“Getting comfy over there?” Logan asks, eyes going to Tommy, who’s sitting at the bar, and then back to me.
“What?”
“You two seemed friendly.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I guess? I talk to all my customers. I get better tips that way.”
“Yeah.” He raises his eyebrows. “You sure it’s just for tips?”
Logan gets moody like this every now and then, and usually I dismiss it until he’s back to normal. But today I feel like pushing.
“Yeah, for tips. I’m not exactly making bank as a bartender, and I’m trying to build my savings.” I put my hand on my hip and take a deep breath, making my breasts rise and fall under my dress. “But if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”
“Jealous,” he snorts. “Jealous of Tommy Oaken. That guy’s a loser.”
“Then you won’t care if I go on a date with him tomorrow night?”
“You’re working tomorrow night.”
“Then the next day.” I keep my face neutral, reading Logan’s expression. I don’t have a date with Tommy, nor do I want one. But he did ask me out, which is more than I can say for Logan. Maybe I should go out with Tommy just to get back out there in the dating game.
“Fine,” Logan huffs. “At least you’d be going out with someone.”
He gathers a few empty glasses and takes them back into the kitchen to put them in the sink.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, following behind him.
“It means you’ve been swearing up and down since the moment you got here that you hate men and don’t want to date anyone.”
“I never said I hate men. I think. I mean, I might have. Because guys are jerks.”
“We’re not all jerks,” he spits, eyes clouding with anger. “By all means, go out with Tommy fucking Oaken. But if you want to date a guy who’s not a jerk, then don’t go out with that fucker.” Logan goes into the walk-in fridge, slamming the door shut behind him. Balling my fingers into fists, I march right in after him.
“Why do you care who I go out with?”
“Seriously?” He puts the cut of hamburger meat he was holding back onto the shelf.
“Yeah.” I let out a breath and feel a chill creep down my back already.
Logan’s eyes drill into mine with a fire I’ve never seen before. It cuts right through me, chilling me more than the cold air billowing around us. He strides forward, and I step back, pinning myself against the closed door of the fridge. Cold metal kisses my skin, and goosebumps break out along my flesh.
Logan doesn’t stop until his hips are right up against mine. My lips part and I inhale, but I still get no air. His face is inches from mine, and I can’t take my eyes off his lips.
“What are we?” he asks.
I slowly shake my head. “We’re uh, friends?”
“That’s all you want?”
“Yeah. You’re my best friend, Logan. What’s wrong with that?” I hate the words that are coming out of my mouth, but admitting I want more, that I could easily fall in love with him, terrifies me.
“Maybe I am stupid,” he starts, tipping his head down. “Or maybe I’ve been too fucking nice.” He brings one arm up, bicep flexing, and pushes my hair back over my shoulder.
“What are you talking about?” My voice comes out thin, and my breath clouds around us.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. And I don’t want to do this anymore.”
My eyes flutter closed, and I inhale again, trying to fill my lungs with oxygen because suddenly I can’t remember how to breathe. A warmth spreads through me, starting in my stomach and rushing over every inch of me. It settles between my legs, and the longing I’ve felt for Logan Dawson, the feelings I’ve ignored and pushed away, threaten to break down the gates.
“Then don’t,” I whisper.
Just when I think Logan is going to kiss me, when I can let my body finally cave into what I’ve been craving since the moment I laid eyes on Logan, he pushes off the door and goes back to the shelf.
Blinking, I bring my arms up and wrap them around myself, unable to stop shivering now. With an armload of beer I know we don’t need to put in the mini fridge at the bar, Logan storms toward the door. I move out of the way, still not sure exactly what happened.
Or what didn’t.
And I can’t help the sinking feeling that I just fucked up any sort of chance I had with Logan.* * *
“Can you believe that guy?” I narrow my eyes, watching James reach across the table and take the pretty, young blonde’s hand.
“What’s wrong with him?” Owen asks, looking up from the bar. Logan has kept himself busy doing anything he can that involves avoiding me.