Page 26

CHAPTER 24

SLOANE

E verett had been quiet. Too quiet. He usually checked in on me almost daily, especially when I was in the middle of a job.

But I’d heard nothing.

I’d thought there’d be hell to pay after Logan ruined my appointment with the congressman, but there’d also been nothing since that night.

I could have called him, explained that the congressman had bailed before I’d even gotten there…but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I also hadn’t talked to Logan about the fact that he was still paying for my time. I wasn’t sure how much Everett was charging…but even for a professional athlete, it had to be expensive.

I needed to tell Everett I was done.

But…I was scared.

What if Logan changed his mind? We were moving at the speed of light, and I’d always been extremely skeptical of meteoric rises.

And that’s definitely what this was.

“What do you think about Thai food?” Logan mused, scrolling a menu on his iPad. “Or what about steak?” He grinned. “Although if you want some meat, I already have some for you.”

I scoffed, pushing away my worries about Everett for a later date. “That was uniquely terrible, Mr. York. Even for you.”

“I know you say that…but I don’t think I believe you.” He winked, tangling his fingers in my hair as he brought me in for a kiss?—

“Fuck, where is my best friend, and what have you done to him?”

We jumped at the sudden voice, and Logan groaned as he let me go. “I’m sorry in advance for him,” he told me as I glanced confused at the entryway where a gorgeous dark-haired man was lounging against the wall…eating a sandwich.

“I need to put bells on you,” Logan griped, standing up from the couch and pulling me with him. “Or take away your key.”

“Sounds dangerous. What if I need to borrow your awful clothes, Socks? What will I do then?” His gaze turned to me, and a charming grin slid across his face. “Who do we have here? She can’t be yours, she’s far too pretty.”

Logan snorted.

“Sloane,” Logan said quickly, stepping between us before I could take Asher’s outstretched hand. “This is Asher. My…friend.”

“Best friend. No need to be so modest,” Asher corrected with a wink. “Nice to meet you, Sloane.”

“No winking,” Logan griped. “And no touching.”

Asher’s grin widened at Logan’s behavior. “This is going to be fun.”

“Why are you here again?” Logan asked.

“I wanted to see your pretty face,” Asher replied, dropping onto the couch like he’d been invited as he continued to snack on his sandwich. “Also, I’m coming to your last game. And I wanted dinner. So there’s that.”

Logan growled, batting at his hand as Asher tried to grab the iPad. “Are those my pickles? You know I have a limited amount.”

Asher made a show of taking a huge bite of his sandwich.

“Just for that, I’m going to ask for extra spicy yellow curry. You’ll be shitting all night, and it will serve you right.”

Asher looked at me, grinning like he’d just won an award. “He’s so happy I’m here. Can’t you tell?”

* * *

Dinner was chaos, mostly because Asher was chaos. He’d unpacked the takeout like he hadn’t eaten in weeks, talking a mile a minute while Logan looked like he was reconsidering every life choice that had brought him to this moment.

“So,” Asher said innocently, between bites of his hopefully not spicy curry, “has Logan told you about the time he accidentally glued his hand to his hair?”

I grinned into my water. “No. As a matter of fact, he hasn’t…”

Logan groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Everything he’s about to say is a lie.”

Asher rubbed his hands together…gleefully. “Picture it. Little Logan, about ten years old, with a bottle of superglue and the bright idea to fix his hockey stick. Only the glue he grabbed from his dad’s drawer was some kind of crazy superglue, and he got it all over his hand and then…the idiot decided to push his hair out of his face.”

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh as Logan muttered, “I was a child.”

“It gets better,” Asher continued, undeterred. “My mom had to take him to the ER, and they had to cut the glue off with this tiny scalpel. The whole time, Logan’s sitting there with his hand stuck to his hair, insisting it wasn’t a big deal. They had to cut a huge chunk of it off, and he had a huge bald spot for half of fourth grade.”

I giggled, and Logan shot me a betrayed look as he pushed a hand through his blond hair, like he was making sure there were no bald spots to be found. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, still laughing. “But I’m picturing it, and I can totally see it.”

“Thank you,” Asher said, raising his glass in a mock toast. “But don’t worry, I defended his honor. They stopped making fun of him after I punched John Butkiss right in the nose.”

“First, I don’t think his name was Butkiss . I’m pretty sure that was a made-up name you gave him. And second, that didn’t happen until halfway through fourth grade, because you were the one making fun of me along with everyone else before that.”

“Even then I was worried about you getting too big of a head,” Asher said benevolently as he bowed. “I’ve always taken care of you.” He tapped his chin. “And I really do think that was his name.”

“Really? You’ve always taken care of me?” Logan said dryly. “Was it you taking care of me when you decided to have sex with Claire Mulligan in front of her ex-boyfriend’s locker?”

Asher huffed. “You weren’t even that helpful in that situation. I almost died anyway.”

Logan’s smirk was wide when he turned to me. “Claire’s ex happened to walk in as they were going at it, but he wasn’t actually an ex…and he was maaaad . She got scared, tried to spray the guy with pepper spray, but accidentally got Asher instead. He’s naked, running out of the basketball locker rooms, screaming about water. I find him outside the athletic building, his head in the snow, ass and balls out for all the world to see.”

“So how did you save him?”

“I told him I had extra clothes in the locker room,” Logan said proudly.

“You didn’t go get his clothes for him?” I asked incredulously.

Asher looked like some kind of maniacal clown, his eyes bouncing from the two of us as he slowly raised a fist in the air.

Logan blinked and thought about it. “Huh, maybe I wasn’t that helpful in that situation after all,” he mused.

Asher’s fist made it all the way up. “The truth is finally free,” he yelled. “Now it’s my time to tell embarrassing stories again.”

And he did. Over the next hour, Asher regaled me with story after embarrassing story—like the time Logan fell off a house trying to sneak into a girl’s bedroom or when he accidentally set off the fire alarm at school because he thought it was a light switch.

Logan stoically sat there, only occasionally threatening Asher under his breath. But there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and I got the sense he wasn’t annoyed at all.

I’d never laughed so much or so hard.

We were lounging on the couch when Asher looked at me, smirking. “You probably should keep this one, York. People might want to start hanging out with you for once in your life.”

Logan shook his head, but his face softened as he stared at me. “That’s the plan.”

There was a weighted silence as we gazed at each other.

“ And that’s my cue to go. You’re giving her the look ,” Asher snorted, hopping off the couch.

Logan was giving me the look. And suddenly I was very eager for Asher to leave.

“I’ll see you at the game on Monday. I’m going to see Mama Matthews tomorrow.”

“Do you think you can convince her to make pie?” Logan said eagerly as we stood up and started walking with Asher to the front door.

I realized as we were walking that this was a very girlfriend thing to be doing, walking someone to the door like I lived here too.

I really liked the thought of that.

It also terrified me.

“I’m definitely going to use your name to get the pie, but can I promise you’ll get a taste of it? No. Absolutely not.”

Logan scoffed. “I let you eat my lucky burrito that day!”

“Oh, you mean the one that I stole from your fridge and was almost poisoned by?” Asher spat, raising an eyebrow.

Logan snorted.

I glanced between the two of them, not understanding what they were saying, but amused nevertheless.

“See ya, Socks,” Asher finally said with a little salute before bowing and winking at me. “Sloane, it’s been a pleasure,” he told me with a sexy wink before he ambled out the door and out of sight.

Logan shook his head, a blindingly beautiful smile on his lips as he closed the door and led me into the kitchen. He sat me down on a stool and started getting everything out to make my favorite tea. I watched, as if entranced, as the tattooed god moved around, making my tea just how I liked it before setting it in front of me.

“He liked you,” he commented as I lifted the mug to my nose and inhaled the sweet orange and cloves of the tea.

Perfect.

I blushed, something that had nothing to do with the steam hitting my cheeks. “He did?” I tried to ignore how happy that made me. I shouldn’t care whether his friends liked me or not.

That’s how far this had escalated from being more than a job.

Logan was staring at me like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

I took a sip of the tea, looking everywhere but at him.

“He seems like the kind of guy who likes everyone,” I commented, clearly fishing for more information.

“It comes across that way, but he’s got some major tells. When he doesn’t like someone, he’s got this fake smile he gives them. He’s nice, but he doesn't give them the full Asher charm.” He cocked his head. “He was definitely giving you that,” Logan grumbled, sounding almost…jealous.

“You guys have quite the bromance,” I said wistfully.

“He’s a good guy,” Logan agreed, setting his hands on my shoulders, his touch sending sparks cascading across my skin.

“Why exactly does he call you Socks?” I blurted out, trying to distract him.

A smirk curled my lips at the blush that suddenly rose up on his cheeks. Nothing like seeing a six-foot-four tatted man blushing like a schoolboy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answered, suddenly staring at the ceiling.

I huffed out a laugh. “You should just tell me, get the burning secret off your chest. I know it’s killing you,” I teased.

He crossed his arms across his chest, and I got a little distracted for a second at the sight of his muscles. He was just so fucking…pretty.

“I have no secrets. I’m an open book. Oh look, that’s a cool bird,” he commented, pointing out the window behind me.

Lifting an eyebrow, I pushed a finger into his abs. “You’re not old enough to have developed into an avid bird watcher, York. Give me the deets.”

“Why is it so sexy when you last-name me?” he groaned, reaching out and pulling me from the chair and into his chest as he pressed a kiss against the side of my neck. “And is that something I have to look forward to in our old age—bird watching?”

I tried to keep my head on straight as his lips moved down my skin. But it was freaking difficult. He was way too good at this.

“Socks,” I gasped, pushing against his chest. “I want to hear about socks.”

He growled and bit down gently on my shoulder before pressing his forehead against my skin. I had the insane urge to cry. This was intimacy, wasn’t it? This was what it felt like to be close to someone, to feel their soul and not just their body when they held you.

I wanted to push him away. The closeness would just make me weak, and life had never gone well for me when I was weak.

Maybe just a second more, though…a second more of him holding me like I was worth something.

“In high school I got black-out drunk and then somehow ended up walking around a party with nothing but a sock on.”

I giggled, and he lifted his head to smirk at me. “You think that’s funny, do you?”

“I mean, I hate the thought of everyone seeing your perfect dick, but it is a funny visual,” I snorted.

His grin widened. “Oh, the sock wasn’t on my foot…” He winked as my jaw dropped.

And that did it for me. Just imagining him walking around with a sock hanging off his dick was too much. I laughed hysterically as he smiled down at me with a sort of dazed look in his eye.

“I love that,” he murmured, gently pushing a piece of hair out of my face.

My laugh abruptly stopped as I blinked up at him, a warmth sliding down my skin. “What do you love?”

He stared at me knowingly, and my hands slid to his chest like they’d been possessed. I could feel the words he wanted to say like they were a tangible thing. Suddenly I was panicking, my heart racing, my fingers curling into his shirt as if I could ward them off.

“The sound of your laugh,” he finally said gruffly, and a sliver of relief slid down my spine.

Along with a hint of disappointment. But I wasn’t going to think about that.

“I hope someone got pics,” I mumbled, trying to break whatever spell he seemed to be always casting over me.

“If they exist, I’m never showing you them.”

I huffed out another laugh, which instantly turned into a sigh when he pulled me farther into his arms, so that my head was resting against his firm, muscled chest.

His heart was racing too.

I blinked as I struggled not to tear up…again.

“Whatever you say, Socks ,” I whispered as his hands stroked down my back.

Every day I was letting this thing between us grow. Rapid heartbeats and sweaty palms.

And feelings.

“How about now, Red? You fall in love with me yet?” he asked.

I squeezed him tight, and like usual, he chuckled at my inability to respond to him.

Although I was pretty sure he knew the answer to that question already.

I should pull away right now. I should leave and run for the hills.

But, of course, I didn’t do that. Instead, I nestled into his chest and soaked in his touch like a dying flower soaking up the last drops of rain.

One more minute, I told myself…

Just one more.