Chapter 15
Savannah
First of all, I might be a little bit in love with the LA Thunder rugby team.
I wasn’t sure what to expect, with only Moxie and Logan as my baselines, but overall they’re a bunch of loveable goofballs who are way too impressed by basic tamales.
They’ve been incredibly friendly and welcoming since Mr. Evanson—Cole—sent them inside after their practice to meet me and grab a meal, and I’ve never seen so many beautiful muscles in one place before.
Nor have I ever been flirted with so mercilessly. I could definitely get used to this.
Second of all, there’s a chance, however small, I might also be a little bit in love with Logan Callahan.
No, love is too strong a word, and he would run for the hills if he caught wind of me thinking it.
But on Friday I started to like Logan, on Saturday I spent too much time admiring how soft he is with my cat, and on Sunday I almost mauled him with a kiss when he let me into his apartment and told me I had free rein over his kitchen whenever I wanted.
His kitchen, which is as big and beautiful as he is.
And tonight, as I stand behind a serving table in the Thunder’s break room, all I can think about is how my feelings have shifted from mild interest to wondering what he’s thinking every time I look at him.
Imagining myself wrapped up in his arms because I just know he gives the best hugs.
Anyone can see that by simply looking at him, and I’ve done plenty of that tonight because he makes it impossible not to be aware of him at all times.
While the team was out practicing, Logan stood in the facility kitchen doorway and watched me make a few dozen chicken tamales, which was frankly so distracting on its own that I almost forgot to add the filling to half of them. I didn’t even care.
Then there was the talking. Making little comments and questions about what I was doing, and telling me stories about moving to Australia when he was four and feeling like he was entirely out of place until he discovered rugby when he was seven.
I swear, if the team didn’t interrupt when they did, I was going to lose my mind trying to resist this man who before now has generally kept his actual personality to himself like a closely guarded secret.
Something changed at that event on Friday.
Whatever it was, it’s been pulling an invisible string between Logan and me tighter and tighter until it feels like it’s either going to snap and leave us flat on the floor, or we won’t be able to fight it any longer.
Regardless, it sounds painful in the end.
If I’m bound for chaos one way or another, at least tonight’s dinner went smoothly, and I can breathe now that it’s over.
Most of the players have finished their food and headed out, leaving the break room comparatively calm and quiet after so much noise.
Cole looks content as he chats in the corner with Moxie and the trainer, Mel, which hopefully means I did well with this trial run.
The few remaining guys are talking and laughing at one of the tables, one of them eyeing the leftover tamales like he might snag another. And Logan…
I shiver when my eyes catch on Logan across the room, where he’s been standing against the wall all night.
He ignored his teammates, which doesn’t surprise me, but it’s weird that he hasn’t come over to my table since the team came in.
After all the attention he gave me while I was cooking, his sudden indifference feels odd.
Indifference might not be the right word. There were a few times while I was chatting with the Thunder that I looked up to find him scowling.
Almost like he didn’t like the way I was laughing with his teammates.
Ha! As if Logan would be jealous over me. That’s about as ridiculous as my cat being in love with a full-grown man.
My stomach does a little swivel as I wipe up a bit of oil with a rag to give myself a reason to look away from Logan. Beef Wellington has been pretty darn happy these last few days.
“It’s Savannah, right?” The player who keeps looking at the leftover food comes up to me, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he gives me a shy smile. He’s shorter than most of the other players but still packed with muscle, like they all are.
I return his smile with one of my own. “Yep! Still hungry?”
“Oh. Uh, no. Well, yeah, but that’s not…” At the sound of snickering behind him, he turns to glare at his teammates before looking back at me and dropping his arm. “Moxie said you make stuff for people to cook at home.”
“Better not be asking her out, Tink!” one of the guys calls, “or you’ll lose the bet!”
Tink’s ears turn red as his eyes grow large. “I’m not asking you out,” he says quickly.
I lift an eyebrow, blushing despite his insistence. Or maybe because Logan just went incredibly stiff on the other side of the room. Trying to keep my attention on Tink, I smile. “Because then you’d lose a bet?”
He shrugs. “It’s a whole thing with a few of us. No dating. Money pool. Not important. Um, how much…?” He winces and looks down at the last few tamales. “What does something like that run? You making meals?”
My stomach swivels again, this time out of reluctance instead of whatever it did when I thought about Logan being jealous.
Against my will, my eyes jump to Logan yet again and find him watching me with narrowed eyes.
“Uh, it depends on what a client’s needs are,” I say, trying to be vague, since this rugby gig doesn’t pay him much.
“What about, uh…” He leans in and drops his voice to a whisper, his words full of hesitation. “Lunches for two?”
I choke on a laugh and drop my volume to match him. “Are you cheating on the bet, Tink? Also, why do they call you Tink?” I’ve heard quite a few nicknames among the Thunder, and most of them are pretty ridiculous.
I wonder what they call Logan.
“I am not cheating,” Tink says with a decent amount of force behind his whispered words.
“But I do have a new roommate, and she’s, uh, not great in the kitchen.
I don’t usually have long enough breaks from work to make anything decent, and we’re getting sick of takeout.
And charcoal,” he adds under his breath, a bit of annoyance entering his expression.
“So what would a week of lunches cost me?”
For some reason, I glance at Logan again as I straighten up. If anything, he’s gotten stiffer. “It depends,” I say again. “The simpler the meal, the cheaper it would be.”
“Right. But would it cost much more than having food delivered from restaurants? We’re already doing that.”
“Probably not?”
“It’s Tinkerbell, by the way.” His hand goes to the back of his head again as his face reddens. “My nickname. Because I’m small.”
I can’t stop my eyes from trailing over his toned body. “You’re not small.”
He chuckles, glancing behind him at the few people left in the room. “Compared to someone like The Hero, I’m tiny. My name’s Noah, but feel free to call me Tink.”
“Who’s The Hero?”
He jerks his head back, gesturing to where Logan’s standing and still watching me like he’s made of stone.
“Callahan. I mean, look at him. Dude’s a beast. And somehow still one of the fastest guys on the team,” he adds like a reluctant afterthought.
Then he leans his hands on the table and gives me a hard ‘I mean business’ look that almost makes me laugh.
He’s serious about this. “So, lunches? Don’t underestimate how much I’m willing to pay to keep Petra out of my kitchen.
Anything is better than letting her accidentally burn the building down. ”
“Right.” Suddenly I’m glad I don’t have a roommate other than a beastly cat.
“Um.” Movement distracts me, and I look up to see Logan stalking toward me with so much intensity in his expression that my thoughts stall.
“It’s, uh, it’s easiest to get on my website and fill out a questionnaire.
” I pat my pockets as if I might find a business card in them, knowing full well that I didn’t bring any because Logan convinced me no one on the team would be able to afford me.
My phone is in the kitchen, so that’s no help, and suddenly I’m blanking on the name of my website like it hasn’t been three years since I bought the domain. “Um, it’s…”
“True Fuel Kitchen,” Logan says, startling Tink with his sudden appearance, though he doesn’t seem to notice because his gray eyes are on me. “Need help getting stuff back to your place, Sav?”
Sav? He’s never called me Sav before, and heat climbs my neck beneath Logan’s unbreaking gaze. “I was actually wondering if you could take it to your apartment?”
“Whoa,” Tink says, his eyes darting between us. “Are you two—”
“No,” Logan and I say at the same time; my no sounds a lot squeakier than his definitive one. Is it such a bad thing for someone to think there might be something here?
“Logan’s letting me use his kitchen,” I explain, and I’m not sure I manage to keep my disappointment out of my voice.
Tink purses his lips. “Too bad. It would have been nice to get you out of the bet, Hero, but I guess we’ll have to keep taking your money.”
Something tells me Logan was not expecting a comment like that because his brow furrows as a growl rumbles in his chest. “’Scuse me?”
Tink might be taller than me, but Logan stands several inches above him, making him look far smaller than he did a moment ago.
His nickname makes more sense now, seeing him next to the wall of perfection that is Logan Callahan.
Tink stares up at Logan and slinks back a step before he responds.
“Uh, just messing with you, Callahan. May the last man standing win.” He scurries out of the room without another look back, and his laughing buddies follow him, leaving the break room almost empty now.
As soon as they’re gone, I whack my hand against Logan’s arm. “If you cost me a client, so help me…”
“Him?” He scoffs. “I told you, love. None of these guys can aff—”