Tate placed his hands on the edge of the wood and moved in close so they were practically nose to nose. The one-time conversation from long ago was now taking the turn Logan had wished for that very night.

“No, you haven’t. I’m just trying to decide how best to shut your inappropriate mouth.”

“Well,” Logan said, his lips twitching at the heat swirling in Tate’s eyes. “Alcohol is certainly one way. Food, which I can smell somewhere in here, is another. But…I’m not very hungry for food, and I know a much more pleasurable way to fill my mouth.”

As Tate angled his head and teased his lips over Logan’s top one, he had a hard time staying where he was. Hard being the operative fucking word. The guy sure was testing his self-restraint.

“Do you hit on everyone you meet?” Tate asked and then—fuck yes—nipped his bottom lip.

“Not anymore.”

“But you used to?”

“A long time ago. A whole other life ago.”

Tate smiled against his mouth and straightened, their lips parting. “So that’s why I’ve never seen you around here before.”

Logan lowered himself back to his seat and shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “Could be, or maybe it’s because you’re new here.”

“You’re right, I am new. But then again, so are you.”

“Well, I used to frequent this one place. You may have heard of it—After Hours.”

Tate’s mouth curved up as he leaned a hip against the bar. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it. You say you used to, huh? What happened?”

Logan raised a hand to his chin and stroked it as he answered, “I got involved with one of the bartenders.”

“Oh,” Tate said with a false grimace and shook his head. “That happens, I suppose. Probably why it’s not allowed here.”

“Is that right?” Logan asked, looking around. “And where is here, exactly?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Tate asked. “The owner wanted a catchy name. One that was…specific to him.”

“He did, did he?”

“Yeah, but it’s a secret right now because he was only given the keys this morning.”

A massive smile stretched across Logan’s mouth at Tate’s excitement as he pulled a set of keys from his pocket and put them between them on the counter.

“I can keep a secret.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I should tell anyone yet who isn’t totally committed to being involved.”

Logan felt his breath catch in his throat as he waited for Tate to continue, hoping he was asking him what he thought he was. Ever since Tate had mentioned his idea for this, the dream he’d always wanted since he was old enough to know he had one—Logan had wanted to be a part of it. He just didn’t know how much until right that second.

“I mean…” Tate started again. “He wouldn’t have to be hands-on to be invested, and I don’t want—”

Logan cocked his head to the side and asked quietly, “What don’t you want?”

Tate reached for the keys and ran his fingers over them, making Logan think he was more nervous than he was letting on.

Logan placed his hands over the top of his, stilling them, and asked again, “What don’t you want?”

“I don’t want him to think he has to say yes.”

Logan stared at the man across from him, the one who’d stolen his heart months ago, and knew that this was their way—their unique way to settle down.

“Ask me,” Logan encouraged.

Tate chewed on his bottom lip then locked eyes with him, direct as always. “Do you want to be a part of this…with me?”

“As in?” Logan asked. He wanted to make sure he wasn’t misunderstanding what Tate was asking.

“As in be partners with me.”

Logan was about to speak when Tate rushed on.

“I don’t want money or anything like that. I already have the loan and down payment all in place. I just want you to do this with me. Be a part of it with me.”

Logan rested his elbows on the bar and steepled his hands in front of his mouth, eyeing Tate carefully before he said, “I don’t know, Tate. It all depends…”

“On?”

“Well, I’m not very good at being silent, and I definitely don’t want to be a hands-off kind of partner with you. And there’s one other thing.”

Logan reached for his tie and pulled it from his vest. He ran his finger down the back of it before tugging him forward.

“I still don’t know the name of our place.”

Tate gave him a wicked smirk as he put his lips to the corner of his and flicked his tongue over it, whispering, “The Popped Cherry.”

“The Popped Cherry?” Logan repeated, loving the witty reminder of Tate’s first time with him. “And you think I’m fucking dirty,” he said right before he yanked Tate close to taste his tempting tongue.

God, he’d been nervous tonight when the driver had shown up and requested he go with him. He hadn’t known what Tate was up to. All he had known was that, if he wanted him somewhere special, he was going to be there. In fact, Logan wanted him to be a part of every decision he made from here on out, and when he pulled his lips away, he also knew he needed to tell him that. Before he could open his mouth, though, Tate spoke.

“I love you,” he said, and as Logan looked at him, he reached for his hands. “I had no idea when you first sat down across from me that night—no idea what I’d been missing,” Tate whispered. “It was you.”

Logan’s eyes started to fill with tears, and he blinked, trying to get them to stop as Tate continued to look at him as if he were his whole entire world—he hoped that was the case anyway, because it was never more apparent than in that moment that Tate was his.

“What are you thinking?” Tate asked. “Tell me.”

Logan stood from the stool and placed his lips to the corner of his mouth. “Hmm, well. What I was thinking…just might terrify you.”

Tate stilled against him, and then his body shuddered on a ragged breath as he stroked his fingers down his jawline.

Logan wound his arms around his neck and held on as Tate kissed a path along his cheek to his ear, where he nuzzled in against his neck. His curls brushed against the side of Logan’s face as he repeated the words he had said back when this had all begun.

“Then, Logan, terrify me.”

And with those four words, Logan knew he had found home.

The Popped Cherry

2 oz. vodka

1 oz. chocolate liqueur

Float the grenadine on top

If you want it creamy (which we know you do) add a little Baileys.

Note: We have to give a big shout out to Stacy Wilkerson for helping us come up with this deliciously dirty concocktion.

Special Thanks

When I first sat down to write the story Try, I wondered if my readers would take a chance and follow me in this new direction. I was nervous but excited to jump into a genre I loved to read myself. So off I went into the great unknown—and I took you all with me!

Since then, I haven’t looked back!

Logan and Tate's journey is one I have thoroughly enjoyed writing. These two men have been nothing but a blast. From Logan’s lack of a filter to Tate’s honest and forthright nature, helping these two find each other has been one of the highlights of my writing career.

Having said all of this, it never could’ve happened without the amazing team I’ve had working alongside me. Not only are they some of the greatest women I know, I am happy to call them all friends.

Candace ~ I literally could not have written this series without you. It really is as simple as that, but I can’t possibly leave it there. From the very beginning to the last word on Trust’s final page, you’ve been with me and the guys every step of the way. You kept Logan’s mouth in line when need be and Tate’s penchant for being a stubborn ass right on point. Your critiques are brutal, your feedback invaluable, but most of all, your friendship is essential. Don’t ever change.