Chapter 16

Evie

A staff member guides me from the club doors up the stairs, and into the VIP section. Nerves tighten my stomach, but I can't pay attention to that when Logan comes to greet me.

The staff person opens the velvet rope for me, but my eyes are on the quarterback. I have never seen him dressed like this, at least not in person. He wears bespoke trousers in what seems like a mossy green color and a matte, black shirt that fits him like a glove. The cut of his clothes highlights the triangle of his shape, with wide shoulders and narrow hips, and they make him look taller than ever.

The last part is the only thing I had prepared for, choosing my one pair of stilettos for the night. Still, when he stands next to me, I have to look up at him. I'm a tall woman, but he's tall .

"Thanks for coming," he says.

We banter enough that I'm surprised at his politeness, and I retaliate.

"This is my one cocktail dress, Logan. A little black something that works for everything. I never get to wear it. Didn't get to dry clean it before the evening, either, so if it's musty it's your fault."

If his hyperosmia makes him suffer, that's on him.

Humor sparks in his eyes. He takes me by the arm and leads me to the side. The staff member closes the rope behind themselves, and we're alone several steps away from the group. We can still hear the music loud and clear, but it's not so loud that we couldn't keep a quiet conversation if we wanted to.

Disrupting all protocols and without any warning, Logan dips his head to the general vicinity of my neck— and takes a long, deep breath in. The inhale is strong enough to change the air pressure balance of the space around us and, just like the skies give birth to wind, his inspiration creates a breeze that blows through the tiny hairs of my skin.

"What—" I start, but a shiver interrupts my words.

It runs all the way from my nape to my feet. My toes curl in my heels.

What the fuck kind of witchcraft is this?

"You smell great," he whispers.

It's dangerous wizardry, is what it is.

I push him back and hiss a warning only for him to hear. "Don't do that here!"

"Why? You were worried. I put your mind at ease. You're welcome."

"What a start to the evening, Your Highness." I tsk and shake my head.

I have to fist my hands to hide the way my fingers tremble. There's nothing I can do about the drumming in my chest.

He snorts, before he leads me to the group, where I say hi to everyone.

"Can't believe you finally came out to meet us." Saint smiles at me, only one of his dimples visible. The other is being kissed by one of his two companions.

Dom gazes at me as well, his arm around a beautiful redhead next to him. "Thank you so much for helping me win one of my bets, Miss Moreno."

"What bet?" I ask.

"That this would be the year we convince you to join us at the club," Dom replies.

A flutter skips over my stomach. The guys have asked me to join them before, and I've resisted each time. Spending time with them outside of TD complicates things, if they might end up needing more from me. All I've known is that to care for people means jumping to their rescue and, until I figure out how to stop myself, I can't afford the risk.

I sit on the green velvet of the couch, closer to Damián's group than to the two players getting busy in the shadows of the VIP section.

I smirk. "Does it count if I'm here for work? I'm thinking I may expense it."

"You're not expensing it," Logan says.

I keep my eyes on Dom. Logan's statement does nothing to help me create some much-needed distance between the guys and me.

"It counts." Dom grins. "And now I'm in first place on the B-Hypercubed board. Your first drink is on me."

"Everyone's drinks are on me tonight," Logan insists.

He sits next to me, and we join Damián, Nat, Leon, and Pen. Saint and Dom go back to their dates, and I leave them to it without a second thought.

Damián leans over. "Funny that Logan was the one to convince you."

I shrug. "Like I said, this is work."

Logan arches an eyebrow my way. "Admit that you like me better than the rest."

His tone is dry. One could easily take it seriously or as a joke. People around laugh, so it's clear how they're taking it, but Logan and I like to prod and poke.

I answer as if I believed him. "I don't! You're just my biggest challenge."

"It's not all suffering." The corner of his lips turn south. "You have fun in this game we play."

"What game?"

I tell myself I'm teasing. Then I tell myself that it's a genuine question. Until he leans close to me and my thoughts stop altogether.

We lock eyes, and I hold my breath in waiting.

It's like he wants me to see him clearly. I happen to know, he tries to see me clearly, too .

"You know the game," he says. "The same one where you pretend not to enjoy the way we banter."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I reply.

He leans back and gazes at the group. They all study us with varying degrees of smirks and attention.

Logan purses his lips. "Next, I'll get you to come to see us at the stadium."

"She's never come to see us play that we know of," Damián says. "We've tried."

I shake my head, unconcerned. "Doesn't mean I haven't been."

"It doesn't count if no one knows," Logan insists.

"Is this a bet, King?" Leon asks. "That's what I call team spirit."

"It can't be a bet," I argue.

"It doesn't have to be on the Hypersquared," Logan says. "I'm just calling it a challenge."

I frown at him. "You are way too confident, Logan."

"It's part of the game we have." He smirks, but a playful gleam shines in his eyes.

It gives me butterflies.

I can't accept them, so I stare at the rest of the group.

"Do you know what game he's talking about?" I ask.

"I don't know, but I'm having fun watching." Nat smiles, her lavender hair taking on an intense shade of purple in the club lights.

"If you're not aware of a game, Evie," Bear challenges, "then how is this work?"

I can't be the one revealing the deal Logan and I have. I turn to him with a raised eyebrow, daring him to come clean.

He frowns. "You may have noticed that I can come across as…"

"Serious?" Pen says.

"Severe?" Damián adds.

Nat smiles. "Grumpy?"

"Reserved," Logan says before other people can interject further .

His eyebrows pull down lower in response to the comments. It's one of the frowns I used to think were killer, and now only seem like sharp focus to me. The other people in the group don't seem put off by it. They smirk or hold back a smile, and find humor in it the same way I do.

Logan purses his lips. "Miss Moreno is helping me be more… forthcoming with people."

"I still don't see how this is about work?" Pen asks.

"Let's say I got in trouble with the boss," Logan explains. "Evie and I have meetings about it. She makes videos for social media, and comes to me at the club when I ask very nicely."

"I've seen the videos," Pen says with a knowing smile. "They're very popular."

"Have you read the comments?" Nat asks Pen. "People are wondering who is behind the videos. Now we know."

I have seen the comments. A group of fans have romanticized the videos. Assumed that whoever runs the account is in love with the quarterback. At this point I've decided to ignore the comments, and I would rather other players don't go looking.

I don't know if Logan has gone looking yet, or what he'll do about it.

"In any case," I interrupt before anyone gets any ideas, "we should go, Logan."

"You haven't had a drink." His frown turns unhappy.

I didn't have a drink on purpose. He said he would pay for me, then offered to pay for the group, and I'm not sure how I feel about any of that.

Suspicious. That's how I feel.

I came because if I told Logan that PR had a say in his personal life, and I'm in charge of his PR, I should own up to it and show up. I didn't come here to let him be the first person in a decade to buy drinks for me, or treat me to anything else.

My speech is prepared to redirect the topic again .

"And before you get any ideas," I say to the group, "I'm leaving with Logan because of work, too. To help his PR with the hoards waiting outside. But I wasn't ready to come out tonight, and I have to work extra early tomorrow."

It's the perfect excuse because it's true. Tuesdays are the team's day off, and they could party for who knows how long.

Logan stands when I do. We ask the staff to coordinate with his driver. When we're told the car is ready, we say goodbye and step out of the VIP section. The stairs have a landing midway, and we stop there.

"What's the plan?" Logan asks.

The music is louder here. I go up to the top of my feet to talk to his ear. I'm forced to place a hand on his chest to keep my balance.

"We go straight out," I say. "We walk close enough to look friendly, but I'll open the car's door to disappear as fast as possible. You can either nod at people out there or ignore them completely, with me there they won't expect you to stop. That's it."

"Mhh." It's an unhappy sound.

"Ready?"

He nods and we go to the first floor, where a few fans wave at him. He waves back, but puts a hand on my lower back and we go out.

Flashes explode. A few people scream, others ask questions.

"Are you hoping for the Super Bowl, Logan?"

"Who is she?"

"What does your father have to say about this season?"

Logan puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer. I gaze at the floor, not to be stunned with the flashes. We're only a few steps away from the black SUV.

People continue to try to get his attention.

"Can we take a picture?"

"What happens if you don't make it to the playoffs? "

Logan opens the door for me and I climb in, without much time to question how he didn't follow my instructions too closely.

He sits next to me, the door shut again behind him. The driver starts the journey soon after.

"That went well enough," I say.

"Mmh. I still hate it. How soon until I can stop?"

"Three seasons. Tops. Then you can pull back a lot."

He stares out to the streets flying by. Most of his face is hidden from me, but I'm learning the lines of his profile well. His mood is somber again, and his frown deep.

"You're doing great, Logan. You'll see. It's going to be worth it. You're getting something out of it even now, aren't you? By getting better at media, you're also getting better at talking about yourself and opening up. I can see the guys like you."

All he does is nod once. I don't take offense. He's deep in thought, and I'm happy to let him process whatever he's working through.

We make it to my place a short time later. There is a deli at the bottom of my building. The neon sign on the glass shines in blues, reds, and violets to let everyone know they're still open.

The driver gets out and comes to my door.

"All right." I hold my bag tight and get ready to get out of the car. "Good night, Logan."

I push against the seat with my free hand. I'm halfway out when he stops me. His large palm is warm on top of mine, between us.

His serious eyes take a gorgeous shade of purple as he gazes at me. Fucking royal purple eyes.

"Thanks, Evie."

The words come out solemn, my name weighty. Unlike when he greeted me at the club, this time I believe him .

It wreaks havoc inside. My stomach is doing cartwheels for some reason, and my heart rate shoots through the roof.

He's not supposed to be earnest. He should be following the rules, and be grumpy and sarcastic so I know where the lines are. So we both remember this is work only . A friendliness between us at the most, like I have with the rest of the team.

This doesn't feel like general friendliness.

I'm breathless.

But the driver is waiting for me, and I can't sit and figure it out when Logan is studying me with keen eyes. The hairs in my skin perk up, because I know that if I tried to put the puzzle together now, he would read my mind.

I gulp. I nod. I pretend all is good, and get out of the car.

He doesn't stop me this time.

It's not until later when I lay awake in my bed, that I realize that if I wanted him to follow the rules, it's because a part of me understands this is a game, after all.