Page 39 of The Player Next Door
“That sounds fake.”
He sat down, sighing. “There’s not really a not-conceited way to say this, but women—and some men—um, they have a certain reaction to me.”
“They give you things,” Clare filled in.
“They give me things,” he confirmed. “It’s, you know,” he said, gesturing at his face and then his torso, “this.”
Clare snorted and the tension in the room shattered. She took pity on him, as his ears were burning, and changed the subject. “Who were you texting just now?”
Okay, maybe not that much pity.
“Sam. We were supposed to watch a game together, but I bailed. Don’t worry about it, she’s fine.”
“She wasn’t mad that you stood her up?”
“Honestly, yes, she was, but it’s whatever. It’s Sam.”
“She’s fine now?”
“She’ll get over it,” he clarified. “She’s always, like, fifteen minutes late to anything we plan anyway. Considering how long I’ve known her, I’ve probably spent two whole days waiting for her procrastinating ass. I’ve earned a freebie.” There was a note of fond annoyance as he talked about Sam that always made Clare want to smile.
Logan held up the nail polish. “Did you want to use this? I can go give it back to Jamie, if you don’t.”
Clare almost never painted her fingernails, although not for any real reason. She liked dressing up and being cute, but nail polish was just one extra thing she never really got into. But the color was a pretty turquoise and Logan seemed to want to hang around, so she nodded. “Sure, why not. Not sure I can bend to reach my feet, though.”
Logan cracked open the top. “I’ll do it,” he offered.
“Have you ever done someone’s nails before?”
“How hard can it be? It’s like painting a very tiny wall.”
“The difficulty is in the tininess, not the skill level.”
“Whatever, I’ve got this,” he said, deftly flipping up the blanket and carefully sliding off the grey, fluffy socks they had given her before surgery. He picked up her left foot delicately, lifting it slightly closer to him.
Clare bit back the sharp inhale she wanted to take. Even post-op, full of painkillers that dulled her senses to a grey, formless blob, his light touch sent sparks across her skin. A tiny, cool brushstroke tickled her cuticle, and she made herself tease him instead. “Oops, looks like you already screwed up,” she said.
He looked up at her, eyes dark, and she realized she had made a grave miscalculation. Now, he wasn’t just holding her foot, he was holding her foot and gazing at her and all she wanted to do was kiss him. But she had been dry-heaving in his car just a few hours ago, and she was currently in a hospital gown that resembled a tent. Meanwhile, Logan looked like he was auditioning for the role of McDreamy’s younger, hotter brother. He would be a perfect character on one of those shows, breaking hearts and saving lives, and—
“Clare?” he said, with a slight air of impatience.
“Hmm?”
“I said, since you’re here overnight, did you want me to run back to your place and get you anything? Or I could call a friend; have them do it.”
“Peggy is the only one with a key, but she’s at her friend’s cabin this weekend with Kiki. But I could call Devi, and she would meet you there and bring it here for me, I’m sure.”
“I assume Devi was thestuck at workportion of your friends?”
“She’s a reference librarian at the U. Pulled the evening shift this week, which sucks. She’s done by eight-ish, and she’s usually so exhausted she goes straight to bed when she gets home.”
“So probably not awake this late.”
“No, she’s asleep for sure, but she’d understand. If you wanted to get going, you can. I’m seriously fine, you don’t need to babysit me if you don’t want to. I’m sure you’d rather be home.”
Logan lowered his gaze to her foot, moving to her next toe as he delicately skimmed the brush down her nail. “Who said anything about me wanting to go? I just thought you might be more comfortable with a friend here.”
“Aren’t you a friend?” The words were out of her mouth before she could second-guess them.