Chapter 6

MAGGIE

The car ride is filled with awkward silence. I can’t tell anything from Logan’s expressions. He was quiet throughout the reception and didn’t want to stay long, so we decided to leave, but now he refuses to even talk to me.

It would be an understatement if I said I’m disappointed about my wedding day.

Not that I had any conventional expectations from my wedding, but I’ve always wanted to at least be on friendly terms with my husband. I think that’s not asking too much, but I guess my expectations are too high.

I don’t know what to expect of Logan. Maybe he’s just going to treat me like a breeding machine. That’s the only reason he even agreed to marry me in the first place. He needs an heir, and my father needs the money.

I let my gaze travel to him in the driving seat. He appears to be deep in thought. His eyes are fixed in front of him.

The lights on the road illuminate his face, making his baby-blues look like midnight. It takes my breath away each time I think of this man as my husband.

He catches me staring and looks at me in question, “Something wrong?”

“Just thinking about how many ladies must have gotten their hearts broken tonight.”

He smiles, and that’s the first time he’s given me a genuine smile all evening. He doesn’t open up easily. I’m going to have a hard time unraveling him. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Why, of course, it does. You could have gotten married to any of those elegant, suave ladies, but now you’re stuck with a woman who has a debt to clear and you’re going to raise a child that’s not yours.”

“If it weren’t you, my father would still force me to marry somebody. It could have been a shallow woman who wanted me for worse reasons. You’re not a terrible bargain, Maggie. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“What a wonderful compliment to receive from my husband on my wedding day!”

He gives me a strange look.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s just strange to hear you call me your husband.”

“What else do you prefer me to call you? Grandpa?”

He chuckles. “Now that’s taking it too far, but be completely honest with me. If it weren’t for our fathers ganging upon us, you wouldn’t be considering marrying me.”

I laugh, lightly hitting his shoulder. I’m definitely flirting with him. “I’ve been told that my taste in men sucks, so I could have ended up with a bank robber or a serial killer, and my dad already knew that.”

“And now you’re stuck with someone who is almost two decades older than you.”

“Age is a number. Besides, I’m not interested in boys. I like mature men, so you’re good.”

He goes silent for a moment, and I think I’ve stepped too far.

“Call me curious, but where’s Chase’s father?”

I bite the side of my cheek. That’s not the subject I want to talk about. Flirt with me all you want, but don’t talk about that little bitch who left his responsibilities.

It’s as if Logan senses that it makes me uncomfortable to talk about that man, because he says, “It’s all right if you don’t want to tell me. I just wanted to know. Are you still in love with him?”

“No,” I say almost too quickly.

I don’t like to dig up old skeletons and the topic of Chase’s father makes me want to drag my nails on a chalkboard. “You don’t need to worry about him.”

He nods. “Wanted to make sure.”

The car pulls up into a resort. It’s dark outside, so I can’t see much, but it’s a lovely place with a pool, Jacuzzi, and a tropical-themed bar.

The valet takes our bags, and we’re welcomed by some refreshing-looking drinks. I take small sips of the aqua-blue drink, but inside I’m a nervous wreck.

When we’re both in the suite alone, I take my time to look around.

It’s a fairly big suite for just two people. The bed is decorated with red roses, a big heart is in the center, and the entire room is illuminated by small, dim lights.

I check the bathroom to find a Jacuzzi filled with rose petals. Behind me, Logan doesn’t say a word as he tips the hotel staff, and then he’s busy putting his luggage into the closet.

I notice that he’s loosening his tie, but he doesn’t make eye contact.

I walk into the bedroom and start unpacking my essentials. I don’t know what to say to him.

What does a bride say to her groom on their first night? Do I start undressing?

He’s still not looking in my direction. Maybe he’s waiting for me to take the lead. I clear my throat, which causes him to finally look at me.

“Can you unzip me?” I’m brave for someone who’s going to die of heart failure because of how nervous I am.

“Sure.” He walks to me and starts pulling down the zipper of my dress slowly. He barely touches me while he does this, but that doesn’t stop the tingles that rise over my skin.

The zipper is pulled down to my waist. “Done.” He steps back and goes back to unpacking some of his things.

“Um…I’ll take a shower first,” I blurt out.

“Okay,” he says.

The shower is relaxing. It helps me calm my nerves a little. I use the razor to shave any small hairs that catch my eye.

It’s not like I’m hoping something is going to happen tonight, not when Logan is acting like I have some contagious disease.

I put on a lacy silk lavender chemise underneath a matching short robe. It’s sexy and inviting. I’m not sure if this is something he would like, but the saleslady told me that it makes me look like an older woman.

I let my hair cascade over my shoulders in waves, leaving a few tendrils loose around my cheeks.

I take off all my makeup, but apply a bit of light shimmery lip-gloss. Taking one look into the mirror, I walk out of the bathroom.

Logan’s seated in the chair by the fireplace. He looks up from his iPad when he sees me.

He stares at me for a second, and I wonder if I should strike a pose.

Maybe climbing onto the bed is enough to give him an invitation like I know the entire reason we are even married is that he needs a child so it would make sense that he would want to get down to work.

“I’ll go next,” he says as he walks away.

I sit on the bed and pretend to scroll through my phone. My ears are open as I listen to the shower. When it goes off finally, a bunch of butterflies takes flight in my stomach.

He walks out of there with a towel draped over his waist. I sit back and admire the vast expanse of his tanned chest and the light dusting of dark hair that disappears into the towel.

Wordlessly, he dries his hair with a blow dryer and then proceeds to put on his clothes.

I have all these R-rated images flashing through my head where Logan drops the towel by mistake and then there’s the one where we’re both naked, and he’s sliding inside me.

A blush creeps onto my cheeks.

I’m still watching him shamelessly as he moves around the bedroom with ease. After he’s done putting on a T-shirt and pants, he looks at me once. “I’ll be in the other room. I have some work to do.”

“Oh,” I manage to say pathetically.

“Don’t stay up for me. I’ll come to bed when I’m done with my work.”

“Okay.”

He walks away, and I sink back into the fluffy pillows with mixed emotions of both relief and disappointment.

My eyes get heavy. I think it’s the exhaustion of the wedding day that takes over, but I refuse to sleep.

LOGAN

I’m good at handling one-night stands. There are no awkward conversations or obligations after the night, but a wedding night is dangerous territory.

I never planned to continue with the conventional rituals of a wedding night, but it seems like Maggie has some other expectations.

She is dressed in a nightie that is almost see-through and raunchy. If she’s trying to send a message, it’s already come across.

She’s gorgeous, and any man would have already thrown his underwear out the window and worshiped at her feet.

I get it. She’s okay with sleeping with me tonight, but I don’t think I can go forward with this. It shouldn’t be any different than a one-night stand.

The only difference is I know this person is going to be my permanent sex partner from this day forward, but somehow, I’ve got cold feet.

I pour myself a drink and sit down in the adjoining room, letting the reality of this situation sink in.

I’ve told Maggie that I’m working tonight, but I can’t concentrate on anything other than the bride that I’ve possibly kept waiting in bed.

Maybe if I talked this out with her, it would be a hell of a lot easier.

I down the remaining glass of scotch and walk out of the room with a mission.

Maggie pulls herself into a sitting position when she sees me. The room is already dark, but the light from her phone makes it easier for me to see her face.

I turn on the little lamp at the side of the bed. “You’re still awake?” I ask her, hoping she doesn’t catch the nervousness in my voice.

She smiles. “I’m a light sleeper. What about you? Are you done with your work?”

“Mostly,” I lie, and then I take my chances and sit down beside her on the bed.

She stiffens when I lean onto my side, but she doesn’t move away. She smells so good. I don’t know how I’m going to keep myself in check.

“Can I kiss you?” I try.

She laughs. “You’re my husband. You can more than kiss me.”