Logan (Filthy Rich Alphas)

Well, too bad. If you’re the Ashley in Tyson’s notebook, then we need to talk soon.

I tried not to think about her betrayal anymore, grabbed my keys, and headed out the door.

I spotted Tyson far across the street, still on the phone, but now pacing and yelling into it.

Wrong number, my behind.

Logan sat in his Bugatti, staring at Tyson with concern on his face.

I decided not to say goodbye to Tyson, hopped in Logan’s car, and set my handbag on the floor, stuffed with all of Tyson’s notebooks.

I wouldn’t only be reading the Kingmaker this evening. I planned to learn about the real Tyson, not the fake one he’d been presenting to me the last three months.

“Ashley lets me do anything to her.”

Logan didn’t start the car. Instead, he gestured to Tyson. “Who’s he talking to?”

“I have no idea.” I grabbed the coffee from the holder on my door. “Thank you for breakfast.”

Logan drank me in with those gorgeous blue eyes, letting his gaze slip all over me. His smile deepened.

Why must he be so damn good-looking?

Soothing ocean blue eyes—not icy or cold, but welcoming. So damn welcoming. He studied me with a heated gaze, inciting warmth along my cheeks.

“You look amazing today.” His voice was deep, husky, and sexy as fuck if I let myself swim in its soothing rhythm. “Has anyone told you how beautiful you look today?”

I held back my grin. “Stop flirting.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I know. It’s just your natural state.”

He stared at my shirt. My nipples hardened, but in my defense his air conditioner was on full blast and...damn it. No woman could not get aroused from Logan’s attention.

“You should probably change,” he studied my top. “I’ll have to fight all the geeky boys away from you today.”

“You like it? I made this myself.” I had cut scenes from other Kingmaker shirts and taken weeks hand-sewing them into a jean halter top. It didn’t push my breasts up in my face or ooze too much sex, but it showed off my arms and was a cool way to display my love for Mulligan.

“That top is everything. The only improvement would be no pants.”

I quirked my eyebrows. “What?”

“I mean...you would...wear shorts or something.”

“Shorts or something?” I grinned.

“Ignore me.” He glanced over his shoulder at Tyson, still pacing and arguing on the phone.

“Is he coming with us?” Logan asked and turned back to me.

“No.” The lightness in my mood left. “He’s staying.”

A wicked smile appeared on his face. “So, I have you all to myself this morning?”

Warmth spread all over me.

Logan loved being naughty, but he always respected my relationship with Tyson.

I waved Logan’s flirty comment away. “I thought we were in a hurry. Why are we not speeding to the store?”

“You’re right.”

And then we zoomed off.

“Damn.” I hurried and put on my seatbelt. “Can you stick with the speed limit?”

“They said on the radio that three stores have already sold out. Those were the few that opened early.”

“Oh shit. Well then, speed on and try not to get us killed.”

“I’ll try.” He formed his lips into a smile.

And I did my best to not melt in my panties.

I also battled with not staring at him. After a few blocks, I glanced his way and caught him studying my halter top.

I blushed. “I usually find that it’s helpful to look in front when I’m driving. Maybe you should look forward too.”

“Then maybe you should’ve worn something else.”

“Are you saying that my clothes are distracting you from driving?”

He only grunted and returned to staring out the window.

Naughty Logan. What will I do with you?

He cleared his throat. “Are you going to tell me what’s bugging you this morning?”

“What? Nothing’s bugging me.” I sipped my coffee, relishing in the sweetness. Logan had added the right amount of Splenda and cream. Not even my brother could get my coffee right.

His expression changed to skeptical. “What’s going on, Mia?”

I sipped some more of my coffee. “I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” He slid to one lane and swerved into another, with pure precision, but still scary nonetheless.

“You could’ve been a stunt driver. You’re reckless with your driving, but in a very James Bondian smooth way.”

“You’re changing the topic.”

“Because I don’t want to talk about what I’m thinking about.”

“Why not?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek a little and then confessed, “It’s about your friend.”

“Tell me. You know I keep secrets.”

I smirked. “How would I know?”

“Does this face look like it’s a tattletale?”

“No.”

His face said many things—slide your pussy on it, suck on my lips, worship my cheekbones, fuck me so you’re offspring will look this gorgeous—but it didn’t say tattle teller.

His voice held an edge as he said the next words. “Is there something going on with Tyson and you?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to bring you into it.”

“Why not?”

“He’s your friend.”

“You’re my friend too. What’s up?” His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “What did he do?”