Logan (Carolina Reapers 4)

“I don’t understand,” I’d chided them. “I was the one who invited you here. This can be my treat—”

“Nope.” Cannon cut me off and was the winner of the three-way tugging match that had happened over our table. Annabelle and Cannon’s sister were totally unfazed, but I couldn’t help but laugh at the three of them.

“Jeez, Cannon, they must pay you well at the arena, too, huh?” I teased, and settled back into my seat. Cannon flashed Logan an unreadable look, but I pushed on. “I am perfectly capable of—”

“No one is doubting that, Delaney,” Logan whispered into my ear, and I totally forgot what I’d been arguing about in the first place. “We take turns,” he said, eyeing Connell, then Cannon. “It’s fine.”

“Okay, well, I’d like to be included on the turns.”

Connell smiled, his grin easy and effortless as he wrapped an arm around Annabelle’s shoulders. “If that’s the case, you have to be initiated into the group.”

Logan’s jaw flexed from clenching it so hard and he shook his head at Connell.

Annabelle swatted him. “Don’t you dare,” she threatened.

“What?” He laughed. “It’s only fair.”

“I’m in,” I said, perching my hands on the table. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“I like this one,” Connell said, pointing at me but looking directly at Logan, who continued to glare at him, a flash of fear in his eyes. I laughed, squeezing his hand.

“Relax,” I whispered. “What harm can the Scotsman do?”

“You don’t know him,” Logan ground out the words.

“Oh, bollocks,” Connell said. “I’m harmless. Cannon is the real scary one—”

“Excuse me, Mr. MacDhuibh?” A young voice cut off his words, and Connell shifted in his seat, revealing a boy no older than twelve. His mother—if the matching corn silk hair was any indication, stood awestruck behind him. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir. But I’m a huge fan. I have your jersey, but it’s at home. With my gear. I’m a defenseman, too. I want to play for the Reapers when I get old enough.” He blinked, cutting off his ramble, and shoved a marker and paper in front of Connell. “Can I have your autograph?”

Logan shifted in his seat, almost fully turning around, probably looking for our waitress again to try and somehow stop Cannon from paying and picking up the tab himself.

“Of course, lad,” Connell said, scribbling over his paper. “You coming to the next home game?” he asked, and the kid’s shoulders dropped.

His mother took a step forward. “We tried to snag tickets, but they sold out. We’ll be quicker about the next one.”

Connell handed the piece of paper back to the kid, and waved them off. “Nonsense,” he said. He reached in his suit jacket pocket, fishing out a card and writing something on it before handing it to the kid. “Call that number and tell them that code word. Langley will find you those tickets.”

The kid’s eyes were as big as saucers, and tears lined the mother’s. My heart swelled at the generosity.

“We always need good defensemen in the world, kiddo. Keep practicing. Work hard. And there is no reason on the planet you can’t take my spot in a few years.”

“Thank you, sir!” The kid backed away at his mother’s urging.

“Thank you, Mr. MacDhuibh,” she said, clearly holding back tears. “This means the world to us. To him.”

Connell nodded as they made their way out of the restaurant, and Annabelle stared at him with adoring eyes. “Sorry about that,” Connell said as he shifted back to the table, eyes on me.

I waved him off. “Don’t be,” I said. “That was incredible.”

He shrugged.

“It was,” I insisted. “I’ve known my fair share of celebrity athletes, and it’s so refreshing to see someone as humble and generous as you.”

Connell’s eyes flashed to Logan, who had finally returned to face the table. “Who did you know?”

I sighed. “A college football player. Trust me, he couldn’t hold a candle to you. He treated his fans—” I cut myself off before I could elaborate. There was no way in hell I needed to go down that dark path tonight. “Anyway. You’re amazing.”

Connell puffed his chest a bit. “I really am.”

We all laughed while Annabelle swatted his chest again, mumbling cocky scot under her breath.

After giving our farewells, I fell into the passenger seat of Logan’s car, full in more ways than the food had provided. “That was so fun,” I said, eyeing him as he navigated the dark streets toward his home.

“I’m glad you liked them,” he said.

“Were you worried?” I asked.

“A little,” he said. “I know how you feel about celebrity athletes, or as much as you’ve shared with me.”

I shifted in the seat at that truth. I hadn’t given him the full story yet, and perhaps I should. We were…well, I didn’t know what we were. But I didn’t want to dig up the past tonight. Not when it had been so wonderful.