Page 23 of Just Say Yes

“Hey, Dukey,” I singsonged as I approached, slipping my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

“MJ,” he greeted, his tone brusque but his eyes warm. “Come for the jam or just to hassle me?”

“Both,” I said with a grin, scanning the display. “You still got that blueberry-lavender one? Bug’s been raving about it.”

“Last jar is yours if you want it,” he said, reaching under the counter and pulling out a small jar with a neatly tied red gingham ribbon.

I wrinkled my nose at him. “You better stop being such a softie.” I leaned in to whisper. “Everyone’s starting to notice.”

He harrumphed from behind his table, and I laughed. Teasing Duke made everything almost feel normal again.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Logan’s playful voice floated over my shoulder and I froze.

Duke’s eyes narrowed as I stayed pinned in place.

When Duke married my sister and the King-Sullivan rivalry fell to the wayside, I’d somehow unintentionally inheritedthree moreoverprotective brothers.

But I’d be lying if I didn’t say that atthisparticular moment, I didn’t hate how intimidating Duke Sullivan’s presence could be. I had no doubt my sister had filled Duke in on my embarrassing encounter with Logan at the bookstore.

I turned and acted confused. “Oh, I’m sorry, do we know each other?”

Unfazed, Logan laughed and reached a hand across the table to Duke. “Hi. I’m Logan.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to me as a casual smirk tugged at his lips.

His smirk was infuriating, the kind of grin that said he was used to winning, used to women falling at his feet. I wanted to hate it. I wanted to hatehim. But the way my pulse kicked up every time he leaned closer told me my body wasn’t exactly on my side.

He looked annoyingly handsome in a plaid shirt over a navy Henley that stretched across his broad chest and a pair of jeans that had definitely seen better days. His hair was slightly tousled, like he’d just rolled out of bed, and I hated that my first thought was wondering whether someone else had occupied that bed with him.

Reluctantly, Duke stretched out his arm and placed his hand in Logan’s. I watched as their hands squeezed between me.

It was a bizarre and humorous display of masculinity that nearly made me giggle.

I placed the small jam jar into the knit shopping bag on my arm and raised it to Duke. “Thanks for the jam. I’ll see you around.”

Duke’s expression softened as he nodded. Without looking at Logan, I left the Sullivan Farms stand and continued walking through the farmers’ market.

Logan followed, a quiet shadow only steps behind me.

“Logan,” I said, stopping short and fixing him with a look.

He tilted his head, that damn smirk still playing on his face. “Yes?”

He tried his best to look innocent, but I could see right through him. I shook my head and kept walking.

Logan fell into step beside me. “That color purple looks amazing on you, by the way. I think it just might be my favorite color.”

“You’re relentless,” I muttered, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back, his tone light. “It might mean we’re a good match.”

“We’re not a match at all,” I replied, tugging my sweater sleeves over my hands as the breeze picked up.

Can you imagine? A pro athlete with his choice of women throwing themselves at his feet and him choosingme?

A scoff escaped through my nose, but I think he mistook it for flirting, because he inched closer. “I think you see it too,” he teased, his grin widening.

I stopped walking and turned to face him. “Logan, why are you following me?”

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