Page 65 of The Player Next Door
Chapter Thirty-one
Kiki settled more comfortably in Clare’s lap while Logan and Sam bickered about something to do with a coach. Mostly through osmosis Clare had learned that the NBA finals were happening, which was a big deal. The Timberwolves hadn’t made it this year, she gathered, and a source of conflict between Logan and Sam was which team they were going to root for now. Logan went with the Lakers, since they used to be a Minnesota team, but Sam felt that leaving the Twin Cities for Los Angeles was an unforgivable betrayal, and thus was rooting for the Miami Heat. Clare was a little unclear as to why Sam had chosen the Heat, but it appeared Logan felt her reasoning was flawed.
“Their defense has been abysmal, you have to admit that,” Logan argued. Kiki shook her head, tags tinkling softly, and rested her chin on Clare’s knee.
“No, I do not have to admit that at all,” Sam protested.
Clare scratched Kiki between the ears and held up her phone. “Hey, I just looked it up and it appears the Lakers left Minnesota in 1960. Is there a reason we’re fighting about something that happened before our parents were even born?”
“It’s the principle of the thing,” Sam said vehemently. “They left; ergo, they are traitors and I will never support them. Also, my dad was born in ’58, so suck it.” That took them off on an argument about the validity of teams leaving various cities and states, although it seemed they were mostly angrily agreeing with each other that the SuperSonics never should have left Seattle.
The fight had been going on for what felt like ten minutes, and Clare decided to chuck a grenade onto the floor. That wasn’t her usual approach, but she sort of liked watching them fight like angry cats. Clare glanced down at her phone and the new article she had just pulled up on playoff contenders. “What about the Milwaukee Bucks? Can’t we root for them? Midwestern solidarity, and all that?”
“Don’t be gross,” Logan said sternly, while Sam made a face at her.
“Hey, at least she didn’t suggest the Bulls,” Sam said, and then they were off on a tangent about the playoffs two years ago and a bet that Logan may or may not have made on the Bulls’ chances. Clare didn’t follow half of it, but she did find it immensely entertaining to watch. This was a different side of Logan, not quite the brash charmer she first met in the elevator, but not the soft, sweet man she saw at his father’s house, either. He was sharper with Sam than she’d seen him with anyone, but in a way that told her he was giving Sam exactly what she needed from him.
Clare had never considered that Logan was simply a people pleaser at heart. He had a way of figuring out exactly what people needed from him and becoming that person. Burt needed a supportive son, Sam needed a sparring partner who wouldn’t flinch from her barbs, and Clare needed someone to gently push her out of her comfort zone. Logan had been able to read her Quest group, too, easily adapting to their humor and embracing the dorky vibe.
He was a chameleon, with an especially sensitive antennae for people’s needs, down to noticing when Clare had gotten uncomfortable with Annie’s characterization of Craig. Clare was still a little pissed at Annie for that, quite frankly. She knew Annie had her best interests at heart, but like Sam, Annie could be a bit of a dick. And the way she described Craig was unfair—it sounded accurate, but it wasn’t. Craig was better than Annie had made him out to be, even if her criticisms had a ring of truth to them that Clare didn’t appreciate.
Clare was very relieved she hadn’t told the girls about Craig’s suggestion regarding her sex life, since that would have sent Annie into one of her patentedgo to HRchants. She was usually right, but this happened to be a time when she was wrong. Clare was sheltered, and not willing to take enough risks, and when writing a game that was at its core about adventure, that wasn’t the best fit. Without Craig’s pushes, Clare might never have gone for it with Logan. Hearing Annie put Craig’s habits in such blunt terms while sitting next to Logan had been unpleasant to say the least.
On the TV, the players arranged themselves on the court and the game officially began. Sam and Logan put a pin in their argument and both eyes turned to fixate on the players. Clare had watched a little bit of a game with Logan in the hospital, but this was the first time she could remember that she had sat down with the intention to watch an entire game of any type of sport, start to finish.
The game was both faster paced than she expected and slower, with a surprising amount of commercial breaks that allowed Sam and Logan to resume their bickering as if they had never stopped. And while Clare would probably never be into a game that had winners and losers—what she loved about Quest was that there wasn’t a way to win or lose, and the best parts were collaborative—she did like seeing Logan so enthusiastic about something. His team made a three-point shot that was apparently quite tricky and he jumped off the couch with a whoop of joy. The smile on his face was so pure Clare couldn’t help but smile too.
She took Kiki out for a walk at the start of halftime, and when she came back up Kiki trotted straight to Sam and settled next to her for a belly rub. “Hello, sweetie,” Sam said in a tiny baby voice. “Did you have a nice walk?”
Logan sat down next to Clare with his arm draped across the back of the couch. “Kiki is how we first met,” he said, almost wistfully.
“Really? I just assumed he picked you up on Tinder,” Sam said to Clare.
Logan shook his head. “Clare’s classier than you and me,” he replied.
“I don’t know if I’d say that,” Clare interjected. “We did, uh, hook up after getting stuck in the elevator.”
“Oh my god, Logan, you havegotto chain up that libido of yours,” Sam said, grinning.
“Still,” Logan said dismissively. “You’re different from me and Sam. You said yourself I was the exception to the rule.”
“Yeah, but—”
“That’s all I mean,” he said, and shot her a grin that left her weak in the knees. Sometimes she wished Logan wouldn’t be so insistent that they were fundamentally different, but at the same time, sometimes it felt good to be on his pedestal.
No, she’d made the right decision in not mentioning the Craig situation. She just wished she felt a little better about it.
The only thing better than hanging out with Logan was sex with Logan, in Clare’s opinion. The blahs of their first encounter had faded to almost nothing, replaced by the spine-tingling memories of every subsequent bout. If it weren’t for needing the occasional change of clothes, Clare wouldn’t have even seen the inside of her apartment for the entire weekend.
Logan trailed his fingers down her shoulder, leaving a line of goosebumps in his wake. He had a habit of touching her after sex, she’d noticed, like he needed to keep contact with her or else she’d vanish. “That dinner with the client,” he said, fingertips still tracking up and down over her skin. “Does next Thursday work?”
“This is the one where I show some guy that you’re a responsible adult and not at all someone who sleeps around, right?”
“That one. It’s going to be boring, though. Mind-numbingly boring. You’ll hate every second of it.”
“You’re selling this very well,” Clare said, biting back a grin.
“Good, that’s how it was supposed to come across,” he volleyed back. “But seriously, it’ll be boring and I want to be upfront about that, but—could you make it? Next Thursday?”