Page 90 of Frozen Hearts
However, it could also be the blond-haired hockey god leaning against the bumper that caught my attention more so than the car.
“Ooh, hot date?” Tara asks, eyeing up Logan like he’s a juicy gazelle and she’s a starved lion.
“Not exactly.”
She arches her brow. “Sounds like a story.”
“Not a very good one.”
“Need me to kick his ass?” Tara asks teasingly, but I sense she’s not merely joking. Tara is a bit of an enigma. She’s all feminine curves and fluttering lashes, but she’s got a tough exterior. Growing up in a poor community not far from here, she hasn’t had an easy life. It’s made her hard; it taught her how to stand up for herself. However, she’s loyal to a fault, and given that her brother owns The Depot, I have no doubt she could get a good shot or two in before Logan would gain the upper hand.
I smile gratefully at her. “Not tonight.”
“Well, you just let me know if that changes. I’ll dust off my knuckle dusters, especially for you.”
I clap my hand over my heart and tease, “Marry me?”
She throws her head back and laughs before something catches her eye and she nudges my shoulder. “Girl.” Gesturing to where the other dancers are eyeing Logan with equal interest, she says, “Might wanna claim your man before the vultures descend.”
“He’s not my man,” I point out. My efforts are futile and Tara simply smirks as she backs away.
“Whatever you say, mama. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She winks before spinning on her heels. She gives Logan a finger wave as she passes him on her way to her car parked at the back of the lot, earning herself an arched brow before he shifts his attention to me.
Swallowing, I steel my spine before moving toward him.
“What are you doing here?”
“Saving a stubborn woman from getting herself into a situation she can’t get out of.”
“It’s not your job to look out for me,” I retort, ignoring the unease in my stomach.
He makes a disgruntled noise before gritting, “Get in.”
Not wanting him to go all caveman on me like last night, I don’t fight him and instead walk around to the passenger side of the car. He nods, seeming appeased by my compliance before he hops in.
“Tara usually gives me a ride home,” I tell him when we’re nearly at my apartment, feeling the need to show him I’m not as stupid as he seems to think. I only walk home when I absolutely have to, which is only when Ben asks me to stay late. If he asks Tara or if she isn’t working that night, I usually grab a lift with one of the other girls.
“The one who waved?” he enquires.
I nod.
“She didn’t last night.”
“Because I had to stay late.”
“Do you do that often?”
I don’t know why he’s so interested, although I answer him anyway. “Occasionally.”
I hear a soft, irritated sigh at my vague answer, and I turn my face toward the window so he doesn’t catch my amused smirk.
“Who was that guy you were with last night?” he asks.
“What guy?” I ask, eyes narrowed as I snap my head around to glare at him.
“The pervy-looking dude with the flashy car to compensate for the fact his dick is hamster-sized.”
I snort at his surprisingly accurate summation of Ben, even as I pierce him with my suspicion.
