Page 43 of Logan

I prepare chicken in sauce, slide it into the oven, and then return to the sofa to wait for her.

“Logan?”

“Logan?”

The soft voice rings in my ears, and I blink groggily.

Fuck.

I fell asleep. How the hell did I fall asleep in the middle of the day? I sit up and rub my face. Not only that, but she got into the apartment without waking me.

“Are you okay?” Sloane is still standing next to me, concern etched on her face. “Is your head hurting again?”

“No. How long have you been standing there?” I ask, my voice rough with sleep.

“I just got here. Do you think I’m a stalker who watches you sleep?” She arches an eyebrow.

I twist my mouth. Apparently, I just keep insulting her.

“There’s something in the oven, and I think it might be burning.”

“Shit!” I jump up from the couch and rush to the kitchen. How long was I asleep? I quickly open the oven. The chicken is a bit browner than it should be, but it’s not burned. Luckily. I take it out and set it on the table.

“It’s okay, just a little overcooked. Do you want to join me?” I ask, gesturing to the food.

She shakes her head. “After what happened at the restaurant? I don’t think so.”

I lick my lips. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

She remains silent, her arms crossed over her chest.

“You’re still angry. What can I do besides promise it won’t happen again?” I try, hoping she’ll give me a chance to make amends.

“You humiliated me, and I think you’re playing with me,” she snaps, her eyes flashing.

“I’m not playing with you, and I definitely didn’tintend to humiliate you.” I pull out my black Amex and hold it out to her. “Here, take this.”

She takes the card and studies it closely. “Is this your credit card?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you giving it to me?”

“I want to apologize again for what happened at the restaurant. I shouldn’t have touched you or spoken to you that way. You’re my employee, and I crossed a line. I thought maybe you could go buy yourself something. Whatever you want,” I explain, hoping she’ll accept the peace offering.

She narrows her eyes. “Did you hit your head?”

“No. Why?”

“Because you’ve started acting like you don’t have a brain.” She throws the card back at me, and it falls to the floor.

I don’t bend down to pick it up.

“Do you think you can buy me? Are you back to thinking I’m a whore?” she demands, her voice rising with each word.

“What? No, of course not.” I hold my hands up between us, taken aback by her anger.

“I have a job and a salary. I don’t want your money. Even though technically the salary is from you...” She rubs her chin. “Shit, that argument doesn’t work as well when it’s your boss, but I’m still not interested.”