Chapter 15
fifteen
LOGAN
“You’re late,” I say to Maddox when he finally strolls into Chasers. I push a bottle his way when he sits down. Griffin, Ryder, and Sebastian nod and greet him.
“Sorry, had to play chauffeur for the ladies so they can drink tonight. Didn’t want some random rideshare driver carting my wife around.” Maddox takes a pull of his beer and nods at Griffin and Ryder. “I told the ladies I’d pick them up when they’re done painting.”
Griffin tips his head in acknowledgement from his spot beside me. “Thanks, bro. Mira’s been looking forward to this.”
I don’t want to ask them what the girls are up to tonight, because this is the kind of bullshit conversation I have worked so hard to avoid by staying away from any kind of relationship.
But now all these assholes are paired up—outside of me and Bash—and I’m forced to hear way more about their relationships than I want.
Still, they’re my closest friends, and if I don’t ask, that makes me a prick, right? “What are they doing tonight?”
“Drinking wine and painting? I don’t really understand it, but the four of them seemed excited.”
Wait. “Four of them?”
Ryder snickers, the little shit. “Yeah, the girls and Blair.”
Blair. Fucking. Hell. Can I never escape her?
I try to play it off like I’m not affected by hearing that the woman who walked out on me after a night of epic sex, only to show up at my job less than a week later, is cozying up to my best friends’ women.
But when Griffin snorts out a laugh, I know I’ve failed.
“Dude, you look like you’re sucking on a lemon. What’s your problem?”
“Nothing. I just didn’t realize they were hanging out with her.”
Bash studies me, his eyes squinting as though he can see right through me. “And that bothers you?”
Of course, it fucking bothers me. “Nah, man. Why should I care?”
“Probably because you’re borderline obsessed with the woman,” Griffin goads.
Knee bouncing under the booth, I glare at my teammate. “I’m not obsessed with her. I don’t trust her, that’s all. And now she’s trying to wiggle her way into our group by befriending your wives. It’s just shady, don’t you think?”
“From what Isla told me, they had to bug her to agree to hang out with them,” Maddox says. “I don’t think she’s doing any wiggling.”
Griffin chuckles. “Logie’s just pissed she’s not doing any wiggling on his dick, even though he wants her to.”
“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want that woman anywhere near my dick. I don’t trust her.”
“Uh-huh.” Griffin takes a sip of his beer and glances down at my lap. “Is that why you’re sporting a semi, bro?”
Shifting in my seat, I glare at Griffin. “Dude, quit staring at my dick.”
“It’s been weeks,” Bash says, ever the voice of reason. “You can’t honestly still believe all of this was some Machiavellian plan on her part. The woman hasn’t approached you a single time since she started working for the Rogues.”
“Yeah,” Ryder adds, smirking. “But she has run away and hidden from you.”
These assholes. Why am I friends with them again?
“Can we drop it and focus on one of you idiots for a while?”
“Actually, there is something I’ve been wanting to talk to you guys about.” Ryder sits taller and his eyes get this faraway look to them.
Here we go. He’s going to start talking about Lexi. They’ve been together for almost a year, and he’s totally gone for her.
“What do you all have planned for Christmas? Because I have an idea, but I’ll need accomplices to pull it off.”
“What kind of plan?” Bash asks.
“I’m going to ask Lexi to marry me at her mom’s cabin. Recreate our first Christmas together…”
I should leave.
“I think I’m going to head out,” I say, slapping my palms on the table and standing.
Griffin looks up at me with one raised brow from my right, but makes no move to get up and let me out of the booth. So I look to Ryder on my left. He just shakes his head.
“No way. You’re staying. You can’t run away anytime Blair is in the same building as you.”
What does the rookie know? I sure as shit can run away to avoid her.
“I’m tired,” I lie. “And I have a bunch of stuff I need to get done tomorrow.”
“Bullshit,” Griffin says, pretending to cough the word out like he’s a kid.
My retort dies on my lips when a group of four giggling, obviously tipsy women stumble into Chasers with an amused Maddox trailing behind them.
They’re all smiling broadly, clinging to each other in a bid to stay upright.
When his wife stumbles, Maddox steadies her with a strong hand, and Blair giggles beside her.
Well, looks like my attempt to escape has been foiled. If I leave now, Blair will think she won. That she chased me away.
Fuck that.
“Looks like they had fun,” Bash says, humor lacing his tone.
“And a bottle of wine each,” Ryder adds. “Not that I’m complaining. Wine makes Lex horny.”
Griffin laughs loudly at that. “Mira, too.”
Rub it in, assholes. I scrub a hand across the back of my neck.
I need to find some company for tonight.
I haven’t slept with anyone since Blair, and I don’t want to let myself consider why.
So I’ll just tell myself that it’s because the start of the season is always hectic.
It has nothing to do with the beautiful brunette with the body of a goddess or the fact that she snuck out before I could.
Nothing at all.
Tearing my eyes away from Blair, I scan the bar. There are some beautiful women here—there always are—but no one stands out to me. They’re stunning, but my dick isn’t moved. Literally or figuratively.
It’s annoying as hell.
“Hello, boys,” Mira sing-songs as she clambers into the booth and presses herself into Griffin’s side. “Nice to see you this lovely night.”
Griffin smiles, looking at his wife as if she hung the moon. “Looks like someone had fun.” He leans down and kisses her, and I ignore the strange twinge in my chest.
“So much fun,” she replies when their lips break apart. “I painted the best tree ever.”
They painted trees? Is that the kind of thing women find fun?
“Everyone’s trees were perfect,” Isla says. She’s a teacher. She probably feels like she has to say that because she’s used to telling her students that anything they create is a masterpiece.
Blair, who has studiously avoided looking my way since the ladies made it to our table and squeezed in around the booth, snorts. Her stunning brown eyes widen, then all the women are cackling.
How much did they drink?
“What?” Griffin asks, his attention pinging between Blair and Mira.
“Nothing,” Mira manages to wheeze out. “Isla’s totally not lying. Everyone did so good. No one painted a tree that looked like a drunken stick figure with a few extra arms.”
Blair’s golden-brown skin warms and her shoulders shake.
I want to look away, but I’m mesmerized.
She may be a conniving little liar, but she’s beautiful.
There’s no way around it. Which is really fucking inconvenient, because I don’t want to think she’s beautiful.
I don’t want my cock to stir in my pants for the first time in weeks because of her.
Shit.
“And who exactly painted the drunk stick figure tree?” Griffin asks, even though that’s pretty obvious, based on the way the girls all keep glancing at Blair and giggling.
Blair lets her head fall back against the bench seat, a deep sigh falling from her pretty lips. “In my defense, I told you all I can’t paint, even when I’m sober. And who was the sadist who decided trees were the perfect subject matter for a bunch of drunk people? Trees are hard, okay?”
“You would know all about how hard wood is, wouldn’t you?” Lexi says conspiratorially.
There’s a brief moment of silence as the guys and I share an incredulous look, then the women burst out in loud laughter.
Blair’s cheeks warm further. It draws every eye our way, and I don’t miss the lingering looks of appreciation Blair garners.
My spine stiffens, and I want to tell them to fuck off.
Wait, what? Get your shit together, Logan. It doesn’t matter who looks at Blair. She’s not yours, and you don’t even like her.
“Did you get to keep the paintings?” Ryder asks.
“They’re in the back of my SUV,” Maddox replies, trying to hide a smile. Clearly, he agrees with his sister’s assessment of Blair’s painting.
“I need to see them.” Griffin wraps an arm around his wife. “We’ll hang yours in the living room, sunshine.”
“Oh, trust me, you won’t want to do that.” She cringes, and I can’t help it. I chuckle. “It’s… It’s not great.”
“Why don’t we order some food for the ladies,” Bash suggests, waving our server over. “You don’t want to wake up with a wine headache tomorrow morning.”
“You’re so thoughtful, Bash.” Isla grins at him. “You are going to make some lucky woman very happy one day.”
I feel myself frowning because no one has ever said something like that to me. Which is usually how I prefer things. My attention turns to Blair, who smiles softly at Bash.
Does she want to be the one he makes happy?
Why the fuck does that thought make me want to punch a hole through the wall?
I’m stewing in my annoyance and confusion as Bash orders a few different appetizers for the women to share, my frown deepening when I happen to look up and meet Blair’s eyes. She flinches when she sees my stormy expression and immediately looks away.
Goddamn it. I want her to stay away from me, but I don’t want the woman to be afraid of me.
Then maybe you should stop acting like a giant asshole, my inner voice admonishes. It sounds suspiciously like Bash. Of course, he’d be my internal voice of reason.
Groaning, I rub a hand over my face, trying to school it into a less pissed-off expression. Then I clear my throat and direct a question to Blair.
“Did you have fun tonight?”
She startles a little when she realizes I’m speaking to her. Her attention pings between me and the people sitting around her before she points at herself. “Me?”
Jesus. Have I been that bad that she looks shocked I’m speaking to her?