Page 47

I walk into Logan’s apartment and I immediately know something’s up.

It’s too quiet, to the point where the only sounds are the soft buzzing of the A/C and the fridge. He said he’d be home by the time I arrived and normally when this happens, he greets me with a smothering hug and a scorching kiss that weakens my knees.

“Logan?” My voice echoes right back at me, and I detect the edge of concern in it.

This one time, I walked in to find him in the middle of a full blown episode in the living room. Later, when I got the story from him, he said that he’d been stretching while listening to an audiobook that he didn’t know should’ve had trigger warnings. And triggered he got.

But he’s not there either.

I leave my purse on the kitchen counter and toe off my sneakers, treading on socks across the apartment toward his room, my senses on high alert. I open his bedroom door slowly, in case he’s napping or something. But I peep and confirm that the bed is perfectly made, sans gorgeous man. Swinging the door wider, I wait for shower sounds but there’s also silence from the bathroom.

Right as I’m about to pull up my phone to call him, there’s an explosion.

I scream and whirl around. But it wasn’t really an explosion, it was a bunch of party poppers going off at the same time—from the hands of my friends spilling from the guest bedroom.

“Congratulations!”

Logan emerges from between them, holding a cake with sparkly candles on it. I stare, mystified because it’s not my birthday.

“What’s happening?” I ask, my jaw hanging.

Behind him, Audrey and Hope unfurl a banner and the guys help to raise it up. The answer is clear then, because the banner says Congratulations on Your New Broadcasting Job!

“Oh!” I cover my mouth with my hands. “You guys—you didn’t have to.”

“But we wanted to.” Lucky winks at me.

Miguel nods. “It’s a big milestone.”

“We’re proud of you, princess,” says Cade.

“For the record,” Logan says with a deadpanned expression. “I told them to say that.”

Chuckling, I circle around the cake and rise on my tiptoes to peck his cheek. But at the last second he turns his head and our lips meet instead. Sneaky man.

“Thank you. And I know you’re proud of me too, you’ve only told me—oh, a trillion times.”

He motions at the cake that literally has I’m proud of you spelled out in icing over it. I can’t help but cackling like a hyena at that.

It’s kind of bittersweet to leave my social media role behind. I won’t get to ask fun, silly questions to the guys, or film thirst traps for the internet girlies. But I still get to travel with the team and interview them with more meaningful questions. I get to support the history and records team with new developments, and moreover, I get to show my face on camera. One day I’ll be an anchorwoman for a sports channel and this is the start of my new dream.

And I get to do it right next to my dream man. How did I get so lucky?

It’s hard to think that a year ago I was being cheated on by the guy I thought I wanted to be with, and that I’ve been able to leave that heartache well behind. I couldn’t have done that without my friends or Logan.

We hang out in his living room, eating cake because it’s the offseason and the guys are allowed to deviate from their strict diets. The one who seems happiest about this is Miguel, but instead of finishing his ginormous slice, he packs most of it away for his daughter like the teddy bear dad that he is.

Logan is the first one to grow impatient, and at first I don’t get why he’s fidgeting so much until I see him jerk his head at Lucky.

The Boricua’s eyes light up with understanding. He claps his hands loud and reaches for his crutches by the couch. “Well, I think it’s about time to head out.”

“What? But it’s only like six.” Cade’s eyebrows rise.

“Dude.” Lucky looks at Logan and I, then back.

“Ohh. Right.” Cade turns to Hope. “Yeah, we should go too. Didn’t we say we’re having pizza for dinner?”

Hope appears confused. “Did we?”

“Yep, we did. We decided on the way here.”

Of his own volition, Miguel says, “Marty said she wanted some help with her homework after softball practice.”

“What kind of help?” Audrey asks as she also gets up from the carpet. “Because if it’s math, you’re not the right guy for the job.”

“After you, sugar,” Lucky says, adopting Cade’s nickname for Audrey and hopping aside for her to pass first.

I watch, amused that the one who said she wanted nothing to do with men, ended up picking one of those guys, when I wouldn’t have imagined that he would be the right fit for her.

After farewells—more enthusiastic from me than from Logan—I close the apartment door and turn. My boyfriend’s not behind me but still sitting on the carpet in the living room, his back resting against the foot of the couch, head tipped back on the seat. He raises a hand and motions at me to join him.

Now that we’re alone, I decide to stop acting demure altogether.

I skip over and instead of sitting beside him, I swing a leg and lower myself to his lap. My legs are curled around his and I lace my hands behind his neck. “Hola.”

Logan’s eyebrows rise, but his hands get with the program right away. He grabs my butt and pushes it—me—closer. “Hey,” he returns in that deep voice of his that drives me wild.

“What’s the plan for the rest of the evening then? I eat frost off you?” I ask, smiling sweetly.

He snorts, a smirk curving his delectable lips. “I have something else in mind before that.”

“I’m all ears and nerve endings.”

This makes the smirk transform into a full grin. His hands leave my butt to rise toward my back, and I’m only mildly disappointed that he didn’t sneak them under my sweater.

“I have something for you,” Logan murmurs. Rather than the saucy addition I expect, instead he presents one of his hands.

I stare at it.

More accurately, at the thing laying on it.

I look into Logan’s eyes, deep and bright and full of all the love that also resides in mine. “I don’t have a grand speech because I didn’t want to recruit the guys for it this time.”

“Understandable.” I nod seriously. “It’s a very private moment.”

“Exactly. And also, I don’t have fully altruistic reasons.”

“Is that so?” I tilt my head.

“The simple fact is that I want you all for myself. I’m willing to share you with your mom and our friends, but I want the lion’s share for myself. And I want the whole world to know that.”

“Oh, so this is because my finger is going to be visible on camera?” I ask with a hum.

“That’s right.” His pretty face sours. “I need to be hired full time to beat guys off you.”

I lean down and press my lips on his for a quick kiss. When I pull away, I don’t go too far at all. “You do understands that this means I’ll also put a ring on your finger and claim you in front of the whole world, right?”

“It’s a fair trade,” he whispers against my lips. “And I know we’ve only been dating for six months but?—”

“It’s right.”

He repeats those two words as well. “And you can keep your last name too, I like it better than mine.”

“Fine by me.” I twirl strands of hair from his nape. “When are you thinking?”

“Whenever you want. We can take our time planning a grand affair, or have a smaller but quicker wedding.”

“Smaller and quicker.” I nod.

He bites his smile. “Destination wedding or here?”

“Here. We save the destination for the honey moon.”

“Deal.” Logan shakes his head. “Wait, is this a yes?”

I smack his shoulder. “It’s a heck yes, Logan. Would I be making plans otherwise?”

He reaches forward and captures my mouth in a searing kiss, pressing me against him by the small of my back, and making me squeal with delight. Without breaking apart, he feels around until he finds my left hand and slowly, still devouring my mouth, he slides the engagement ring on my finger.

The silver band with a soft purple rock fits perfectly, and I laugh into his mouth when I remember that he was planning for this precise design since we started dating.

That’s what I get for dating a guy who lives in his brain, and now it’s my life mission to get him out of it and teach him how to smell the roses. Or the lavender, now that he has tattooed it on his belly.

I slide my hands under his flannel shirt to feel precisely that, to remind myself with the heat of his skin that this is not a dream. Logan is real and what we have is the real deal, that he might’ve saved my life once but I’m the one who made the real wild catch.

THE END

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Thank you for reading Wild Catch !