Page 75 of Just Say Yes

Did I say something wrong? Was he regretting inviting me?

My mind spiraled, searching for an answer.

His jaw was set, and he only nodded before taking a long gulp of ice water. I didn’t want to pry—maybe it was nerves for the upcoming match. Logan took his job as captain seriously, and the rest of the team seemed like they were eager to have a wild night, despite their match in the morning.

Everyone was talking and having a good time, but Logan’s silence beside me made me uncomfortable.

Maria gasped, and I looked up to see the waitstaff carrying in trays of little desserts. I’d already consumed my weight in sushi and teriyaki noodles, but when the server placed a small plate in front of me, I couldn’t resist.

“Madagascar vanilla bean crème brûlée with calamansi gelée,” the server announced.

I didn’t have a clue what calamansi gelée was, but the dish in front of me looked like a standard crème brûlée. I hoped calamansi wasn’t some kind of fish, but I plunged my spoon into the little white pot anyway. I quickly eyeballed the crème brûlée and gave it a quick sniff. It certainly didn’t smell like seafood, but rather warm vanilla with a hint of citrus.

I bravely stuffed it into my mouth and moaned. A quick giggled followed as my fingertips pressed into my lips. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Don’t be.” Maria laughed and took her own bite. “This is better than sex.”

“Hey!” Maria’s husband’s face twisted at her comment. She had once explained that his position on the team was something called aprop, and Joe was absolutely massive.

Maria bumped into his gigantic shoulder. “Try it and tell me I’m wrong.”

With a disbelieving scoff, he took a bite off his wife’s spoon, and his eyes went wide. “Oh, damn.”

Together we laughed, and I tried to lean into the moment, but beside me, Logan was still tense.

I gestured toward the untouched ceramic dish in front of him. “Not a dessert guy?”

He shook his head but didn’t look at me. “Just not hungry.”

He pushed the dish an inch toward me, and with a shrug I hooked my spoon onto the edge and pulled it toward me. The entire time I devoured my dessert—and his—Logan was still and quiet.

The second my spoon rested beside the crème brûlée pot, he leaned in. “Ready to go?”

I glanced around the room. Everyone was still mid-conversation, laughing and refilling their wineglasses.

I brushed the linen napkin across my lips and set it beside my plate. “Sure.”

My hand found Maria’s back. “We’re heading out. See you at the game?”

Her eyes flicked from me to Logan and back again before she smiled. “Good night, you two.”

A hint of playfulness in her voice made my cheeks heat. I waved and quietly said my goodbyes as Logan practically dragged me out of the restaurant. He was broody and tense as he stomped past the other tables and jabbed the elevator button with his finger.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine.”

He was definitelynotfine. Maria had warned me that professional athletes get moody and superstitious and weird before big matches. Maybe this was just how Logan dealt with the pressure.

Still, somehow it felt like his frustrations were directed atme, and I didn’t like the sinking feeling it created in my stomach.

I definitely didn’t need that second crème brûlée.

I rubbed my aching stomach, willing the tightness to go away. When the doors opened, I was relieved that we weren’t alone in the elevator. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing, but I also didn’t feel like I had done anything to warrant the silent treatment he was dishing out. When the elevator stopped on the ninth floor, Logan’s wide steps quickly outpaced my own.

“Wait up,” I called, my annoyance stacking like angry little bricks.

Logan used his key card to open the door and held it for me with one hand.

---