Three Simple Rules (Blindfold Club 1)

I sat up, concern flooding my body. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to you, I’m kind of freaking out. And I’m coming over.”

“Okay, but what’s happened? Are you all right?”

She paused, which only made my worry grow. “I’m okay. Well, no, not really. I’m gonna grab some coffee and then I’m headed your way.”

Logan was out cold, deep in a NyQuil coma. My fiancé had been fighting a cold for at least two days, refusing to admit defeat until last night. As we were getting ready to go out for drinks with our friends, he’d curled up under the covers, shivering. We ended up canceling, and I spent the night in bed, reading his iPad while he snored and coughed beside me. He looked better this morning. Also, he looked like he might sleep another four hours, which was good. Whatever was going on with Payton sounded serious.

The entire time I was in the shower I was worrying about her, and then a knot formed in my stomach. Oh, god, was she pregnant? She was careful in her personal life, and it was required at the club, but accidents did happen.

My shower was brief. I’d learned pretty soon after moving in with Logan that showering in the big glass enclosure by myself was a great way to end up cold. No wonder he always had the water so hot. I pulled my bin of cosmetics and hair stuff out from beneath the sink and dug out a ponytail holder, wrapped my wet hair back into a bun, and stored the bin away. I’d only moved in a week ago and was determined to keep my sloppiness to a minimum. I padded out into the kitchen and sat at the breakfast bar, staring out at the gorgeous view I’d never get used to.

I’d never get used to him, either, and didn’t want to. I couldn’t get enough of him. Ironically, I saw less of Logan at the office, but now that the cat was out of the bag and I was reporting to Kathleen, things improved everywhere else. Logan and I got ready in the mornings together, commuted together. We ate lunch out in the

open when his schedule allowed it, and at the end of the day we came home together.

Jamie was instantly my new best friend when she saw me sporting the rock on my hand. Custom designed by Logan, of course. I think she wanted to swing an invite to the wedding, or possibly help me plan it. She’d been dropping some not-so-subtle hints like talking about how she’d planned her sister’s wedding. Even when Kathleen promoted me to Senior Designer over her, Jamie took it in stride.

At six-fifteen there was a sharp, single knock on the door, jarring me from my thoughts.

Payton came in like a blur, dropping a tray of coffee cups on the counter. Was all that coffee for her? Or had she been so freaked out she’d forgotten I didn’t drink the stuff? When I pull an all-nighter I look like death warmed over, but of course, not her. Her hair looked perfectly messy and tousled, and her makeup smudged to give her sexy, smoky eyes like a magazine ad. I could tell she hadn’t slept, though.

“Are you pregnant?” That was the greeting I gave her.

“What? No.” She yanked her coffee out of the tray with too much force and sent coffee slinging everywhere. She was vibrating with nervous, chaotic energy, and witnessing her like that was scary.

“What’s wrong?”

“I got let go from the club.” Her face was white. “I mean, I got fired.”

I froze with the paper towel in my hand, ready to clean up the coffee. “What?”

Her face fell into her hands. “What am I going to do?”

“Again, what? What happened?”

“This is all his fault, you know. He shouldn’t have said a damn thing.” She paced a circle in the living room. “Fuck, it was so much money.”

“Could you be more cryptic? Who are we talking about?”

She pulled to a stop and glared at me like I should know. “We’re talking about the guy who got me fired; the one who fucked up my life.”

“Your life?” I said, dubious. “You like what you do there, but, come on. That place is not your life.” Did she think that was rich coming from me, given what I’d done to keep my job?

“Ugh, no, I’m not talking about the club.” She set her coffee down that had been nothing more than a prop to occupy her busy hands. “Look at me, I’m a fucking mess. He owes me at least an apology. He should have warned me.”

“Jesus, Payton, who?”

Her gaze hardened. “Logan.”

What? “Logan got you fired? How?”

“Because of what he did last night.”

She was making absolutely no sense. “Last night–? He was sick, and he was here with me.”

“Yeah,” she snapped. “I’m aware.”