Logan (Carolina Reapers 4)

“Refreshing,” he said after the waitress had gone, and we’d filled our plates with garlic bread and stuffed mushrooms.

“What is?” I asked before sinking my teeth into a piece of bread. “Gah, so good,” I mumbled around the bite, and he laughed.

“It’s refreshing,” he said. “That you wouldn’t blatantly use someone for the sole purpose of accomplishing your own goals.”

A hint of anger colored his tone, and part of me wanted to ask him who had used him, but we’d only just met, so I arched a brow at him instead.

“That’s being human,” I said. “I don’t deserve a medal for it.” I considered for a moment. “But maybe a cookie?” I laughed, loving that he did too.

“You’d be surprised,” he said.

Okay, he opened that door. Don’t mind if I do walk right in…

“Enlighten me,” I said as casually as I could.

He sighed, taking several bites before speaking again. “My ex,” he said, and I hissed. Nothing ever good came from those words. “She used me.”

“Omigod, like for Reapers tickets?”

I don’t know why he laughed at that, but I didn’t mind listening to the sound at all.

“Sort of,” he said. “She used…my in with the Reapers to further her influencer status. Her social media following. And I didn’t see it.” He shook his head. “I didn’t realize until…”

A pang of sympathy stung the center of my chest. “That’s a load of bull shit,” I snapped, and surprise colored his eyes. “I’m sorry, but it is. And so unfair to you.” I pressed my lips in a line, then rolled my eyes. “Social media. You’ll never catch me on that crap.” An old, white-hot hurt sizzled in my blood. “Once something is posted, you never get it back,” I whispered, then shook off the dark memory threatening to choke me. “Why I stick to books,” I admitted. “They keep your secrets and help you escape at the same time.”

“Wow,” he said, those dark eyes trailing the length of my face, down my neck, and back up again. I felt his gaze like a lick of flame on my skin.

Oh no. No, you don’t!

“What?” I asked, slightly breathless.

“I’m glad Cannon dragged me into that library.” He grinned. “Glad you threw a book at my face.”

I chuckled. “Well, to be fair, you were a stranger coming in through my back door.”

“You have a hell of an arm,” he said.

I shrugged. “Girl has to protect herself.”

“Either way,” he said. “I’m really glad to have met you, Delaney.”

The way his tongue shaped my name made flames dance and flicker under my skin. Made a hunger wrench in my stomach. A need I couldn’t slake myself.

No. No. No.

“I’d like to help you,” he said. “With your southern wing.”

I furrowed my brow. “Um, no,” I said, shaking my head. “We literally just had this discussion. I won’t use you or whatever connections you have—”

“I know,” he cut me off. “But…in my downtime, when I’m in town, I could move those shelves for you,” he said, and my heart swelled at his easy but incredibly generous offer.

An image of him, shirtless and muscles bulging, working in the southern wing, sweat glistening on his perfect skin—

Stop.

“We’re friends,” I said the words aloud, and he flinched slightly before a mask of calm covered his face. “Just friends.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “The ex I referred to? That was recent. I don’t…I can’t—”

“Same,” I covered for him. “I mean, not super recent. But my ex…it was bad. So bad I haven’t wanted another relationship since him. Publicity-seeking frat boy,” I grumbled slightly. Logan tilted his head, and I waved him off. “He was a college football star. Much like your ex, he was focused on bettering his image, regardless of what it cost.” I swallowed hard. “I learned one thing from him, though,” I said, raising my glass. “I’ll never date another want-to-be celebrity athlete.”

Logan coughed slightly, mimicking my movement and raising his glass. “Hence, the aversion to sports.”

I nodded and clinked my glass against his.

“Friends,” he said, and I smiled.

“Friends.” I took a much larger drink than necessary.

Because the way my friend kept looking at me—all dark eyes and delicious lips—made me think anything but friendly thoughts.

And I knew exactly where that path led.

Pain and heartbreak and humiliation.

3

Logan

Sweat dripped down my neck as I ripped off my helmet on the way to the locker room. The crowd was still cheering, and the noise poured down the hallway that led back to the ice. With that five to four win against Boston, we’d just won the three-game series by the skin of our teeth.

“Good game,” Axel, our captain, said as he dropped his fist on my shoulder pad.

“Almost didn’t catch that last one,” I admitted.

“Demetrov is almost as fast as Cannon. And besides, you did.” He looked up ahead of us and a wide smile broke across his face at the sight of his wife, Langley. “Like I said, Ward. Good game.”