“Wow,”I said, once we got to the restaurant.
Logan had driven us up into the Adelaide Hills to a winery that also ran a restaurant, and it was easy to see why it was in demand. The place was expansive inside, done in a series of rustic wooden textures, but it was the view that was commanding. A sea of fairy lights spread out before us, indicating the city beyond. We were seated and then given menus.
“This place is… fancy.” I glanced down at my menu, dazzled by choices that didn’t include a bloody Happy Meal for a change. “I’m not sure what to choose.”
“Then let me.”
I glanced up to see Logan watching me with that intent stare of his. Sometimes it felt like he’d start staring and never stop.
“You want to be that guy that orders for his girl?” I said with a snort.
“I want to be that alpha that provides for his mate,” he corrected in a silky tone. “You’re not an omega.” I stiffened slightly at that, but he charged on, leaning forward as he set his menu down. “You don’t instinctively want to give way to me, but…” His eyes slid down the plunging neckline of my dress before dragging them back up. “That doesn’t mean you don’t want your mates to take control sometimes. In the ways you allow, that we negotiate for.”
I just stared at him, aware my mouth was falling open before I snapped it shut.
“You’ve been talking to your brothers.”
“Of course, I have,” he said in a mildly chiding tone. “They have a head start on me. They spend every day with you, watching you move around the house or at work, sharing your life with you.”
I would’ve thought that impossibly boring, but the way he described it? It was like it was the most amazing thing ever. He shook his head then and went back to consulting the menu.
“I’ve also been doing pack therapy with the psychologists at Crowe Corp.”
“Therapy?”
I didn’t want to shame anyone for seeking psychological help. It was always hard, hard work and people did it to try and improve their relationships with each other but…
“The five of us signed up for it,” he said a little stiffly. “They didn’t tell you?” I shook my head. “We’ve got some shit we need to get past and… I’m the cause of a lot of it, so it makes sense that I go. Blake Taylor suggested it to me one day after a session. He could see I was fucking miserable so…” He shrugged then. “I think it’s working well. Early days obviously, but—”
His words cut off as I reached across the table and took his hand. Logan just stared at it. Then, slowly, his thumb brushed across my knuckles before he squeezed my hand tight.
“Are you ready to order?” the waitress asked, seeming to appear from nowhere.
“Are we?” Logan asked me.
“Yes.” I sat back, feeling the ghost of his warmth on my fingers. “What are we having, Logan?”
He couldn’ttailor a menu to me, because he didn’t know what I liked or disliked yet, so instead he used that weakness as a strength. He ordered an entree sized meal of almost everything on the menu, creating this vast tapestry of tastes for us to explore. Plate after plate covered the table until I was left there, fork hovering in hand, not sure what to try next.
“Try this,” Logan said, breaking my indecision as he stabbed his fork into a lush chunk of herbed lamb and holding it out for me to take.
I went to grab the fork, but he jerked it back, forcing me to reach over the table and take it from his utensil with my mouth. I let out a little groan, the aromatics and the sharp tang of garlic, rosemary and thyme bursting on my tongue, and that set the tone for the night. We plucked morsels from each plate, offering them to each other, getting a sense of what we each enjoyed and discovering what we didn’t until we were so full neither of us could fit in another bite.
“I had dessert planned and everything,” he said with a huff, then watched me stroke my swollen belly with an indulgent smile.
“I’m gonna need a raincheck,” I said. “This food baby’s gonna pop if I eat anything else.”
“Well, that brings us to the next part of the night.”
He wandered over and paid for the meal, leaving me to watch him quizzically, but he didn’t elaborate in the restaurant nor in the car on the drive back to town. He didn’t even explain when we pulled up out the front of a big house in a very nice suburb, the windows dark.
“Logan…?”
He opened the door of the car and pulled me out after him, drawing me up to a small front gate and opening it, then up the front path.
“Logan, who’s bloody house is…?”
He produced a bunch of keys and then shot me a sidelong look before unlocking the front door. We walked into a cavernous front foyer, a set of stairs right before us. Our feet reverberated on the polished wooden floorboards as he shut the door behind us.