Page 13 of The Player Next Door

“Yes,” Clare deadpanned, and they both burst into laughter again. Maybe it was for the best that the sex was only so-so, she thought, because if it had been good she would have been in a lot of trouble. Logan was a genuinely fun person to be around, in addition to looking like a prince who had gone undercover to escape the pressures of royal life. If that had been combined with mind-blowing sex, she probably would have gone and fallen in love with him.

This way, she could tell Craig she understood Captain Ellis Ravencroft well enough to write her, and maybe she and Logan could stay on good terms. Chats in the elevator, jokes in the lobby, that sort of thing. But first, she needed to figure out a way to get him out of her bed, because sleeping over seemed against the whole spirit of a quickie hookup.

Logan yawned and she fought the urge to reach out and brush his dark hair off his forehead. They were flirting, sure, but that felt a little too tender for the moment. And she was supposed to be figuring out a way to kick him out. “You tired there, old sport?”

Okay, maybe not the best start at getting him to leave.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Who you calling old?” he replied playfully.Okay, soGreat Gatsbyreferences go over his head. Got it, she thought, and then he yawned again. “But yeah, I am, actually,” he said.

Clare hesitated. It was as good of an opening as she was going to get. “It is a real long walk back to your place,” she said, hoping her dry tone softened the message.

“Too long,” he said, either not picking up on her subtlety or ignoring it.Not picking it up, she decided. “Are you . . . staying?” she asked.

If she was going to start having one-night stands, she was going to have to get better at this part. Logan opened his eyes and studied her for a long moment. “Yeah, I think—I think that would be nice,” he said.

Oh.He wanted to stay, and with every passing second she was losing any will to make him leave. Her eyes drank in the planes of his cheekbones, the faint stubble on his cheeks.

Fuck it.It still counted, even if there was a sleepover after. “G’night, neighbor,” she said as playfully as possible.

Logan closed his eyes, a soft smile on his face. “Night, Clare,” he whispered.

The next morning, Clare woke up before Logan. He was still on the other side of the bed, facing her. The only difference was his hand, which was now lying outstretched on her pillow, almost like he had been reaching for her. She gave herself a moment to study him, taking in the way sunlight painted the sharp planes of his face and softened them. When he was awake there was a sardonic edge to everything he did or said, but asleep he looked . . . not younger, exactly, but more vulnerable.

Clare brought that train of thought to a screeching halt and decided to get up. She had to keep this casual, and her usual instincts were rearing their heads.

She eased out from under the covers and dressed quickly, being sure to leave Logan’s clothes on the floor, as that would only delay his sure-to-be-hasty exit. She hesitated with herZutara Foreverhoodie in her hand, and then remembered that a) he’d already seen her in her dorky-ass sweatshirt, and b) he’d already slept with her. No point in trying to pretend she was someone she wasn’t.

Out in her kitchen, she felt better. It was her safe space, the place where baking replaced work stress with a peaceful vibe, like waves on a shore. When she was baking, she didn’t have time to ruminate over how frustrated she was at work, or that there was an exceedingly handsome, naked man in her bed and she didn’t know what to do about that. She really should have told him to leave last night, rather than letting him stay. In the cold light of day, she wondered if maybe he had stayed out of pity.

For the second time that morning she shook her head and forced herself to stop thinking that way. She started pulling out the necessary ingredients for blueberry muffins, and got the oven preheating. Muffins didn’t take too long to make, so they’d either be almost ready by the time he got up or she’d have extra blueberry muffins for game day. The group wouldn’t complain about that, at least.

The rhythms of baking—measuring, pouring, mixing—settled her down, and she had just slid the trays into the oven when Logan walked out of her bedroom.

Shirtless.

Thankfully, she could pretend it was the heat from the oven making her blush. “Morning, neighbor,” he said easily, like this was a totally normal thing.

Well, for him it probably was.

She narrowed her eyes at him even as a smile threatened her face. “Are you calling me that because you forgot my name?”

Logan chuckled and rolled his eyes, sliding onto a stool at her kitchen counter like he wasn’t wearing jeans designed by the devil himself, and nothing else. “No, I haven’t,Clare,” he said pointedly. “What’s for breakfast?”

“What gave you the impression it’s for you?” she teased.Please don’t stay for breakfast; just let this be what it was and go.She had been counting on Logan’s natural instincts to be to run, and now that they weren’t, she was not mentally prepared to ask him to go.

“Probably the fact that we had sex last night,” he said nonchalantly.

Clare laughed and checked her phone when it buzzed on the counter.Oh right, Kiki, she thought. She’d forgotten what day it was, but this was a perfect excuse. He wouldn’t want to have to meet her aunt. “Just a heads-up, my aunt is bringing Kiki over now,” she said.

“Are you kicking me out? Without even any—” he sniffed the air, “—blueberry scones?”

“Close, muffins. And I didn’t mean—it’s just, a year ago she walked in and my ex—well, he wasn’t my ex then, he was my boyfriend, but he’s my exnow—was here, and he was only in his boxers and—”

Logan had slipped off the stool as she rambled and approached her, silencing her with a gentle finger to her lips. “And you’d appreciate it if I’d go put a shirt on?”

Honestly, she’d rather he never wear a shirt ever again, especially now that he was standing close enough that she could feel the heat pouring off his body, but really the best option was for him to leave. Aunt Peggy might be the coolest aunt around, but she did have some limits. She could probably handle walking into a morning-after situation, since she understood Clare was most likely not a virgin. But he should at least be dressed, especially if Logan was so determined to stay.

Clare sighed, giving in. She didn’t really want him to leave anyway. “Yeah, I think that’d be for the best. And she doesn’t live too far away, so maybe now?”