Page 35 of Risky Game

“Yeah, she is an interior designer out in Portland and was just asking me how everything’s going here.”

A small smirk grazed his lips. “Did you tell her you’re working for a tyrant?”

I nodded as serious as I could be given the embarrassment still stinging my cheeks. “Absolutely, yes.”

As gracefully as I possibly could, I dropped onto the couch in the same spot where I sat last week and once again pressed my feet to the edge of the coffee table. Logan was still chuckling as I took my first sip of wine. For several minutes, we sat in the peace of the outside. No noise other than the chirping of bugs starting to awaken for the night. It was peaceful, calm. And the exact antithesis of what was swirling inside of me.

The more often I was around Logan, the more I was starting to really like him. He was kind. Generous. Nothing made him smile larger than his little girl. He was thoughtful. Passionate about his job. He cleaned up after himself and cooked his own meals. And he was so damn sexy every time I saw him, that first glimpse of him stole my breath. If I was writing a list of qualities I’d look for in a husband or partner, he’d check off every single one I could think of and still have so many I’d never considered.

And there was not a chance in hell he felt the same way about me.

Fortunately, I didn’t pass out on the couch again.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to feel Logan’s arms around me or have him carry me to bed.

We talked about the team. I asked him questions about the transition from player to coach. We even spent time talking about what life was like for him out in California and how it was different than here.

We noted a lot of similarities from moving from the West Coast to the east. When conversation stalled, I’d taken the rest of the wine inside and fallen asleep before I could finish a chapter of my current dark fantasy romance read.

I woke up rested, able to get in a quick workout in his home gym I’d taken to using while he was getting Amelia awake and ready in the morning.

“Well, I think that’s the prettiest little leotard I’ve seen, Amelia.”

Her lips rolled together. I was learning that was when she was trying not to smile. She glanced up at Logan, who was screwing the lid on his coffee cup, before heading out the door and he rose two brows at her.

She turned back to me, shuffling her feet. “Thank you, Miss Ruby.”

But she didn’t sound happy. And she didn’t sound all that thankful.

I gave the same look back to Logan with brows arched and he nodded in the direction of the front door.

Following him there, he had one hand on the doorknob, the other holding his coffee, and he bent down and whispered, “I talked with her this morning about being polite even if she’s sad or frustrated and that our words matter. Hopefully, that helps her get through the day for you.”

I doubted it, but he was trying, and truthfully, she was thawing toward me. It’d only been a week, after all.

“We’ll be fine, Logan. Get to work.”

“Have a good day.” He leaned in, and before I could process what he was doing, he was leaning back, and the burn of his lips on my cheek was searing straight into my brain.

“Uh.” He blinked at me.

“Uh,” I repeated.

Both of us gaped at each other.

Had he just..? “Did you…”

“God. I’m so sorry. So sorry, Ruby. It was just, we’re at the door, and we’re talking, and it…”

His fumbling and his own pink-stained cheeks made laughter erupt from me.

Oh my God, he’d kissed me like he was saying goodbye to his wife or something and how humiliating. How hilarious. “It’s okay. Really. Go.”

I stepped back and waved my arm toward the door, gesturing for him to leave. Could this get any worse?

“We’ll talk about this later,” he said, and he looked so upset, so mortified.

“We are talking about this never,” I told him and put my back to him. I lifted a hand in the air. “Have a good day at work, Logan.”

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