looked very handsome…and very different from his work uniform.
“Was that the Maxwells?” I asked as I shoved my phone back into my pocket.Chapter 18Time has a way of slipping away from you. Especially when you’re on season seven, episode four of Supernatural.
-Logan’s Secret thoughts
Logan
The sound of Katy’s voice behind me had me grinning as I turned to watch her skip toward me.
Shoving my phone into my front pocket, I nodded once and shifted the weight I was carrying to my other arm.
The girl didn’t look like she weighed much, but the longer that I held her, the heavier she got.
“What did they have to say?” she asked as she pushed her phone into the back pocket of her jeans.
I winced when the girl in my arms hit a particularly loud note.
“They said that they were leaving Alaska,” he said. “They’d be here in about six and a half hours, give or take.”
She blinked. “That was fast.”
“That’s what money gets you,” I told her. “They live in Anchorage. Darius owns his own oil company. Nina works for him. Needless to say, they have more money than the entire town of Anchorage combined. Hell, probably more than their town and our town, plus Dallas.”
Her brows rose.
“They’re rich.” I chuckled.
“So, they have the money to fight for this one?” Katy asked. “We should start calling her a different name. It’s weird calling her Logan.”
“Tasia calls her Gibby,” I said. “We could call her that.”
Katy looked at the child and said, “Gibby, do you want my phone?”
Gibby hiccupped, but her crying had slowed.
“Huh,” she said.
A couple pushing their quiet kid in a stroller nodded at us as we passed, looking at us with sympathy.
“It gets better, man,” the male said. “Soon they’ll only cry when you tell them no.”
The woman, who I assumed was his wife, snickered.
“Thanks,” I said.
“No problem,” the man saluted. “Good luck.”
I grimaced down at Katy.
“She doesn’t look like you at all,” she said softly. “How did anyone ever believe her when she said that Gibby was yours?”
I thought about that long and hard.
“Everyone at the station was more than aware that we were trying to have kids. Tasia told everyone everything. Whoever would listen she would tell that we were struggling to have kids. They probably assume that we used a donor.” I shrugged.
“Does she look like Paydon?” she asked.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and quickly navigated to Facebook. From there I went to search for Paydon.
When I had a picture of him up, I held it beside the screaming child’s face.
“Holy shit,” she breathed. “Holy shit!”
I nodded once. “Every bit her father.”
“Holy shit!” she repeated.
I grinned and looked at the little girl who now had snot running down her face.
I pulled out the tissues I’d stuffed into my back pocket for this very reason and cleaned her face.
She screamed even louder.
“We’re almost there,” she told me, taking my phone from my hand and tapping away, I assumed looking at the other pictures.
We were rounding the last bend of the walking trail when the McDonald’s came into sight.
And so did her parents.
“They’re already there,” I said to the woman at my side.
“Good,” she said without looking up. “Who’s this woman?”
She showed me one of the women that I worked with.
“Sheri Tucker. Cop. Why?” I asked.
“She’s pretty. And she’s in this picture with you.” She showed me the picture.
I grinned.
“That was taken last year at a charity function before everyone started hating me because I left my wife,” I said.
She turned to me.
“Everyone hates you?” she murmured.
I shrugged. “They don’t like me, that’s for sure.”
I was just lucky to be at the new station at this point. Everyone that was at that particular station either A, didn’t care or B, didn’t know me that well, meaning they didn’t know my history.
And those that did know, knew the whole story, not the one that Tasia had let loose far and wide.
“Logan,” she sighed. “Is that why my dad has such a problem with you?”
I shrugged. “I don’t pretend to know what goes on in the chief’s mind,” I admitted. “But other than the things that I’ve already told you about…I have no idea. Those aren’t enough?”
She scrunched up her nose and waved at her parents.
“Katerina Roberts, get over here!” Katy’s mother, Reese, ordered briskly.
She was holding a Happy Meal in one hand, and a kid’s drink in the other.
Her eyes were on the three of us, and she did not look happy.
“Mom,” Katy said as she rushed forward, throwing her arms around Reese’s shoulders. “What do we do to get her to stop?”