Page 54 of Catnip, Claws, and Chaos

CHAPTER TWENTY

Emily

My hands shake like crazy while I dig around for Logan's keys in my trainwreck of a purse. God, that whole bar thing was so humiliating. Kate might've meant well with her little intervention, but holy crap, she crossed every line there is. If I'd known what she was planning, I swear I would've tackled her to that gross, sticky floor before she could do anything.

Or not.

Truth is, part of me wanted to join her crusade against Logan. To just yell and flip out and demand why he's been treating me like I have the plague after we hooked up.

But watching that drink splash all over his friend's fancy pants, seeing everyone's shocked faces... Jesus, it was like watching a car crash happening right in front of me. Kate's always been my bodyguard since we were kids. When Becky Wilson shoved me off the monkey bars in fifth grade, Kate pushed her face-first into the mud without thinking twice. That's just how she rolls. She's all impulse and rage. Screw what happens after.

I love her for it, seriously. But I didn't want Logan humiliated. Despite all the crap, despite him giving me the cold shoulder and acting all professional and the painful silence, I still want him to see me as more than just a messy pain in his perfectly organized life. And Kate's drunk revenge mission just confirmed his worst thoughts about me.

After the whole drink-throwing show, Logan jumped up and followed his friend outside without saying a single damn word to me. No reaction, no yelling, not even a glance my way, though we locked eyes just seconds before. Just nothing.

Sarah wrestled Kate into an Uber, both of us apologizing to the driver while Kate slurred on about jerks who deserve drinks in their faces from the back seat. After watching the car disappear into the night, I thought about going anywhere but back to Logan's apartment. But my options dried up with each minute ticking by, especially this late.

So here I am, outside his door. No clue what's waiting for me on the other side. Will Logan be sitting on the couch, feet planted wide, arms crossed over his chest, judging me silently? Will those green eyes pin me to the wall for ruining his precious night out? Or worse, will he tell me to pack my stuff and get lost? The hard truth is, I've got nowhere else to crash.

I take a deep breath, trying to chill my anxiety, and push the door open. The apartment is dark except for the glow coming through the enormous windows. I scan the room, looking for Logan. Part of me expects him to pop out from the shadows like some brooding movie villain. But the living room is empty.

As my eyes get used to the darkness, I step forward, wondering whether to call out or sneak to my bedroom and deal with the inevitable blowup tomorrow. Before I decide, a massive shadow breaks away from the darkness and charges at me.

I scream before I can stop myself. I stumble backward, nearly falling on my butt as the giant black beast tackles me.

“Goddammit, Bob!” I snap at the huge dog that’s slobbering all over my face. His tongue leaves wet trails across my cheeks, and his breath reeks of those stupidly expensive organic dog treats Logan buys him. Even though I'm annoyed, there's something nice about Bob's over-the-top greeting. At least someone in this apartment doesn't treat me like I'm invisible.

I dig my fingers into his thick fur and push him off with everything I've got.

“Sit,” I order, brushing away the explosion of dog hair covering my black dress. Seriously, how does one dog shed enough fur to make three more dogs?

Getting back to my feet, I look around for signs of Logan. I'm pissed he isn't here. The jerk's absence bugs me more than it should. I ruined his night out. Well, technically Kate did, but since she did it for me, it's on me. I embarrassed him in front of his friend. Well, again, Kate did. But that hardly matters now. So where the hell is he? Why isn't he waiting with that trademark scowl and clenched jaw, demanding explanations? Why isn't he confronting me or telling me to get out? Un-fucking-believable.

Without thinking, I let my feet carry me toward his bedroom. I push the door open without knocking and freeze in the doorway.

Holy shit, Superman! For just a second, one traitorous second, I forget why I'm so mad. Logan must have just gotten back. He's standing in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips. Water droplets cling to his broad shoulders and chest, catching the light from the bathroom. His hair is wet and slicked back, showing off the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones. Little streams of water roll down his chest and shoulders, disappearing under the towel's edge.

I bite my lip and can't look away. My anger melts under a hot wave of want that hits me out of nowhere. God, I want to runmy tongue along every inch of his body. To drag my finger down that teasing line of dark blond hair from his belly button until it disappears beneath the towel, following the sculpted ridges between his abs. To press my lips against the hollow at the base of his throat where his pulse beats. I want?—

“What do you want, Emily?” His voice cuts through my daydream. He doesn't try to cover up, standing there like he either doesn't care that I'm here or he's too angry to be modest.

I push away my inappropriate thoughts and try to remember why I stormed in here like a hurricane. However, it's nearly impossible to focus with him standing there like some Greek god come to life. Down, girl. Breathe. Remember why you're pissed.

“I saw you at the bar tonight.” I mentally slap myself.

“Yeah, and I saw you, Emily.” His voice rumbles from deep in his chest, his gaze locked on mine. Those intense eyes peel away my defenses layer by layer as if he's reading my mind. “I also saw your friend. She seems... nice.”

“Um, yeah, I'm sorry for how she acted.” I shift uncomfortably, suddenly aware of my too-tight dress, my makeup probably smeared beyond hope from Bob's slobbery welcome. “She had a little too much to drink and kind of lost it.”

“Maybe she shouldn't drink if she can't handle her alcohol.” His measured tone barely hides how annoyed he is.

My face gets hot. “Oh, come on, she just did something stupid.” I feel defensive even though I know Kate went way over the line. Still, I won't throw my friend under the bus for Logan's approval, not even to fix this mess.

“Really? Her behavior seemed deliberately aggressive. Stephen was pretty cool about not making things worse. Someone else might have reacted way less nicely.” He runs his fingers through his wet hair, scattering droplets everywhere. “Not everyone has Stephen's patience.”

A snort escapes me. “I'm sorry, okay? Kate thought she was doing me a favor or something.” The confession bursts out before I can stop it, and I immediately regret it.

Logan's eyes narrow, focusing on me with predatory interest. “Are you telling me Stephen wasn't the target? That the drink was meant for me instead of him?” His voice has a dangerous edge, daring me to tell the truth.

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