Page 10

TEN

MJ

I’d spent the entire day trying not to think about Logan.

His stupid dimple. His stupid, cocky confidence. The way his shirt had felt soft and warm against my skin. The way he had made me feel safe and seen, which was entirely unfair. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Yoo-hoo, Earth to MJ.”

I came back to life with a start, blinking when Carol’s confused face came into view.

She waved a folder in the air before setting it in front of me. “What is with you today? It’s like you’re on another planet. Room seventeen is pissed because she spent her weekly cash at bingo but doesn’t remember. Think you can calm her down?”

I nodded and swallowed hard, willing the memory of waking to Logan’s masculine warmth beside me to go away. When I woke up in the hotel room, for a split second I had panicked—until I remembered.

Logan. Hotel room. The storm.

And, oh god, his shirt.

His shirt was soft, heavier than my usual sleepwear, and it had still smelled like him, like faint cologne mixed with something inherently Logan . I’d stolen it on my way out of the hotel room, though I was still a little unsure as to why .

I remembered the way he’d looked when he handed it to me—broad shoulders, the shadow of soft hair dusting his chest, and a confidence that was somehow comforting and maddening all at once.

It was no surprise that he’d slipped into my thoughts all day.

I looked at Carol. “No problem. I’ll head over there now.”

A buzz in my pocket sent my pulse spiking again.

A text from Logan.

I hesitated, thumb hovering over the notification, half-wondering if opening it meant opening more than just a message. But curiosity was stronger than my caution.

Logan

Going to the Grudge Holder tonight. Care to join?

The audacity made me laugh, even as I felt my stomach flip. I hadn’t seen him since I had sneaked out of the hotel room. Part of me wanted to stay home, curl up with a book, and forget Logan Brown existed. The other part? It wanted to walk into the Grudge, head held high, and prove that whatever I felt for him wasn’t real. I tried to sound nonchalant in my reply.

Celebrating?

Logan

A bit. We won.

You know, townies just call it the Grudge.

His response was immediate, like he’d been waiting for me, and my stomach flipped.

Logan

Don’t make me beg, Sweetie Pie.

Sweetie Pie? Gross. Keep trying.

Logan

Noted. I also need to talk to you about coming to another game.

Because I’m lucky?

Logan

Because I like having you there. (Also yes, I would like to test my theory.)

I rolled my eyes, suppressing a grin. I couldn’t let him have the satisfaction of thinking he had me wrapped around his finger.

I might be there, if only to disprove this ridiculous theory of yours.

Logan

The only thing ridiculous is you snuck out without saying goodbye.

Goodbye, Logan. (Happy?)

His last reply came as I was putting my phone away and hustling toward room seventeen.

Logan

See you tonight, Pumpkin.

I chuckled, pocketing my phone with a feeling I didn’t want to name.

* * *

It was Saturday night, so not at all surprising that the Grudge was crowded. Despite the fact that the height of tourist season was over, the Grudge was the place for people to grab a bite to eat or a few drinks. I walked in with Sylvie and Annie by my side. I scanned the open bar and smiled.

It wasn’t all that long ago that the Grudge was distinctly separated. The Sullivans, and those who aligned with them, on one side. My family and ours on the other. Since Duke and Sylvie crossed the invisible divide and even had a baby, Kings and Sullivans were mingling in the middle. It was a strange, but happy, mixture of my small town’s rival families.

I waved to a few distant cousins huddled in the corner while a band was just starting their set.

Annie leaned toward me. “Lee is coming by once his shift is over. He said he could drive us all home if we needed it.”

Sylvie smiled. “A goofball with a heart of gold.”

Annie laughed. “That’s my man.”

I turned to my sister. “No Duke?” I teased.

“You mean my house husband?” she joked. “Not a chance.”

We both knew her broody husband was more than happy to stay home with their son and never set foot in the Grudge unless he was forced by Sylvie or his brothers to be social. In reality, he was the perfect match for my quiet, selfless sister: grumpy, tenderhearted, and hopelessly devoted to her.

My nerves jumped as I scanned the crowd, trying to pretend like I wasn’t actively searching for Logan. We hadn’t discussed what time he planned to be at the Grudge. I had invited Annie and Sylvie out with the hopes that I’d appear casually aloof and not overly anxious to see him, which was 100 percent the truth.

“Who are you looking for?” Sylvie asked as Annie ordered three lemon drop shots from the bartender.

Annie turned and laughed. “Probably her hot rugby boyfriend.”

My attention snapped in her direction. “He’s not my boyfriend. We’re barely even friends .”

I conveniently left out the part about sleeping next to him all night.

Annie leaned in. “You’re telling me that you haven’t imagined what it would be like to see him naked?”

“Leave her alone,” Sylvie cut in. Her face softened when she looked at me and placed a gentle hand on my arm. “Virginity is nothing to be ashamed of.”

The fuck?

“Is that what you think?” I looked between my friend and sister. “I’ve had sex.”

Once ...

They blinked at me like they didn’t know what to say next.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled. “ Fine. I may not be the most experienced woman in the room, but I’m not totally clueless.” Their pitying glances were setting me on edge. My voice rose. “I know my way around a dick, okay?”

Annie sputtered a laugh as Sylvie’s jaw popped open.

I lowered my voice and dismissed the curious glances. “I’ve had ... experiences . It’s just that whenever it comes to actual sex, sometimes I freeze. My head gets clouded with all the what-if s and reasons he won’t call after.” I snatched one of the lemon drop shots in front of me and threw it back. “I can have plenty of fun without ... that. ”

Sylvie put up both hands. “Well, color me corrected. I didn’t realize my baby sister was such a slut.”

We all laughed, and I shook my head, easing the tension that had bunched between my shoulder blades.

“You know,” Annie said as she shot back her drink, “there aren’t any rules. You could have fun without all the extra pressure on yourself. No expectations, no heartbreak.”

The idea immediately took root.

No expectations.

No heartbreak.

Was it really that simple? I think I was innately built for commitment, but what if I chose for things to stay casual? How could I feel used if I was the one doing the using?

I reached forward and gripped Annie’s face between my hands and plopped an obnoxious, smacking kiss right on her lips. “Annie, you’re a genius.”

She laughed and bent her knees in a tiny curtsy. “Thank you, I agree.”

“Excuse me?” A deep voice rumbled behind me and I grinned.

When I turned, my stomach soured, and the smile melted off my face at the sight of a tall stranger standing in front of me.

Whoops. Definitely not Logan .

I blinked up at him as he held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

“Um ...” I looked around for an easy exit, but Annie and Sylvie only smiled and nodded eagerly.

“Sure, okay,” I answered before sliding off the stool. At the very least, he was offering an escape from even more embarrassing conversations about my limited sex life.

Out of politeness, I placed my hand in his and allowed him to lead me to the dance floor. It was an upbeat country song that was popular on the radio.

“Can you two-step?” the stranger asked.

I looked up and forced a smile. “I can try.”

“All you’ve got to do is follow, darling.” He winked, and my eyes searched the crowd again. When Logan used a nickname, it was silly, but I didn’t love the way this man’s eager eyes hovered a second too long on my face.

I looked over his shoulder as Annie gave me two thumbs up before miming an enthusiastic blow job. I fought past a giggle and focused on the other dancers as the man led me around the worn, wooden dance floor.

As he guided me through the two-step, his hand pressed low on my back, lingering in a way that made my skin crawl. He was too close, his grip too familiar for a simple dance between strangers. His cologne was sharp, almost overpowering, and it took everything in me not to grimace as he leaned down to murmur near my ear.

“You’re good at this,” he said, his voice smooth, but it only made my pulse speed up in the wrong way.

“Thanks,” I replied, forcing another smile, but my eyes kept scanning the crowd. I caught Annie’s gaze again, but she was deep in conversation, her attention elsewhere now, and I was left to fend for myself.

His hand slid lower than it should have, his cologne suffocating. I forced a smile, focusing on the other dancers, but my skin prickled with unease. When his breath hit my ear, murmuring something I didn’t quite catch, I decided I’d had enough.

As the song ended, like a ripple in the air, I felt a change—a new presence close by, one that sent a strange, reassuring calm through me.

And then I heard his voice.

“Mind if I cut in?”

Relief flooded me, but it was tangled with something else—something that made my pulse race. The stranger’s steps faltered, his hand loosening on me as he looked up in annoyance. I turned, and there was Logan, his stance casual but his eyes hard, exuding a quiet confidence. Logan wasn’t just standing there—he was looming, his broad frame an unspoken warning that made the stranger step back without a word.

“I think we were just getting started.” The stranger tightened his grip on my waist as I tried to pull away.

“Actually,” Logan continued, his gaze never wavering, “I wasn’t asking you. I was speaking to the lady. She’s with me.”

Without waiting for a reply, Logan reached for my elbow, his fingers curling around it with a strength that grounded me.

The stranger hesitated, eyes narrowing as he sized up Logan.

Mild panic itched in my throat. A muscle in Logan’s jaw flexed. “You can start it,” he challenged the man, “but I guarantee I’ll end it.”

The stranger paused, then shrugged and backed off, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like prick .

Logan’s grip tightened slightly, his silent message clear: He wasn’t letting me go.

“You all right?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, the warmth in his eyes undoing the last of my tension.

I nodded, a fresh wave of relief washing over me, and I looked up at him as my thoughts thumped to the beat of the music.

Casual.

Casual.

Casual.

Logan’s hand slid to the small of my back, pulling me close in a way that felt nothing like the stranger’s grasp. His touch was sure and steady, and the loud music and laughter around us faded, leaving just him and me, our breaths mingling in the small space between us.

His hand on my waist was steady, grounding me in a way that made me want to lean into him, to trust him. But that was dangerous.

Trust was a slippery slope.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he murmured, his mouth quirked in a half smile that sent my heart racing for a completely different reason.

“Believe me, you weren’t interrupting anything,” I replied, my voice shaky but light. The words were meant as a joke, but the intensity in his gaze was anything but.

“Good,” he said softly, his hand moving just slightly, almost teasing, but with that steady warmth that had my pulse pounding.

We fell into a rhythm, the romantic country tune now just background noise to the silent exchange between us. Logan’s grip was firm yet gentle, his hand guiding mine in a way that made me feel like I was the only person in the room. His thumb brushed the back of my hand, and that one small movement sent shivers down my spine.

“Fair warning—I can’t dance,” he said, and the amusement in his eyes made my cheeks flush.

“Maybe we can just sway,” I replied, feeling bolder now, relaxed in his arms as we moved to the slow, sensual music.

He smiled, a glint of something mischievous in his eyes. “I can do that.” And he did, his steps steady and sure, swaying gently on the outskirts of the dance floor while more experienced dancers moved around us.

I barely had to think, his presence wrapping around me, his hand warm and possessive on my lower back, but not in a way that felt controlling, just ... protective.

Right.

His hand shifted slightly, his fingers tracing a path that left tingling warmth in their wake. The air between us grew charged, the casual dance turning into something else entirely, something heavier, filled with possibilities.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about something all day,” he said, his voice a low murmur just above the music.

I looked up in anticipation.

Logan’s eyes flicked to my lips and back up. “I think I almost kissed you yesterday.”

My breath caught, and I searched his face, unsure whether he was joking. But the intensity in his gaze was unmistakable.

“You think?” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah.” He leaned down, his mouth close to my ear, his breath warm. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. “If I’d had the chance ... I would have started here.” His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, his gaze never leaving mine. “I would have gone slow,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost like he was holding himself back. “Just enough to make you wonder.”

He paused, his other hand tracing a gentle line along my waist. “I would have pulled you close, like this,” he continued, drawing me even closer until there was almost no space between us, his body warm and solid against mine.

“And then?” I breathed, feeling every nerve in my body come alive.

He smiled, his lips dangerously close to mine. “Then I would have kept you waiting, just for a second, until you couldn’t stand it. Until you needed it as much as I did.”

The tension between us was thick, nearly electric, and it took every ounce of restraint not to close the distance between us.

His gaze dropped to my lips, and for a breathless moment I thought he’d actually do it. But he stopped, that wicked glint in his eyes back in full force.

“But not here,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Not with an audience.”

“Oh.” I let out a shaky laugh, hoping it masked the way my pulse was racing, feeling equal parts relief and frustration.

“That kiss would be only for you,” he replied, grinning, his hand lingering on my waist, holding me close a moment longer before finally, reluctantly, he stepped back just as the song ended.

I swallowed hard, my eyes bouncing between his. If I had any hope of being the kind of girl who kept things casual and feelings-free, I needed some space.

The secret that I’d been keeping—that I knew who he was and we had a shared history—gnawed at me.

“I know who you are,” I blurted.

His brow creased. “And who am I?”

I blinked, trying to get my thoughts straight. “Maverick.” My eyebrows rose, waiting for him to react.

He huffed a laugh and grinned. “It’s a stupid nickname from childhood.” His smile lifted. “Grandpa told you?”

My smile faltered, a strange knot twisting in my stomach as the name lingered in the air. “No, it’s ...” I started, my voice hardening.

Even thinking about Trent filled the air in a way I didn’t like, like a door creaking open to a place I had tried to lock away.

He must’ve noticed the shift in my expression, because his brow furrowed slightly, his eyes searching mine. “Are you okay?”

I forced a laugh, but it came out hollow. “Yeah. It’s just ...” I blew out a breath. “I knew someone who used to talk about a best friend with that name.”

“Huh. Someone I know?” He leaned in, curious but oblivious, like he couldn’t see the cracks forming in front of him.

“Yeah,” I murmured, feeling my stomach drop. My mouth went dry as I searched his face for a trace of recognition, a glimmer that he’d know exactly who I was talking about. But his expression stayed open and unguarded, completely unaware.

“Trent Fischer,” I said finally, my voice nearly cracking. “You’re friends, right?”

For a split second, Logan’s face lit up, the mention of Trent sparking a warm smile that twisted something deep inside me. “Hell yeah, we’re friends. Trent’s my best friend. I’ve known him since we were kids. Why?” He chuckled, clearly happy to share a story that, to him, was harmless.

But to me, his words landed like ice water doused over my head. The weight of it all hit me then, crashing over me like a wave. “Because I know him too.”

I took a step back, the ground beneath me tilting, my throat tightening painfully. I suddenly felt the need to leave, to escape the reminder of everything Trent had taken from me. But Logan reached out, his hand brushing my arm, and the warmth of his touch rooted me in place.

“MJ?” he asked, concern flickering in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

I swallowed, my voice barely holding. “I ... I don’t know. I’ve known you were friends for a while. It felt wrong not to tell you.”

Logan’s brow furrowed deeper, his confusion turning to worry. “How do you know Trent?”

The irony was almost laughable.

His best friend didn’t even know I had existed because Trent had been careful to keep me a secret even though we’d dated for months .

“Oh, I knew him,” I managed, struggling to keep my voice steady. “He mentioned his friends, but apparently he left out a lot of details.”

Like the fact that his beloved friend Maverick was Logan Brown, famous Olympic rugby player.

“Did he say something about me?” Logan’s expression softened, a hint of protectiveness there that nearly broke my resolve. “I know Trent can be a little jealous, but he means well.”

I didn’t know if Trent was secretive about Logan’s true identity because he was hiding me or if it was because Trent always liked to be the most amazing person in the room.

Logan’s words tore through me, each one stinging more than the last. I could barely bring myself to look at him, but when I did, his face was open, honest—like he was still that guy I’d spent all this time with, getting to know.

The reality I had tried to ignore came crashing down. Now everything felt tainted, wrapped in the shadow of Trent’s betrayal.

“I don’t think you knew him like I did.” I lifted my chin. I was less than an hour into trying to be a new person—the kind of woman who didn’t let an asshole ex ruin a potential good time.

Still, the memories of what he’d done poked at my ribs.

Logan’s face fell, realization dawning slowly. “MJ ... did something happen between you two?”

My laugh was bitter, empty. I looked away, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “We dated. And he ... he wasn’t exactly honest with me.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, a storm gathering in his eyes as he tried to process what I was saying. The warmth in his eyes was replaced with something harder—something that looked a lot like regret. “MJ ... I’m sorry, but I have no idea what’s going on. I swear. Trent never ... Look, I travel a lot with the team and he never said anything to me.”

The concern in his voice was real, but it didn’t change the hurt twisting inside me.

The truth came tumbling out. “We dated for months . He didn’t say anything because, to him, I was nothing. And now here I am, standing in front of his best friend, who didn’t know who I was either.” My voice cracked, the embarrassment of it all crashing down on me.

“I ... I think I need some air.” My voice was barely steady, and I took a step back, feeling like I was unraveling at the seams. I pulled away from him, every part of me screaming to get out of this place, away from him, away from the reminder of everything Trent had done. “You’re his best friend. You’ve probably heard all about his conquests, his games, his lies.”

Logan looked stricken, his face pale as he shook his head. “No, MJ, that’s not ... he’s never told me anything like that. I swear, I didn’t know he was like that with you.”

The sincerity in his voice made me falter, my anger and hurt warring with the part of me that wanted to believe him. But the memories were too strong, the wounds too deep.

“This was a mistake. I’ll see you around, Logan.”

Without stopping to say goodbye, I left Annie and Sylvie and walked outside.

I barely heard Logan calling after me as I pushed through the crowd, my chest tight and my vision blurred. The cold night air hit me like a slap, but it did nothing to calm the storm raging inside me. I wanted to scream, to cry, to disappear.

I wanted to be the kind of woman who could flirt with or sleep with anyone she pleased. I didn’t want my feelings to get tangled up in a good time, because when it didn’t work out, then I’d really be a mess.