Page 13 of Best Kept Secret (The New York Thunder #3)
LOGAN
A s I turn onto Bowery and slow to a roll, my eyes are peeled as I scan the crowds huddled outside the clubs and bars that line both sides of the street.
When I spot a familiar redhead, entirely underdressed for a late February night in New York City wearing nothing but a pair of knee-high cowboy boots and a flannel shirt posing as a dress under an oversized jean jacket, annoyance curls low in my stomach because yes, she looks hot as hell with those sexy ass thighs on display, but they’re predicting snow tonight and she’s not wearing any fucking pants.
“Fuck me,” I mutter, unfastening my seatbelt and hopping out of my car with a huff.
“That’s a no standing zone, pal,” one of the bouncers says, pointing at my idling Porsche.
Tow me . Ignoring him, my jaw is set tight as I focus wholeheartedly on Millie. As if she can feel my intense gaze on her, she looks up from her phone, big green eyes flaring the second she sees me. And, without a word, I grab her wrist, firm yet gentle, and walk her back to my car.
Yanking open the passenger door, I wait .
With her chin held high, she just stands there. Stubborn ass. “Get in the car, Millie.”
She blinks at me, as if she’s waiting for something.
She cannot be serious. “ Please ,” I grit.
It’s only then she hops into the car with a satisfied smirk playing on her lips.
I try not to stare at her thighs as the sorry excuse for a dress she’s wearing climbs even higher.
Glancing sideways, I spot a group of guys vaping on the sidewalk, a few of them watching on with keen interest, and I take a step to the left so that I’m blocking their view of a potential crotch shot.
Millie looks up at me.
I arch a brow. “Seatbelt.”
Rolling her eyes, she tugs the belt over her shoulder, and it isn’t until I hear the telltale click that I slam the door shut and round the hood, glancing back at the group of guys with a warning glare before getting into my car.
“How did you even know I was out?”
I can’t look at her. I’m too busy watching the road and trying to avoid drunk pedestrians as I turn onto Houston, but I can feel her eyes on me.
“I was at your place.”
“My place?”
“Dallas’s.”
“He made you come get me?” I catch her balk from my periphery.
“Red, if he knew I was here right now with you in my car, he would kick my sorry ass into the middle of next week.” I scoff, glancing at her to find a confused furrow between her eyebrows.
“We were hanging out. Playing video games. I noticed you weren’t there…
” I say as casually as I can without straight up admitting the only reason I accepted Dallas’s offer in the group chat to go over and play Call of Duty in the first place was in the hopes of seeing her.
“Emily mentioned you were out with Fran…” I shrug.
“When I realized how late it was, I—” I snap my mouth shut before I say too much and we drive in silence for a few blocks.
“Where’s your girlfriend ?”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “Don’t have one.”
“That’s not what I heard…”
My head snaps to the side, gawking at her incredulously. “What?”
Arms folded across her chest, her grin is smug as she stares out the windshield.
“I don’t know what you heard ,” I say, emphasizing the word, “but I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Fran and Emily think you do.”
When I come to a stop at a red light, I throw my head back on a heavy exhale, closing my eyes a moment because of fucking course they’ve been yapping.
“They said there’s definitely something going on between you and… her .”
I really like Millie. More than like. But the way she says her instead of Hannah’s name, with such utter contempt, pisses me off. I shake my head. “Don’t be that girl, Red.”
I feel her staring at me, and when I look at her, I see nothing but stubborn defiance in her eyes.
“You’re better than that.”
Her wall cracks a touch, and I catch a glimpse of the Millie I met that first night. She sighs, looking away first, and the light goes green so I continue, turning down the side street and pulling into the first parking spot I can find.
“Where are we?” Millie huffs.
“You need food.” I kill the engine.
“I’m not hungry.” She scrunches up her face, looking out at the diner lit up against the darkness outside.
“Wasn’t a question,” I mutter, hopping out and slamming my door shut.
Millie’s glaring at me from across the table of the booth we’re seated at.
It’s hilarious. She thinks she’s scary or intimidating, but in all honesty, she’s fucking adorable.
Even more when she’s pissed. Arms crossed, one eye narrowed, pouty lips pursed.
It’s taking all I have not to openly stare at her, but I know ignoring her and scrolling through my phone is only pissing her off even more.
“What can I get you two?”
I look up from my phone, grinning at the waitress as she appears by our table.
“I’ll grab the egg white omelet with peppers, mushrooms, onion, and spinach, and a black coffee.” I jut my chin in Millie’s direction. “And she’ll have the cheeseburger, pickle on the side, and a Sprite, no ice. Thank you.”
The lady nods, turning and heading back to the counter, and when I find Millie gaping at me, I flash her a cocky grin, lifting my glass of iced water to my lips and taking a sip.
“I’m not eating that,” she hisses. “I don’t even like Sprite.”
“You need something to soak up the liquor,” I say. “And the Sprite will help settle your stomach.”
She rolls her eyes, but again, I ignore her, going back to my phone like it’s the most important task at hand.
I’m not doing anything except checking the scores from the games played tonight, but she doesn’t know that.
I laugh to myself for effect, really trying to get under her skin, for no other reason than because when she reacts, I know it’s because she gives a damn.
She can act indifferent all she wants, but the truth is, I saw that look in her eyes last night when I had her pinned up against my car; she might hate me, but she still fucking wants me.
When the food arrives, I look up in time to see Millie’s eyes light up at the sight of her burger, and I bite back my smile. Her gaze flits to me, and a somewhat sheepish grin ghosts her lips. “Okay, so… I’m hungry. Sue me,” she sasses.
“Didn’t say a word.” I shake my head, my smile winning the battle as I take a sip of my coffee, watching her over the lip of the mug.
Millie takes a bite of her food, and I am not prepared for the sound she makes. Eyes closed, savoring the taste, it’s borderline erotic. I’m forced to shift in my seat and clear my throat, willing my dick to behave.
“So,” I begin, averting my gaze downwards to my omelet. “What happened with your internship?” I glance up as I cut into my food. “When’d you find out?”
She wipes her mouth with a napkin as she finishes chewing. “I only found out a couple of weeks ago.” She takes a sip of her Sprite, wincing at the taste and wiping her mouth with her napkin again. “Apparently it didn’t work out with their first pick, so…” She shrugs. “I was next in line.”
“I miss you.”
When I realize what I’ve just said—out loud—I fumble my fork, the silverware falling against my plate with a loud clang. Looking across at Millie, she seems just as surprised. But there’s also the hint of flush that dusts her cheeks, so I know I haven’t completely fucked things up.
Millie releases a heavy breath, her shoulders falling, and I can tell she’s ready to object, or say something sassy, or mention my non-existent girlfriend again.
So, before she can, I take a deep breath and go for broke.
“I miss our late-night phone calls. I miss waking up to a text message from you every morning. I miss you telling me about your day.” My gaze dips to her lips.
“I miss your cherry-flavored lips. I miss—everything.”
She stares at me for a long moment, eyes bouncing between mine as a plethora of different emotions flash in her gaze.
And I’m almost certain she’s about to relent, about to give me the chance I’ve been dreaming of for the last three months.
But then my phone shudders on the table right next to my coffee, and I see her green gaze flit to the device, her face falling the second she sees it.
I look down to my phone to see a new text message notification illuminated on the screen, and my stomach falls into the pit of my ass.
Hannah .
Millie scoffs, and I look back up at her to see that same betrayal flicker in her steely gaze. “Well played, Logan Cullen,” she chides, tossing her balled up napkin onto her plate of food. “You almost had me fooled. Again.”
Grabbing her purse, she heaves herself up and out of the booth, and on a heavy sigh I close my eyes and allow my head to fall forward, chin to chest, with a muttered, “Fuck.”