He chuckled. “Well, I suppose I’d better tell you about the recording studio.”
Harper’s mouth fell open. “The what?”
Logan grinned, pleased by her reaction. That day when he’d read the note Mason had passed him everything had become crystal clear.
If you want her to stay, give her everything she’s dreamed of.
Logan already had the idea halfway formed. The remnants of a late night conversation while curled up in bed, her head resting on his shoulder. She’d mused about her own studio.
And then she’d laughed the idea off as being too out of reach. But as she’d been talking the idea sparked. The note had set it aflame.
What was the use of owning a construction company if he couldn’t help her dreams come to life? He’d worked night and day to turn her dreams into reality, pulling in favors and hoping his gamble would pay off.
“What would you think if I told you I’d started building you your own recording studio?”
Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “Are you serious?”
“Yep. I only started it a few weeks ago, so it’s not finished yet. I wanted to talk to you about the sound-proofing and one of those glass booths?—”
She squealed and then kissed him soundly, before pulling away to wiggle her legs excitedly. He laughed, pleased at her reaction.
He’d wanted to show her that he was all in. That he meant what he said when he wanted her to stay. It wasn’t lost on Logan that it was Harper who had upended her whole life, moving across the country to be here. He wanted to give her something, to show her that it was worth the gamble.
That he was worth the gamble.
Harper squealed again, with a huge grin plastered on her face, threw her arms around Logan and planted a kiss on his lips.
“Are you for real?” she asked, pulling back to meet his eyes.
He nodded.
“Oh my god! I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Believe it, princess. You’re everything to me. I’d give you the shirt off my back if you asked.”
“You’re not wearing a shirt.” She smirked, sliding her hand over his bare chest. Her blanket slipped from her shoulder, and she shivered.
“Cold?”
She nodded.
Logan stood, stuffing his feet into his boots and grabbing the bottle of champagne he’d stashed in the wine cooler.
She laughed. “Logan! What are you doing?”
Apart from the boots, he was completely naked.
“Taking you to bed.” He passed her the wine to hold and scooped her into his arms to carry her—wrapped in her cozy blanket cocoon—back to his house.
No, not his house. Their home.
She laughed as he carried her through the trees.
“Welcome home, princess.”
Epilogue
Harper
