My Vegas Groom (The Greene Family #3) - Piper Rayne Page 0,15

him before?” Chip asks. I give him a scathing look and he holds up a question card. “One of our listeners wants to know.”

Truth, Nikki. Tell as much as you can.

“No. As most of you know, my best friend, Molly, is a fanatic about MMA fighting, so when we booked our girls’ weekend away, she bought front row tickets to the fight. One thing led to another, and by morning, I was married. That’s the truth, Sunrise Bayers, and that’s about all I’m willing to let you in on right now.”

Chip holds up a stack of paper. “We have a few more questions.”

“Are they asking about my marriage?”

“Someone wants to know if you’re registered somewhere?”

I laugh. “Oh, we’re perfectly fine. Please do not buy us anything.”

“Another one wants to know where you’re going to live?” Chip keeps asking questions even with me slicing my finger along my throat.

“What do you mean?”

He raises his hands. Then it dawns on me that I have no idea where we’re going to live. Surely Logan doesn’t think we’re going to live together.

Matty sends in a call and Chip answers it. Damn him.

“Looks like I get to spread the word for once here,” Chip says. “We have a caller who just reported that Logan Stone has signed a lease for the old Linville house on the bay.”

I’m silent because the old Linville house is gorgeous. It needs some rehab, but the wraparound porch that looks out over the bay is its best feature. It’s usually rented out for tourist season well in advance, so I have no idea how Logan swindled the deal.

“My guess is you’re moving into the Linville house now, Nikki. Movin’ on up,” Chip says with a laugh.

I’d like Chip to go back to his grumpy self who doesn’t add a ton to my segment.

“Details to be reported another time. In other news…” I begin the next segment because I’m over talking about myself at this point.

When Chip and I end our segment, I catch sight of Logan in the booth with Matty. What the hell?

“And that’s all for today, Sunrise Bayers. See you tomorrow.” I click the “off the air” button before Matty allows Logan to come in.

“Great job, guys, and your man is here to see you, Nik,” Matty says through the booth.

“I’ll be right out.”

I hang up my headphones and grab my stuff. Chip is so close behind me on the way out, I can barely get through the door without feeling his breath on my neck.

“Chip,” I say, glaring behind me.

He has a piece of paper and pen in his hand. “I want an autograph.”

By the time I reach the hallway, Logan’s walking out of the production booth with Matty as though they’re old friends, talking about the fight from the other night and how Logan doesn’t look that beat up. The bruises on his jaw are already healing. I definitely need to ask him why he does what he does at some point.

“Hey,” I say.

Logan shoves his hands into his pockets and gives me the cutest shy look ever, as though he’s embarrassed or something. A girl could get addicted to a look like that coming from such an intimidating figure.

“Hi. Hope you don’t mind,” he says, his voice lower than when he was talking to Matty.

“It’s fine. We have to go anyway, right?”

He nods.

Chip clears his throat behind me, and I step aside. “Do you mind signing something for Chip?”

Logan’s hands spring out of his pockets and he accepts the pen and paper from Chip. He signs his name then hands it back.

“Thanks,” Chip says, staring at the piece of paper as though he’s a six-year-old boy who just met his idol.

Logan smiles at him. “No problem.”

We all stand in the awkwardness for a moment before I break the silence. “Okay, well, we have to get going.”

Logan shakes Matty’s hand then Chip’s. “It was great meeting you both.”

“Stop by anytime,” Matty says and runs his hand through his sandy-blond hair.

“Yeah,” Chip adds, still looking a little starstruck.

Oh boy, we need to get out of here.

I lead us out of the radio station to find a black SUV waiting at the curb.

“The plane is ready for us,” Logan says.

I nod and slide in as though I’m used to this kind of treatment, ignoring the people’s stares.

An hour later, we’re in the air. Being on a private plane is surreal. The flight attendant isn’t some young thing with her skirt right below her ass though. She doesn’t bend