Page 27 of Just Say Yes

Maybe the problem was how much I wanted him to try.

EIGHT

MJ

I’m not entirelysure why I finally decided I would go to a match.

Maybe it was the random pep talk from JP about not fighting my feelings.

Maybe it was because I wanted him to prove he was just like Trent, despite how sweet Logan was with his grandpa.

Maybe it was because he looked soin his elementwhen he was horsing around with those kids on the beach.

Maybe it was to prove to myself that I wouldn’t fall for another man’s false promises.

Maybe it was that damn dimple.

Regardless of the true reason, I had finally driven the two hours to Chicago to attend a rugby exhibition match.

Logan had informed me that during the offseason, he’d be playing game one of a doubleheader with the Western Wildhawks, a team located in the upper Midwest. My butt hurt from sitting in the car, and I checked my outfit. I chose a pair of jeans and a hunter-green Henley, pairing it with gold jewelry. I adjusted the gold scrunchie on my wrist. Finding gold and green to match the team’s colors was a bit of a challenge at the last minute.

I curled my hair and applied a little bit of makeup. I hoped that it was true and that there would be tickets waiting for me at the box office.

I also prayed that I sat next to people who liked to talk. I hadzeroexperience with rugby, so if I didn’t have someone to help answer questions, I was sure to be lost.

I pulled a deep inhale through my nose, forcing a hit of bravery before climbing out of my car and heading toward the stadium. The Chicago wind nipped at me, and I pulled my jacket closed.

“Shit,” I muttered. I would have to buy a team blanket or something so I wouldn’t freeze to death before the first half.

Do they evenhavehalves in rugby?I groaned inwardly.Why am I even here? Oh, that’s right ... a freaking dimple.

I walked across the busy parking lot. Much like I’d seen at football games, people were tailgating and celebrating before the game even began. Green and gold were in direct opposition to the blue and black of the Wildhawks’ opponents. Fans cheered and called me over, offering a hot dog or a chance to play a beanbag toss game. I smiled politely and kept on walking.

When I reached the box office window, my nerves were rattling. “Hi,” I said. “My name is MJ King. I think there might be a ticket for me?”

The woman in the booth smiled politely and typed into her computer. She paused, and then her eyebrows rose. “One minute.”

My hand tapped against my thigh as I waited. The woman picked up a walkie-talkie and hit the button. “Hey, Vince. I’ve got a special request from Brown. His guest is here.”

Special request?

Vince responded with something I couldn’t hear, and the woman smiled at me. “If you just wait here, someone will be down to fetch you in a minute.”

“Thank you,” I replied and stepped aside.

A few minutes later, Logan came into view. He was only half dressed in his uniform—protective shorts, socks pulled to his knees with slip-on sandals, and a white tank top that was sinfully tight. It showed off his thick arms and chest, which tapered down to a trim waist. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head as he jogged toward me.

For a split second, I thought about turning around and leaving. But then Logan smiled—that wide, boyish grin—and the thought dissolved into the cold September air.

“You came!” His smile was bright and wide.

I waved and pressed my lips into a small smile. “I’m here.”

Up close, Logan smelled like mint and a fresh shower. The tips of his hair were damp, and heat pumped off him despite the cold.

“Come on,” he said and gestured. “I’ll bring you to the box.”

“Box?” I asked as I followed behind him, sneaking a peek of his butt.

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