“ALL RISE.”

THE bailiff’s voice cut through the tense courtroom as Judge Wilson emerged from his chambers and took his seat behind the bench. It had been ten minutes since the defendant’s attorney had called for a recess, and the time for negotiations was coming to an end as Logan Mitchell got to his feet and buttoned his suit jacket.

He glanced over at Paul Bishop, the tight-assed prick in the horrible tweed suit who had been a thorn in Logan’s side for the past seven months. But this time when their eyes met, a smug smile crossed Logan’s lips, because what was about to happen was going to be real fucking sweet.

He, and twelve other associates at his firm, had been working tirelessly on a class action suit involving one of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in the country, Berivax, and after his client had taken the witness stand, Logan knew he had this one in the bag—and so did Bishop.

The fight had been hard and drawn out, as one would expect of a giant corporation, but when Bishop leaned down and scribbled a number on a piece of paper, Logan turned to his client and winked. He so had this.

“Please… Take a seat. Take a seat,” Judge Wilson said with a wave of his hand.

Everyone in the courtroom complied, except for Bishop, who handed Logan the piece of paper. He took the note and was pleased to see Bishop’s frown as he moved back to his side of the courtroom. Logan read over the message then, and barely managed to stop his jaw from hitting the table he was seated behind.

Thirty-five million. Shit. They’d been willing to take fifteen. But thirty-five? Holy. Fucking. Shit. Schooling his features, Logan slid the paper over to the woman beside him. He inclined his head once, and as she read the note, her eyes widened. No words were needed.

After months of discovery, depositions, and court dates, this case was finally going to be over, and they’d just received an offer that was well over what he’d been instructed they’d be willing to take. He had just won them the motherlode.

“Okay, you two,” Judge Wilson said, looking between Bishop and Logan. “Did you manage to come to some kind of settlement, or am I going to be making a decision for you today? Because either way, we will be wrapping this case up before that clock hits four. Do you hear me?”

Bishop got to his feet without sparing a glance in Logan’s direction and said, “Yes, Your Honor. We’ve come to an agreement.”

“I’m so pleased to hear it,” Wilson said as his eyes shifted to Logan. “And I assume you share this consensus, Mr. Mitchell.”

Logan stood once again, and pushed his glasses up his nose. “We do, Your Honor.”

“Good. In that case, go and settle it,” Wilson said as he looked between them and picked up his gavel. “Court is adjourned.”

As he brought the wooden hammer down, calling the session—and trial—to an end, the courtroom exploded in chatter, and Logan caught his client Renate Aleman pushing back from the table to stand.

“You did it,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe they gave us what we were asking for.”

“More,” Logan said as he bent to pick his briefcase up off the floor. He placed it on the table and started to load his files inside it. “They gave us more. They offered to settle at thirty-five, and that’s because of you. You did great up there on the stand, Renate. That’s what finally had them caving.”

“On that we can agree,” someone said from behind Logan. He turned around to see Bishop standing in the aisle of the courtroom with a document in hand and a pinched expression on his face. “You barely had a case until you got her up there.”

Logan had to resist the urge to roll his eyes as he reached for the paperwork. “Don’t be a sore loser, Bishop. Your client makes that much money in a couple of hours.”

Logan took the papers and placed them inside his case so he could take them back to the office and have everyone sign.

“You know,” Bishop said, his gaze drifting over Logan’s shoulder to Renate and then coming back to rest on his face, “one of these days you’re going to bite off more than you can chew, Mitchell.”

Logan shut his briefcase and made sure to lock it before he took it by the handle and looked Bishop directly in the eye. “I don’t think so. You see, I’m very careful about what I put in my mouth because it’s my motto to always swallow. But you have a good evening, Bishop. I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure, but… Let’s just leave it at ‘see you next time.’”

“Whatever, Mitchell.” Bishop turned and walked out of the courtroom, and with all of his belongings packed away, Logan waited for Renate to pass by and then dug his cell phone out of his pants pocket.

Cole was going to pass out when he heard the final number, and Logan would be damned if anyone but him got to deliver the news. As he pushed open the doors to the courtroom, Logan told Renate to head back to the office, where they’d all meet up, and then he called Cole’s number and brought his phone to his ear.

It didn’t take long, two rings and then, “How’d it go?”

“Well, hello to you too, brother,” Logan said as he wove his way through the busy halls of the courthouse.

“Yeah, yeah, hi. So? How’d it go?”

As Logan crossed the polished floor of the main lobby, he chuckled. “Cole, is Jane nearby?” he asked, figuring his brother might need his personal assistant to administer CPR once he found out the figure Berivax had finally settled on.

“She’s around. Why? Logan, just spit it out. What number did they come in at?”

Logan pushed through one of the large revolving doors and walked out to the top stair of the courthouse. As the sun warmed him, he took a rare chance to soak it in. Damn, it was going to be nice to slow things down and start getting home at a decent hour again.

“Logan?” Cole said. “What number?”

Logan started down the steps, determined to get back to the office and be done with this so he could meet up with Tate, take him out somewhere fancy for dinner, and then…

“Thirty-five,” he said when he reached the sidewalk. Silence met his ear, and Logan allowed Cole a second to process. “Are you still breathing over there?”

“Did…did you just say thirty-five?” Cole asked.

“I did.”

The sound of a leather chair creaking alerted Logan that Cole had likely just fallen into his.

“Fuck me,” Cole muttered.

Logan checked both directions of the road he was crossing, and then headed over to where he’d parked his car. “I’ll pass, if it’s all the same to you.”

“That’s twenty over what we expected,” Cole said, ignoring the comment.

“I know.”

“Thirty-five…” Cole said again, and the disbelief in his voice matched the feeling Logan had had when he’d opened that piece of paper.

“I know. All I can say is thank God I was sitting when Bishop gave it to me. You should’ve seen his face.” Logan laughed. “This one really burned his ass.”

“I bet. He doesn’t like you on the best of days, let alone losing to you on something as big as this. Jesus, that’s unbelievable.”

“It sure is. That’s seven million coming our way.”

“I…I can’t even process it yet,” Cole said. “But shit, all those late nights finally paid off, didn’t they?”

Logan wasn’t so sure about that. As exhilarating as it was to have won today, he was more than aware it had come with a price—and that price was his private life. The hours he’d had to put into this case had been draining, and weekends? They had been nonexistent. And though Tate said everything was fine and that he understood, Logan hated the fact that he couldn’t remember the last time the two of them had gone out on a simple date together.

It wasn’t only him, either—business at The Popped Cherry was booming, which meant Tate was working nearly every night. And while both of their businesses were thriving, they’d gotten themselves into a routine where they hardly saw each other except when one was crawling out of their bed to leave. Not a sight Logan was fond of.

He hit the button on his keychain, unlocking his Audi R8, and slipped inside, tossing his briefcase on the passenger seat. “I don’t know about that, Cole. I’m tired. This took a lot out of me.” Logan paused and ran a hand over his face before giving voice to the question that was now suddenly on a loop in his head. “Hey? Do you and Rachel ever, you know, get… Ugh, I don’t know.” He sighed, not knowing what he was trying to say.

“Get into a funk?” Cole asked.

“A funk?”

“Yeah. A routine.”

Logan thought about that. “I suppose that’s what I’m trying to say.”

“Of course,” Cole said, as though that was supposed to make Logan feel better—it didn’t. “It’s part of being in a relationship. I know that might be foreign to you—”

“Bite me.”

“But it’s normal. People get busy.”

“Seriously? That’s all you’ve got?” Logan said, and shut his eyes as he laid his head back against the headrest. “I’ve never been too busy before.”

“You’ve never been with someone long enough to get busy.”

“You know, sometimes I really question the reason I ask you anything…ever.”

Cole chuckled. “It’s because I bring you clarity, and I know you better than almost anyone. Let me guess: you and Tate have been so busy with work that you’ve hardly had time for one another lately.”

“Ugh,” Logan groaned. “When you say it like that, we sound so—”

“Committed?”

“Shut up.”

Cole’s amusement only incensed Logan further.

“It’s not a dirty word, you know. With two kids under five, Rach and I have had periods like that. Trust me, I get it. It sucks.”

“Well, in this case, it doesn’t suck often enough. That’s the point.”

“Logan, you just wrapped up a seven-month case. Tate knows that. Call him, take him out to dinner. Tell him how you’re feeling.”

Yeah… That was something Logan had never been really great at. Although he’d gotten much better since Tate. Logan ran a hand through his hair and silently berated himself. He knew Cole was right, and hated that he’d let his and Tate’s relationship slip into this place where he felt unsure of it. It was the whole commitment thing. He hadn’t done that before Tate. And though they shared their lives, and had done so happily for the last four years, after attending their friend’s wedding a few months ago, Logan had become acutely aware that that trip away had been the first one they’d had together in a long time.

When had they become so…settled?

Shit. What the fuck is the matter with me? It wasn’t like Tate had said anything about being bored or upset. But maybe he was thinking it? No way, that’s ridiculous. Even for you, Mitchell.

“Okay, you’re right,” Logan finally said. “So, how about you let me go so I can call Tate? A celebration is in order, and no offense, I’d rather do it with him.”

“None taken. I have a good mind to do the same.”

“Well, you can go get your own date. He’s mine. Plus, I don’t think Rachel would approve.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“Sometimes,” Logan said, and started the car thinking of all the things he wanted to discuss with Tate when he finally caught up with him. “I’m heading back to the office to have everyone sign what needs signing, then I’m out.”

“Of course. But don’t think you’re leaving without having a drink first.”

“Have a glass of that fancy Macallan waiting for me. I don’t plan to stick around for long.”

“You got it. And Logan? Great job today, really. You deserve a fucking raise. Talk to your boss about that, would you?”

“Yeah, I just might do that,” Logan said, pulling out onto the side street.

“See you soon.”

“See ya,” Logan said, and as soon as Cole hung up, he called Tate, set in his resolve that no matter what his bartender was up to tonight, he was coming out.

* * *

“WE NEED THREE bottles of Knob Creek and five of the Silver Patrón, and that’s the last of it,” Amelia said as she turned to Tate, who was sitting at the end of the bar jotting the numbers down on his spreadsheet.

They’d just finished taking inventory, and were getting ready to open for the happy hour crowd that would start arriving anytime now. Wednesday night—Hump Night—was one of the busiest nights of the week at The Popped Cherry, and as Amelia headed to the end of the bar so she could go and unlock the door, Tate stopped her.

“Hey, before we open, I wanted to talk to you for a minute,” he said, and when a frown furrowed her forehead, Tate grinned. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.”

She pushed the bar pass up and came around to take a seat on the stool beside him, bumping his shoulder with hers as she took a sip of her bottled water.

Over the last four years, Amelia had become a good friend to both him and Logan, and at work she was an absolute lifesaver. As part-time manager, she was quick and efficient, and had a personality that drew people in, which resulted in amazing tips and repeat customers, which was why he wanted to talk with her today. Tate had wondered if maybe she’d like to take on a little more responsibility and make a bit more money with some extra hours. One, because she was great at her job, and two, because it would free him up in the late evenings. Let him scale back somewhat.

When he’d first opened the bar, Tate had known he would be putting in late nights and that it would be difficult with Logan’s hours to make time for the two of them. But Logan had always been great about coming by after work so they could crash in the loft upstairs. That was until these last few weeks when this case Logan had been working on had gone into overdrive. It was one of the most demanding lawsuits Mitchell & Madison had taken on, and had practically taken over their lives, which had Logan and Tate’s schedules all over the place to where they’d barely seen one another. And damn if he wasn’t sick of barely getting ten minutes of Logan’s time here and there. He missed the hell out of him.

“So what’s up, boss?” Amelia asked, her blond ponytail swinging as she placed her arm on the counter.

Tate tapped the pencil he held on the bar and shoved aside those thoughts as he smiled at Amelia. “Nothing bad. It’s just I’m thinking of stepping back a little, and I need to hire someone to take on the later hours and closing up, that kind of thing. And I was wondering if you’d be interested in the position. It’d come with a pay raise, of course.”

Amelia twisted the bottle back and forth before saying, “Aww, Tate, I’m sorry. I was actually going to talk to you tonight about giving my two weeks’ notice.”

“What? Why?” he asked as his phone started to vibrate in front of him. “Are you unhappy?”

“No. Nothing like that,” she said, placing her hand on his arm. “I hate doing this, because you and Logan, you’re just the best. But I got accepted into nursing school and I signed up to attend full time.”

“Oh. Okay, umm, that’s not a problem, really,” he said, even as he thought about the hole her absence would leave. Amelia knew The Popped Cherry almost as well as he did. Not to mention their easy camaraderie and history. Trying to find someone that fit in even a tenth of the way she did was going to be close to impossible. “I’ll put out an ad tomorrow and start interviewing for a full-time manager then. We’ll find someone, don’t worry.” Seeing that it was Logan calling, he picked up the cell and said to Amelia, “Would you mind sitting in on the interviews once they’re scheduled, though? Just to get a feel for the people?”

“No. Not at all,” she said. “And I’ll be available to train them, of course.”

Tate smiled and nodded as she slipped off the chair and headed over to the front doors to officially open for the night.

Okay, well, that was the first thing he’d do tomorrow morning: put out an ad. Or maybe even tonight. He gathered up his clipboard and, as he stood, hit accept on the phone. “Hello, counselor. How’d the big case go today?”

Tate had been eyeing the clock all afternoon waiting to hear the outcome of the Berivax trial, and while he was happy it was finally going to be over, he also hoped all of Logan’s hard work had paid off.

“When was the last time we had sex?” Logan’s question was so blunt and unexpected it had Tate stumbling over his response for a second, and when he didn’t answer, Logan continued, “You don’t know, do you?”

The side of Tate’s mouth twitched at Logan’s disgusted tone. “Well, to be fair, you caught me off guard. I had to think for a minute.”

“And now that you’ve had time to think?”

“Umm…”

“Oh my God. You can’t remember,” Logan said, and Tate couldn’t stop his laugh then. “That’s fucking shameful.”

“We’ve just been—”

“Don’t say it—”

“—busy.” Tate headed over to the door that separated the bar from the tiny foyer and stairwell that went up to their loft, shut it behind himself, and took a seat on one of the steps. “Well, we have been. This case of yours has taken up most of your time, and with the bar hours we just got…busy.”

“Yeah? Well, that shit needs to stop. Right now.”

Tate leaned his shoulder against the wall and shut his eyes, picturing Logan with his jet-black hair, those piercing blue eyes, and that full, sensual mouth. Tate had barely had time to say goodbye to him this morning, and no matter how much he was laughing it off, Logan was right—this not seeing one another was bullshit. They needed to sit down and work something out, now that Logan’s schedule would be returning to something more manageable.

“Agreed,” Tate said. “Something needs to change.”

“Good. How about we discuss it at dinner?”

Tate winced. “I’m here until one.”

“Can’t you beg Amelia to stay and come meet me?” Logan asked, and if he hadn’t sounded quite so desperate, Tate might not have caved.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“What am I going to get if I come to you?”

Logan’s voice lowered to a tone that never failed to make Tate hard. “Me. All night. And maybe again in the morning. I’m in a giving kind of mood.”

Tate swallowed and stretched his legs out in front of himself, suddenly needing a little more room in his jeans. “All night, huh? It’s been a while since that happened.”

“It has. So come find me and I’ll rectify that little issue you’re having with remembering our weekend away at the cabin. That was the last time my cock was inside you.”

“Jesus, Logan.” Tate pressed a palm to his erection, recalling the weekend trip they’d made around three weeks ago. Or maybe it was four. Shit, okay. They did need to work something out if he was having trouble remembering that. “Let me get things settled here and I’ll be at your office in”—he checked his watch—“an hour? Hour and a half?”

“Perfect,” Logan said. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Logan?” Tate said before Logan could hang up.

“Hmm?”

“You never did say—how’d court go today?”

“Oh.” Tate could hear the satisfied smile in Logan’s voice when he replied, “They settled for thirty-five million.”

Tate’s mouth fell open, and when he finally managed to shut it again, he said, “Wow, that’s… Wow. Congratulations. Why didn’t you tell me that first?”

“Because there was something more important to discuss,” Logan said as though it should’ve been obvious, and Tate couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“Your priorities are—”

“Spot fucking on for the first time in months. An hour, Tate.”

Tate got to his feet and opened the door to the bar, just as eager as Logan was to meet up. “An hour. See you then.”

“I’ll be here.”

And with that, Logan disconnected and Tate went to hunt down Amelia to ask one final favor.