“One of the nightclub promoters started…” He stopped and shot a look at Maia. He did this a lot when he was about to say something before remembering his fifteen-year-old daughter was in the room. “Started a relationship with one of my bartenders. She found out somehow that I have a past record and thought it would be easy enough to steal the cash and that I would naturally be blamed for it.”

I felt my blood heat with fury and noticed Maia’s cheeks turn red with her own. “How did you find out it was her?”

“Luckily, the bartender she was slee—in a relationship with noticed a change in her funding situation. He got suspicious and caught her last night when he was shutting down the bar. She thought his back was turned.”

“Bitch,” Maia snapped, furious.

Logan just nodded in agreement.

I rolled my eyes. “Maia, don’t use that word.” I looked at Logan. “But she’s right. Did you get the police involved?”

Logan shook his head. “You know Braden. I think he was worried it would stir trouble for me, so he told her that she could pay him back or he could go the police. She’s paying him back.”

Maia huffed, pushing her food around her plate. “People suck.”

“Only sometimes,” he told her. “They make mistakes. Everyone does.”

Sensing she was going into broody teenager mode over the unfairness dealt toward her dad, I decided to change the subject. “Speaking of mistakes, I made one today.”

“Yeah?” She looked up from her plate.

“Hmm. I listened to that bloody awful band you like so much.”

“Uh!” She made a noise of outrage. “Which one?”

“The Charmed Umbrellas… Potatoes… Walking stick.” I shrugged, teasing her.

“The Charitable Rifle,” she huffed. “They are not bloody awful.”

I looked at Logan. “How do they get away with a name like that? It doesn’t even make sense.”

He shrugged, his lips twitching.

“Jeez, Grace, you’re showing your age.” Maia was giving me what I referred to as her “hell no” look.

I gave her my own “hell no” look back. “You did just not say that. I will have you know that twenty-eight is not that old.”

“It’s thirteen years older than me.” She grinned cheekily.

“Now you’re just being mean.”

Logan lost his battle and grinned at his food.

Before Maia could respond, the doorbell rang, interrupting us. I frowned. “I wonder who that is.”

Who that was, was a tall, leggy, curvy blonde. She was wearing skinny jeans, stilettos, and a tight-fitting sweater with a deep V-neck that showed a very good cleavage. She wore no jacket and didn’t need one, considering we were having quite a warm May. Her wide blue eyes grew round at the sight of me. “Uh…” Her brows drew together in confusion. “I’m looking for Logan.”

She was American.

My stomach plummeted.

Was she the American?

“Come in,” I found myself uttering out of ingrained politeness. I stepped aside, letting her into my flat, and her strong perfume wafted over me.

Her stilettos clacked against my wooden floors as I led her into the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway, and Logan’s lips parted in surprise.

She gave him an intimate, cheeky smile. “Some old guy downstairs said you might be here.” Her smile dropped as she took in Maia, her expression turning confused when she looked at me.

He dropped his fork on his plate and slid off his stool. “What helpful neighbors we have.”

An awkward silence fell.

“Uh… Sharon, this is my daughter, Maia, and my friend Grace. Guys, Sharon.” He walked over to her and leaned in to her to ask quietly, “What are you doing here?”

“Well” – she put her hand into her large handbag and pulled out a device – “you left your iPad at my place this afternoon, and I thought you might need it.”

“Fuck. I was looking all over the office for that. Thanks.” He took it from her.

I felt sick.

All this time, he’d been seeing the American after he said he wasn’t.

I felt… betrayed.

I knew that wasn’t fair to Logan because that wasn’t what we had, but still… I guess you can’t help how you feel.

“Dad, who is this?” Maia demanded snottily. It also happened to be the first time she’d called Logan “Dad.”

He stared back at her a little dazed. “Uh… a friend, Maia.”

“Well, we’re having dinner. She’s interrupting.”

“Maia.” His voice lowered with warning. “Don’t be rude.”

“I’m not the one being rude,” she muttered, and turned around on her stool, pushing her food around her plate with her fork.

She was glaring at that plate with a fierceness that concerned me. Logan was really going to have to be careful when it came to introducing women into her life.

“Sharon —”

“I better go,” she said, throwing me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek. “It was nice seeing you again.”

Logan walked her out, and I felt my frustration mount every time one of her heels clacked against my floorboards.

When Logan returned, Maia looked up at me. “Can I be excused?”

I stared over her shoulder at Logan, and he nodded wearily.

“Sure.” I smiled patiently at her and took her plate away.