Page 19

NINETEEN

LOGAN

MJ looked like shit.

Not like actual shit—she was still stunning, but the red rim around her eyes betrayed her. Whatever had happened at that house had rattled her, and I had no clue how to make it better.

The slow elevator ride was fraught with tension.

Do I ask how it went, even though it’s clear what the answer will be?

I was stuck in a weird limbo of wanting to offer comfort while trying to give her the space she might need.

Her silence sliced through me. Every instinct screamed to wrap her up and shield her from whatever had shaken her, but I couldn’t tell if that was what she needed.

Our silence yawned and grew as the elevator stopped on the third floor to let in another passenger. The old man offered a polite smile and stood off to the side. I took a side step toward MJ.

We leaned against the back wall, side by side, not speaking. I ran my hands down my thighs and shifted her bag on my shoulder while some shitty instrumental music filled the small space.

The man must have also felt the tension in the elevator, because he started to whistle along with the music. When I realized the song was “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails and the old man was whistling right along to it, my jaw flexed to hide a smile.

MJ’s gaze slid to me as I bit back a giggle. Her lips flattened, and I tried to breathe through my nose.

We reached our floor, and the elevator dinged before the doors opened to let us out. I extended my hand to gesture that she should go first. As we skirted past the old man, I acknowledged him with a nod.

“Evening,” he responded and then went right back to whistling.

As soon as the doors closed at our backs, MJ doubled over with a laugh. I followed suit, dropping her bag and leaning against the wall.

“Holy shit, do you think he knew?” she asked, wiping tears from her eyes.

I looked at her. “He knew every verse.”

My deadpan delivery made her laugh again.

“Oh,” she exhaled. “I needed that.” She stood tall, walked down the hallway, and started humming the song to herself. The throaty vibrations paired with what I knew the lyrics to be made me grin.

Given the chance, I’d fuck MJ like an animal in a heartbeat.

When we got closer, I gestured toward the end of the hallway. “That way and to the left.”

Our room was nestled at the back of a long corridor. The suite was secluded from other parts of the hotel, offering an upscale and private experience.

I didn’t know if a fancy room could fix a shitty day, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. The second I saw the view and the plush bed, I knew it was exactly what MJ needed: space to breathe, to feel safe.

The team didn’t normally stay at such a ritzy hotel, but I had made special arrangements. I’d wanted to give her something nice after what I knew was a brutal day. Maybe it was overkill, but if it made her smile, it was worth every penny. And sure ... I wanted to impress her a little. The boutique hotel was ridiculously expensive, but for good reason.

Using my key card, I unlocked the door and moved aside to allow MJ to enter first.

“What the hell ...” she called out.

I grinned and stepped in beside her. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered an impressive view of the city skyline and Lake Michigan.

The suite came with a private butler, who nodded with a subtle bow. “Welcome to the presidential suite, Ms. King. Mr. Brown.”

I stepped past MJ’s gaping stare and extended a hand. “Thank you. What’s your name, sir?”

“Benedict, sir.”

I shook his hand. “Thanks, Benedict. I’m Logan. This is MJ.” When I looked at MJ, her mouth was open. With a grin, I used my knuckle to push it closed and diverted my attention back to Benedict.

“A pleasure,” he said. “I can take that.” He gestured toward MJ’s duffel on my shoulder, and I passed it to him. “The other piece of luggage was delivered this morning, and I took the liberty of unpacking it in the primary bedroom.”

“Thanks, Ben.” I smiled and gently patted a shocked MJ on the back.

Benedict was completely unfazed by MJ’s gawking. “May I prepare some coffee or tea? If you’d like, I can arrange for room service or a dinner reservation, if you prefer.”

I smiled at him. “I think we’ll take a minute to settle in. If we need anything, I will let you know.”

Benedict bowed again. “Very well, sir. If you need anything at all, you can pick up the phone and dial nine-two-four. That is my direct line, or you can communicate with me directly via the hotel’s app.”

I held out my hand again. “I appreciate that.”

Benedict shook my hand and disappeared into the primary bedroom with MJ’s bag.

“Pretty nice, right?” I asked.

MJ turned and blinked at me. “Pretty nice?” She gestured around the room. “Pretty nice?”

I grinned. The suite was bigger than the apartment I was renting, and the atmosphere in the suite was cool and casual. The architectural details were evident in each space. The kitchen area was spacious and clean. There was a sitting area near a fireplace. One bedroom was to the left, tucked behind French-style doors, and another to the right. I may have canceled the extra room, but when given the opportunity to upgrade to the presidential suite, I took it.

Benedict silently exited, and I felt the knot in my shoulder release. I’d spent the entire day distracted with worry about MJ and how things were going for her. My head wasn’t where it needed to be, but now that she was here, I could relax.

I watched as MJ explored the suite, her fingers grazing over the back of the chairs near the fire. She stopped by the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out over Lake Michigan.

“Think we can see Outtatowner from here?” she asked with a wistful note to her voice.

The way her lips curved into that soft smile—god, it did something to me. For a moment the shadows under her eyes faded, replaced by this quiet hope that lit her up from the inside.

An undefined part of me wanted to be the one who kept that light burning.

I sidled up behind her. “I think if I squint really hard, I can almost see the lighthouse.”

She hummed a laugh, knowing it was bullshit. My hands smoothed up her arms, hating the layers of fabric between us. I could feel the tension radiating off her, but she hadn’t opened up about how her meeting had gone.

It felt too awkward to ask, so I figured distraction was the next-best option.

“So what do you feel like?” I asked. “The team dinner is at Nivori, a French-Japanese fusion restaurant. Or we can order something and hang out here. Lady’s choice.”

MJ considered my offer as she continued to wander around the suite. She pulled open the French doors and gasped. In the center of the primary bedroom was a massive four-poster bed. Off to the side in the primary bathroom, there was an oversize soaking tub and steam shower. Across from it was a grand walk-in closet.

The suite was definitely overkill, given we were staying only one night, but the look of shocked pleasure on her face alone was worth it.

“Dibs on this room.” MJ laughed and launched herself toward the bed, bouncing as she landed on her back.

I walked toward her, latching onto her ankle and dragging her toward the end of the bed. My fingers slipped under the bottom hem of her jeans, seeking the warmth of her skin. She giggled and stared up at me.

“That’s fine,” I replied. “There’s an identical one across the living room.”

Her bottom lip jutted out as she shimmied to the side. “Hop up here. Let’s see if it’s big enough for the both of us.”

The bed was massive, so when I turned and fell backward onto it with a thud, she barely jostled. Together, we stared up at the ceiling.

“Seems roomy enough,” I said, trying to ignore the way my cock noticed the fact we were lying together on the bed.

MJ rolled toward me, tucking her hands under her face. “Are you too tired for the team dinner? Because if you’re not, I think I’d like the distraction.”

I wasn’t tired. In fact, I wouldn’t have minded getting more fatigued after a few rounds of my new favorite pastime: Make MJ Scream My Name.

I shook my head. “I’m not too tired.” I slipped my phone from the pocket of my jeans. “I’ll let them know you’re joining us.” I typed out the message to our manager, who handled all the reservations. “Maria will be thrilled.”

MJ exhaled. “I really, really like her.”

And I really, really like you.

My brows creased, as I tried to process what was happening between us. She swore she wanted things to be friendly and casual. That was good. It was what I needed, but I couldn’t deny the invisible pull that was there, whether I liked it or not.

Breaking the silence, MJ shot out of the bed and walked toward the bathroom. “How much time do I have to get ready?”

I looked at the time. “About an hour, but take all the time you need.”

She nodded and the door clicked closed.

I looked back at the ceiling with a heavy sigh.

Things with MJ were getting dangerous.

A serious part of me knew I needed to shove aside all my feelings for MJ. She was too sweet, too innocent. It was a real mind-fuck that she’d become some kind of gorgeous talisman I couldn’t shake, but the reality was that she was also a major distraction. Once the season started back up, I wouldn’t be returning to Michigan. I didn’t need an image of her brokenhearted tears once I walked away.

I needed all my focus and attention to be directed at my next Olympic run.

Eyes on the prize.

My singular focus on rugby had been what garnered my success in the first place. No one worked harder than me.

Trouble was, I wasn’t totally convinced it would be her heart that would be broken at the end of it.

* * *

I chose to give her space and shower in the other bathroom while she cleaned herself up for dinner. The team dinner was semicasual, but I’d packed a cozy sweater with two thick, wooden buttons to pair with my dark denim jeans.

I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t rid myself of the simmering anxiety I was carrying around. Maybe it was because the impending game would be a tough one—the Red Rock Reapers were heading into the match undefeated, and my team was still getting its legs. Maybe it was also knowing the team would inevitably jump to conclusions when I showed up with MJ on my arm.

I was waiting for her when she came out of the primary bedroom. Still dressed in the same outfit, MJ had curled her hair and freshened up her makeup.

Her hand still rested on the door handle. “I didn’t have another set of clothes.”

I shook my head. “You’re perfect.”

Her smile bloomed, soft and genuine.

I held out my arm. “Ready?”

“Let me grab my coat,” she said.

I shook my head again. “No need. Nivori is inside the hotel.”

With her hand tucked into the nook of my arm, we left our suite and rode the elevator to the mezzanine level, where the restaurant was located. I gave my name to the host at the stand, and we were escorted through the restaurant to a private dining area. Most of my teammates were already there, laughing and talking over one another.

MJ was shy at my side. I hadn’t introduced her to any of my teammates yet, and when we walked through the door, all eyes shifted their attention to us. Thankfully, Maria cut the tension by standing and eagerly waving us over.

The way she smiled at Maria made my chest feel too tight. She was already weaving her way into the lives of the people around me, and I didn’t know how to stop it—or if I even wanted to.

MJ smiled at me as I pulled out her seat and took the spot next to her.

The lighting was low and moody. Stars twinkled on an inky black sky through the panoramic windows. We were seated at one of two round tables, and another long table stood across from us. The sheer mass of a team of rugby players plus their spouses and guests made the space shrink.

I overheard a young teammate talk about plans for finding a bar or club after dinner. I leaned toward him. “Take it easy tonight. Tomorrow’s a big game. The Reapers won’t be hungover, and neither should you.”

The young fullback stifled an eye roll. “I’ll be fine, old man.”

Old man? The jab stung and I scowled. When did I become the old man of the team? Cocky older brother, sure, but old man ?

I focused my attention on MJ, who was smiling and listening to a story Maria was telling. She didn’t even realize how effortlessly she’d slid into the conversation, laughing at Maria’s jokes and asking thoughtful questions. The team loved her already, and watching her charm them made my chest swell with pride—and dread. Trent had no idea what he’d lost, and the thought of him ever coming close to her made my blood boil.

The waitstaff offered drinks and appetizers—spiced edamame, pan-seared shishito peppers, and Japanese cucumber salad in a soy vinaigrette. Platters of ornate sushi, crispy rice, and thinly sliced Wagyu beef tartare were passed. Thankfully the staff understood the clientele they were serving, because the sheer volume of food consumed was staggering.

An hour flew by as conversations overlapped—stories of brutal injuries, heroic plays, and missed calls. Excitement and anticipation of tomorrow’s game were palpable. I had done my job at the Captain’s Run.

They were ready to kick some ass.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I glanced at it to see Trent’s name flash across the screen. I’d been waiting to connect with him and MJ was still wrapped up in a story, so I stood, brushing my fingertips across her shoulder.

I silently gestured at my phone, and she nodded.

I took a few steps away from the crowd and answered. “About time, man.”

He scoffed. “Don’t bust my balls, Mav.”

It was loud in the confined space, so I left the room in search of a quiet area. The fact that Trent had taken so long to call me back had grated on my nerves.

Was he avoiding me? Had he caught wind that MJ and I had—hell, I didn’t even know what to call it—fooled around?

“What’s up, brother?” Trent asked.

“Just checking in, man. It’s been a while. What’s new?” I asked, trying to gauge the conversation. It was loud wherever he was, and the din of chatter behind me wasn’t helping. I stuffed a finger in my ear and tried to listen.

“Ah, the usual. Kicking ass and taking names. Heard your exhibition season was off to a rough start.” His words were garbled, but I think I got most of it.

Frustrated, I pressed the speaker button on the phone. “Can you hear me?” I asked.

“Yeah, but I’m out,” he shouted.

I rolled my eyes. Trent had called me , but it was nearly impossible to hear him over the background noise.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Do you remember that redhead, Stacy? The one with the huge tits.” He laughed, and it was clear he’d already been drinking. I looked around, glad no one had overheard his crass comment, and slipped into a dark hallway that led to the bathrooms and staff area.

Trent didn’t wait for my response. “Man, she is primed and ready. Desperate , you know what I’m saying?”

When did he forget to grow up? Had he always been like this? I exhaled. “Did you call me just to tell me you’re getting laid?” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

His drunk laugh cracked through the speaker. “No, man. I’m going to be at your match tomorrow. Make sure there’s a ticket for me. Good seats too. Club level for your boy.”

Panic spiked my heart rate. I had been trying to get ahold of my best friend ever since MJ had told me they had dated. He’d hurt her feelings somehow, and the thought of it gnawed at my insides.

I’d assumed MJ would attend tomorrow’s match, but if Trent showed up and surprised her, it would be a complete shit show.

Loyalty to my longest friend warred with the hurt I could imagine in MJ’s eyes. I needed to get to the bottom of it.

“Hey, I think I ran into someone you might know. She works with my grandfather and we got to talking ... MJ King?” My ears buzzed as I waited for Trent’s response. I wanted something—reassurance, I guessed—that while things between them may have ended, MJ was simply holding on to old hurts.

Distorted music thumped through the speaker. “Nah ... doesn’t ring any bells. Why?”

No way any man in his right mind would have dated MJ and not remembered. It simply wasn’t possible. Maybe it was a case of mistaken identity? Could it be his name was bland enough to be a coincidence?

I ignored the headache building behind my eyes. “It’s nothing, I guess. Look, I have to go. The team’s waiting and?—”

“Oh, wait! Fuck yeah, I remember her. The nurse, right?” Lead filled my gut. “I worked for months to get into her pants, but once she finally gave in, she lay there like a scared rabbit.” His dismissive and cruel laugh sent me reeling. “Fucking waste of a virgin pussy, if you ask me.”

The phone shook in my hand. Every muscle in my body tensed, ready to snap. My vision tunneled, the only clear image in my mind was Trent’s smug, drunk face. He’d reduced MJ—my Julep—to some twisted punch line, and I wanted to destroy him for it.

Blood and rage whooshed between my ears. Virgin.

I squeezed the phone and wanted to smash it against the wall. Anger and confusion mixed as I played his cruel words over and over in my mind. Without even saying goodbye, I ended the call and clenched my fist.

When a text came in, I could only stare at it.

Trent

If you get the chance, bang her and report back. Tunnel bros! And don’t forget my ticket.

I gripped the phone so tightly I thought it might snap. Trent’s words looped in my head, each one crueler than the last. How could someone treat her like that? How had I not seen this side of him before?

The walk back to the private dining room was slow and torturous. I finally understood why MJ had gotten so upset when she realized I was friends with Trent. His past conquests had never really been any of my concern, but now it was affecting someone I knew. Someone I was starting to care about.

When I got to the entrance to the room, I stared at her. My teammates were surrounding her, laughing and including MJ in their conversations.

She deserved so much more than Trent’s careless cruelty. Hell, she deserved more than me. But the thought of anyone else having her, of her trusting someone who didn’t see her worth—it twisted something inside me, dark and possessive.

Her hazel eyes lifted and met mine. A shy blush crept across her cheeks, and my throat itched like sandpaper.

The fact Trent couldn’t have cared less about her was only the tip of the iceberg. He’d taken her virginity, and if he’d treated her anything like his past conquests, then when he’d lost interest, he had dropped her like a hot stone.

I barely knew what to do with that information.

As MJ’s laughter floated across the room, I made a silent vow. Whatever it took, I’d make sure Trent stayed the hell away from her. He planned to show up at my match tomorrow, and for the first time I wanted to fucking kill him.