Page 8 of Tell Me Lies

And why wouldn’t she be adorable? Her father is Logan freaking Sterns. I’ve seen him in commercials on TV and on his very large picture in sporting stores, but I assumed he wasn’t as flawless in person.

Yeah, I was wrong about that. If anything, he’s even better-looking in person. With his light-brown hair that seems to fall perfectly on his head, his bright blue eyes that match his daughter’s, and … oh, his dimple? Because, of course, Logan Sterns has a dimple. He’s striking. But that doesn’t change this arrangement one bit because when it comes to men, I’m untouchable. I was engaged once. And at the darkest time of my life, the person who was supposed to hold me together—or at the very least, hold me through it—couldn’t do it. Instead, he left me.

“Helllllo, did you hear me?” Amelia says, her small hand touching mine.

Snapping my focus back to her, I shake my head. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked you what your favorite animal is. ’Cept you can’t say Highland cow ’cause that’s mine.”

“I said turtle,” Walker mutters. “I froze up. She looked at me with those big blue eyes.”

Poppy walks back into the room, catching what Walker said before sitting down. “Awww, babe. See? You’re going to be the best dad to this b—” She stops, putting a hand over her mouth, her eyes growing huge. “You’re good with kids, is all.”

“Oh, hell yes!” Logan cheers, closely following Poppy. “James is fixin’ to join the dad squad. Don’t be trying to steal my dad jokes though.”

“Dude, your jokes aren’t even funny,” Walker says, keeping his tone low.

“Daddy! Put a quarter in my jar!Hellis a verrrrrrry bad word,” Amelia scolds her father.

“Way to go, big mouth,” Walker teases Poppy, but his lips are turned up. “Sterns is not good at keeping secrets.”

“Says who?” Logan frowns.

“Um … every dude on our team who has ever done anything stupid,” Walker says matter-of-factly.

Logan’s expression relaxes as he collapses on the couch, pulling his daughter with him as she giggles and flails. “Well, that’s different. That is funny. This? This isn’t my business to tell.” He almost pouts, I swear. “I’m offended you think I’d tell.”

“You’re pregnant!” I say, somewhere between a squeal and a yell. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Poppy leans back, sighing. “Because I’m afraid it’s too good to be true—that’s all.” She glances nervously at Walker. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up. And the fewer people who know now, the fewer people who will have to awkwardly comfort me if something happens.”

I know Poppy had a miscarriage a while back. It must be close to eight months ago now, and even though she tried to put on a brave face when it happened, it was hard on her. Walker too.

Reaching for her hand, I give it a squeeze. “This baby is going to be fine. I can feel it,” I whisper, giving her a sincere smile. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

“Thanks,” she says tenderly, her eyes growing misty. “We really, really want this.”

The sadness in the room is quickly swallowed up by Amelia when she yells at her dad. “Daddy! Put me down!” she whines. “I want to show—” She pauses, looking at me. “What is your name?”

I smile an honest, genuine smile. “Maci.”

“Right. Maci. I need to show her my room,” she says, nodding her head before patting her dad’s arms around her. “Let go right now, Daaaady!”

Finally, he releases her. “All right. Show her your room, but after that, Miss Maci and I need to talk.” The way he drawls the words is a sure sign he’s from the South, even though he’s been in Maine for a few years.

“Come on, Miss Maci!” She grins, grabbing my hand in an attempt to pull me to my feet.

Standing up, I look nervously at Logan once Amelia has rushed toward what must be her room. “Do you mind if she shows me her room?” I chew my bottom lip anxiously. “I know we just met and all. I’m a stranger.”

“Should I mind?” he says in a serious tone to match his eyes, which are now slightly narrowed. “You planning to kidnap her? Or cut all of the heads off of her stuffed animals? Is that what you do?”

“What?” I blurt out. “No. No. I would never.”

“Logan, stop before I punch you in the nuts,” Poppy warns. “Ignore him, Mace. He is hardly ever serious. I think his three-year-old might be more of a grown-up than him.”

“She’s kidding. I’m very mature,” Logan drawls. “Go ahead. Just don’t steal my kid.”

I look at him, unsure if he’s kidding or not, eventually, I turn away from him and walk to where Amelia just ran off to.

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