Page 66 of Consuming Logan

She and Logan should have eloped.

Ava walked into the Blessed Life’s sanctuary, the urge to squat low to avoid friendly fire seizing her muscles. Maribelle and Robert were engaged in a heated battle of Married with Children: Mortal Combat Edition. Raised voices created an acoustic echo that mimicked a full orchestra. Strange, she’d arrived before Logan. Afraid she’d be late Ava had traversed the intercostal waterway in lunchtime traffic skirting the speed limit. With the project coming to an end, Ash spent more days at the other area hospitals laying the groundwork for future projects. He, and his coffee contributions, would be missed in the office.

“I’m your wife. He’s my son. Logan has no need for your other offspring,” Maribelle insisted to an unmoved Robert Lee.

Logan’s father raised his chin, stubborn and defiant. “They’re all my sons. Darwin knows the truth. So should Logan.”

Ava stared at the scowling faces gathered around the altar. Temptation to pull a Logan and toss everyone out nearly overwhelmed logical thought. Marianne and Granny Lou occupied the front pew, knitting needles in hand, a half-knitted pink blanket across their laps. Her mother sat on the bench in front of the church’s ancient pipe organ, fingers tapping a silent tune on the cords. Scanning the room, Ava stilled when she spotted the O’Connor brothers.

Whoa. She winced. How would her future father-in-law explain their presence?

Robert Lee and Logan needed to have that father son talk soon. Maximus, in all his brooding quietness, saluted her from the back wall his phone at his ear. Tyson watched her approach from the pulpit, his eyes missing nothing. Thank goodness Paster Stewart spent Tuesdays out of the office. The first lady had purchased the acrylic podium for his seventieth birthday. He polished it himself and didn’t trust a soul not to scratch his gift.

“You need to eat more, lass.” he ordered, his brogue thicker than with the general public.

Ava refused to fidget. “Trust me, I’m trying,” she smiled.

“Have you tried small meals more frequently. Or fresh ginger? If your symptoms are worse in the mornings, I read taking your prenatal at bedtime can help.”

Perplexed, Ava stared open mouthed. Who was this wonderful creature? “Why do you know so much about pregnancy?”

Tyson’s lips slit into a dazzling grin. Of course, his roguishly handsome features took on Adonis qualities with that rare smile.

“Logan’s the first of us to have children, lass.” His grin turned sheepish. “Max downloaded a ton of books for us to read up. You know, because we’ll be uncles.”

Ava crossed her arms over her chest. Careful not to compress her breasts. In addition to increasing a full cup size, the sensitivity bordered on painful. “You are a good brother, Tyson.”

He nodded. “I’ve had a lot of years to prepare. Max and I have always known about Logan and Darwin. The time has come for us to unite as one family.”

How could Logan have missed that these two men shared the same blood in his veins? Her man loved hard, but he guarded his territory. Ava hoped Logan could open his heart and mind to Tyson and Maximus. By the looks of it, none of the brothers could be easily dissuaded.

Drew Walters came alongside her. “How’s my grand babies?”

“Daddy,” Ava chided, hugging the first man to role model how a woman should be treasured in a relationship. “What am I? Chopped chicken patties.”

He wrapped her in his embrace. “I thought that was liver?”

Ava gagged. “Don’t say it. Honest,” she said rubbing her protruding belly. “If you mention the word, I smell it. I’m dropping to my knees in a one-way love affair with the trashcan for the next hour.”

Jared worried that Ava’s morning sickness persisted. More than seven months pregnant, the elevated blood pressure and the ten-pound weight gain had earned her weekly visits. Luckily, she didn’t have pre-eclampsia, a form of pregnancy-associated high blood pressure. But the amniotic fluid surrounding the babies was lower than the healthcare team expected for gestation. Oligohydramnios though more common with twins, still had Ava worried that the babies were too small, or that a vaginal delivery would stress them thus mandating a cesarean delivery.

“My lips are sealed,” her dad smiled. “But what are you going to do about the emotional cripple and the blue blood beefing at the altar?”

“Nothing,” came Logan’s baritone. “I’ll handle this.” Ava gasped when Logan pulled her up against his body. Threading his fingers into her hair, he tilted her head back and claimed her mouth. Tingles waltzed down her lady parts and her breasts began to ache. Cheers and cat calls rang out. Ava pushed at Logan’s chest, face flaming.

Logan’s green eyes gleamed in delight. “I’m having sex with a pregnant woman tonight,” he whispered.

Though she thought it impossible, more heat infused her face. But then reality intruded.

“I’m your wife. You should walk me down the aisle,” Maribelle insisted, to an unmoved Robert Lee.

Logan’s father raised his chin, stubborn and defiant. “You’ve walked over me for years. You can march your well-worn steel-toed boots down the damn aisle.”

For the first time since meeting Maribelle, the woman’s mask of superiority slipped. Robert Lee’s rejection had to hurt.

“No, Darwin can’t,” Ava insisted, a false smile in place. “When he arrives, he has to escort his wife,” emphasis on the matrimonial bond, “down the aisle.”

Where were the two lovebirds anyway? Logan took Ava in his arms, placing a kiss to the top of her head. “Where were you?” she asked.