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“Good to see you, Geraldine,” Logan murmured.

“And who is this lovely creature?” Geraldine asked, nonplussed at Logan’s awkwardness as she turned her sharp gaze to me.

Logan straightened up, his hand moving to my back as he pushed me forward like a sacrificial lamb. “This is Sloane,” he said, proudly.

“Oh-ho!” Geraldine said, eyeing me like she’d just uncovered a delightful secret. “The infamous Sloane. I’ve heard so much about you.”

I raised an eyebrow at Logan, who looked like he was about to spontaneously combust. “All good things, I hope.”

“Oh, darling,” Geraldine said with a wicked grin. “Good things are boring. Come in, come in!”

She stepped back, waving us inside with a flourish, and Logan grabbed my hand, pulling me along like his life depended on it. A few steps in, he moved me strategically in front of him, using me as some kind of human shield between himself and the eccentric older woman in front of us.

Geraldine glanced back at us as we walked, her eyes twinkling like she knew exactly what was going on.

The entryway was what you’d expect from a woman like Geraldine: massive, opulent, and dripping in luxury. But it wasn’t until we could see into the living room that I understood why Logan had been dragging his feet.

I stopped dead in my tracks. The room was filled with sculptures—most of them the same man…posing nude. But right in the center stood one that was unmistakably…Logan.

And it wasn’t just that it was him—it was him in nothing but a pair of briefs, his muscular form captured in excruciating detail. The pose was heroic, his chin tilted up as if he were surveying his kingdom, but the whole thing was so ridiculous that I couldn’t hold it in.

“Oh my gosh,” I gasped, doubling over in laughter. “Is that…is that you?”

Logan groaned, running a hand over his face. “Can we just?—”

“Isn’t it fabulous?” Geraldine interrupted, her voice dripping with smug amusement as she pointed at the sculpture with an exaggerated flourish. “It captures him perfectly. Even my Harold would have thought so,” she said, pointing to the man featured in her nude collection.

“That’s her late husband,” Logan murmured in my ear, still sounding completely mortified.

“How did you manage to make the list for her…art?” I whispered back.

The doorbell sounded, and Geraldine began to walk back to the front door. “Go in and make yourselves comfortable, darlings. I’m sure that’s the others.”

“Kill me now,” Logan said as we walked into the living room. “I’m never going to be able to live this down.”

The sound of laughter erupted from behind us, and the rest of the crew walked in. Camden was hunched over, looking like he was about to fall to the ground, Ari was clutching his stomach, and Lincoln—who I’d never seen look anything other than composed—was leaning against the entryway like he’d lost the ability to walk. Walker and Olivia were staring at everything with their jaws wide open, and the rest of the girls were giggling.

“I can’t believe it,” Camden choked out between laughs.

“Your clothes were on when we walked in that night,” Ari said, wiping a tear from his eye. “You left out some pretty big details, Rookie.”

“Shut up,” Logan grumbled, his ears turning red. “You have no idea what that night was like. It was the purple drink. I blameitcompletely.”

“It’s so nice that we can gather together like this,” Geraldine said, clapping her hands as she walked up from behind the group.

Ari suddenly put his hand over Blake’s eyes.

“What are you doing?” she squealed, trying to bat him away.

“Geraldine? Those proportions are exaggerated, right?” Ari asked, his gaze dipping to the…ginormous bulge in Logan’s briefs on the statue.

“No,” she chortled delightedly. “Everything is completely accurate.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Lincoln began pushing Monroe toward the other side of the room. “Appetizers are in the dining room, Geraldine?” he called behind him as he made sure that Monroe was faced away from the statue.

“Oh, well, I was thinking we could enjoy hors d’oeuvres and drinks in here but…” Geraldine began.

“Dining room sounds great,” Camden said, gliding Anastasia toward the archway that Lincoln and Monroe had just disappeared through.