When he put a crumpled piece of paper down on the table, Tate saw the circled address written at the bottom of the sheet with: Perfect location. Decent price. Show Logan. Tell him yes.

Tate took Logan’s hand in his and tugged him forward, asking in a low voice, “You kept this?”

Logan swallowed, trying to keep his own emotions at bay. But when Tate wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed his ear, he nodded.

“Yes, and I’ve been waiting.” When Tate pulled back, Logan smiled. “Show me.”

As Logan executed a perfect parallel park, Tate sat in the passenger’s seat beside him, staring at the empty building on the corner of the block. The wall of windows that ran up the side of the property called to him just as they had the first time he’d seen them, and as he looked across the street, he was happy in that instant that he had no memory of what had occurred after he’d said goodbye to Rachel that day.

Logan turned the ignition off and faced him in the car. “This is the place, right?”

Tate nodded and reached for the jacket he’d thrown on the back seat before he passed Logan his burgundy scarf.

Logan unlocked the doors and asked, “Then what are you waiting for, Mr. Morrison? Show me.”

Tate took a deep breath and then opened the car door. As the chilly air hit him, he pulled his coat on and zipped it while Logan came around the front of the car, wrapping the scarf around his neck. With his glasses on and his black coat buttoned over his dark jeans, Logan looked amazing. He reached for his hand, and Tate took it without hesitation.

They crossed the street and made their way around to the front double doors, where the same woman who’d shown him and Rachel the property the first time was waiting.

“Mr. Morrison. What a pleasure to see you again,” she gushed, extending her hand.

Tate reached for it, and as they shook, she moved her eyes to Logan and smiled.

“And…?”

“Sorry, this is Logan,” he told her. As she let his hand go, he added, “And please, call me Tate.”

“Okay, then, Tate. Let’s get inside and out of this brutal wind.” She unlocked the doors and then pushed one open, holding it for the two of them to pass by.

The space was just as he remembered it—with the bar already in place and in great condition. The afternoon sun streamed in from the large windows, lighting up the seating area to the left.

Hand in hand, they took the three steps leading down to the main floor, and when Logan stopped, Tate turned to see him unbuttoning his coat.

“As you know, from your last visit, the space also comes with the loft area above. That’s still included in the price, and since you last checked it out, the seller has dropped it a little.”

While she continued to talk, rattling off facts and figures, Tate leaned his back against the bar and put his elbows on top of it, watching Logan wander around the space. He liked seeing him there.

Logan was clearly listening to everything the realtor was saying, as was he, and with every new piece of information, he’d nod his head with a look of concentration furrowing his brow.

Once she finished her spiel, Tate took a step away from the bar and asked if she could give them a minute to check out the loft. She agreed, gave him the key to the door, and then told them to take their time. She would do some work in her car.

Tate made his way over to the closed, wooden door with the square glass panel and rested his shoulder against the jamb, keeping a close eye on Logan as he silently made his way over to him. He was trying to gauge his thoughts, but he should’ve known better. Logan had a killer poker face.

“There’s a loft?” he asked.

Tate nodded and unlocked the door to the little nook. He was about to walk through when Logan grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“You aren’t thinking of moving out, are you?”

Tate took the ends of Logan’s scarf in his hands and wound them around his wrists. When Logan was close enough that his windblown hair was brushing against his forehead, Tate murmured, “Not in a million years. But…”

“But?”

“There’ll be late nights, and I’d like a place close by for us if we don’t feel like driving across town. This is close to Mitchell & Madison too.” As Tate started to walk backwards, he unwound the woolen scarf, and then he tugged the ends, urging Logan to follow.

“For us, huh?”

“Yep” Tate agreed, and then he turned to make his way up the stairs. After two small flights, they reached the top and Tate stopped. “Something she forgot to mention down there…” he said as Logan walked around him, running his hand over the sliding metal door of the loft. “The builder made sure the loft was soundproofed to block out the noise below.”

Logan turned toward him and arched an eyebrow over his glasses. “Really?”

Tate took a step forward until Logan’s back met the door and nodded. “Really. When you step behind this door, you can’t hear anyone, and they can’t hear you.”

Logan chuckled, and the smile he flashed was pure sex. “Well, I definitely like the sound of that. Not that I was overly concerned. It may have been a little uncomfortable for the customers to hear the owner shouting in pleasure while I blow his…mind, but I was willing to have earplugs for sale at the bar.”

Tate raised his hand and slid the key into the lock of the old firehouse door. When he took the thick, metal handle in his hands, Logan stepped aside. Then he hauled it open and assured him with a wink, “No earplugs will be necessary. Feel free to blow the owner any time you like.”

Logan loved it. The space was absolutely perfect for Tate’s ideas for the bar. Between the business area downstairs and the loft above, he was impressed.

They said their goodbyes to the realtor, and Tate told her that he would be in contact. But Logan wondered where his mind was at in the process.

“Well?” Tate asked. “What do you think?”

Logan slipped his hands into his coat pockets and walked over to where Tate was standing on the pavement outside the bar. Stopping in front of him, Logan smiled and looked at the locked double doors, which angled out to the street, and then back to him.

“I think it’s great.”

“You’re being serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. It’s a great location, and the building is in immaculate condition as far as I can tell. You’ll need to hire an inspector for all the nitty-gritty, but the interior, like you said, is already remodeled. And the price—for this area? The price is insane.”

Tate nodded eagerly like a little boy as he glanced back to the door and practically bounced on his toes. “I’m so happy you like it.”

“I don’t like it,” Logan said. “I love it. I think it’s absolutely perfect.”

As Tate faced him, Logan stepped forward to kiss him and saw a white fleck of snow catch on Tate’s eyelashes. He raised his gaze above them and watched as the first snow of the season fell down around them. Then he closed his eyes, letting the flurries hit his cheeks. When Tate’s fingers slid into his hair and then pulled his face in close, Logan opened his eyes and saw snowflakes landing on those dark-brown curls he loved.

As the smile on Tate’s face lit his warm eyes, Logan pressed their lips together and felt his heart pound—never could he have dreamed this for himself. Never could he have imagined Tate. But as he stood there in the snow, he realized that this man’s future—his dream—had started to morph into his own.

Chapter Thirty-One

Logan sat in the waiting room of University Hospital, tapping his foot impatiently.

Of course it had to happen today. Of course.