Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“No. God no,” he cut me off. “I’m just…work is going to be insane tonight. And I didn’t sleep well last night.” He raked his fingers through his hair.
“Okay,” I said, reaching for his hand and squeezing it again. “Well, tonight, lets focus on getting you much-needed rest. I can stay at my place—”
“No,” he said. “I sleep better with you in my bed.”
Heat caressed my skin at the declaration, but I shook my head. “We rarely sleep when we’re in your bed.”
He smirked, some of that frazzled panic leaving his eyes. “Well, you’re worth losing sleep over.”
I rolled my eyes. “Not going to happen.”
The waitress brought over a fresh mug of coffee and sat it before him. He didn’t move to touch it.
“So, I have something to ask you,” he said, eyes on that fresh mug.
Nerves tightened and coiled in my stomach. The earlier debate with Quinn and now this?
“Yes, this is my natural hair color,” I said, trying like hell to lighten the tension I couldn’t even place between us.
Logan chuckled, the sound easing some of the panic in my blood.
“I knew that already,” he said, stroking the back of my hand. “I got tickets to the Reaper game for my mother.”
“Oh, that is super sweet of you. I bet she’ll love to see where you work and the team you work for.”
“Would you like to come too?”
I furrowed my brow. “That’s what you wanted to ask me? If I wanted to go to a hockey game?” God, with the way he acted, I was terrified he was about to propose or ask for a break or something. Relief pooled in my chest, the breath in my lungs easing.
“Yeah,” he said, shrugging.
“Thanks for the offer, but you know I don’t care for hockey. Or sports in general.” And now he knew exactly why. Knew the reasoning behind the stigma I had about celebrity athletes. Of course, I knew not all of them were like Greg. Knew some of them were good and decent—like Logan’s friend Connell. But that didn’t mean I wanted to dive head-first into the franchise.
He slipped his hands from mine, leaning back in his chair. The motion felt deliberate, and a pang hit my chest as I eyed him.
“Right,” he said. “I figured.” He laughed, the sound forced.
“That’s okay, right?” I asked, suddenly wondering if I’d answered some important question wrong. I gasped, wanting to facepalm myself. “I’m such a jerk,” I said. “I didn’t mean to say no to spending time with your mom. Could I take her to dinner before the game? I’d love to spend more time with her.”
He shrugged again before taking a sip of his coffee.
“It’s not a big deal,” he said, setting his mug down. “Just thought you might want to experience a game.”
I tilted my head at him. “You know why I don’t want to.”
He cleared his throat, leaning his elbows on the table, his knee bouncing beneath. “Not every professional sport or those who play for it are like your ex.”
I swallowed hard. “True,” I said, eyes narrowing. “Nothing against your friends, Logan,” I said. “But I’m not ready to dive into that world again. To see the people worshiping the players for a sport. Putting them on a pedestal and having no clue who the real person is underneath. The power garnered from such devotion. It’s all…convoluted for me.”
Logan took another drink of his coffee, something churning behind those dark eyes.
I waited, silent, patient, my heart pounding nervously in my chest. Was this important to him? All he had to do was tell me that, and I’d make an effort. But why would it be important? Simply because he worked with the team? Because he had a friend on the ice?
Was I an asshole for not wanting to go?
Maybe I should swallow the ice crystalizing over my heart at the thought of being surrounded by screaming fans of the local team. Maybe I should set fire to the past and start fresh. I’m sure with Logan’s help, I could do anything. Right?
Before I could come to any conclusion, Logan placed a mask of calm over his face. “I get it,” he said, his voice softer. “Maybe another time.”
I continued to watch him from behind my coffee, having a hard time chatting about small talk when something seemed to gnaw at him. And I worried it was my admission making him behave differently around me. Maybe that is why he pushed the game on me—did he think it would help me heal? That would be so like Logan, wanting to do whatever it took to help me move past it. But wasn’t telling him enough of a first step?
“Come on,” he said, rising from the table after we’d finished our drinks. “I’ll walk you back to work.”
He held my hand the entire way, but there was a silence between us I couldn’t stand, and the kiss he gave me before he left felt strained.