“Why did you phone me?”
Guilt burrowed behind my ribs and made a nest. “I have something to tell you.”
“Yup, still with you there.”
I set the coffee down so I wouldn’t be tempted to scald the remainder of my virgin mouth. “I—Norman had a few misconceptions. About the whole meeting yesterday.”
His eyebrows lifted, just a fraction.
I continued, “He thought—I’m not sure what gave him this impression, but he thought that you and I were . . . together.”
Logan cocked his head to the side. “Huh.”
My eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, ‘huh?’” The way he said it made my hackles rise.
“I don’t know.”
“Is it so out of the realm of possibility that someone like me would be dating an NHL player?”
Logan held up a hand. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“What did you mean by it?”
“I don’t know, you said you weren’t sure what gave him that impression, so I was agreeing with you.”
I pursed my lips. This wasn’t going well. I was too on edge, and Logan was . . . Logan. Confusing and annoying and hot. Not a great combination for me, it turned out. “Norman thought we were together, so he offered me the job because it includes some press opportunities and outreach. Both of which he assumed we’d be doing together. He only gave me the opportunity because he thought you came with it.”
There. I said it. I picked up my coffee cup and stared into the muddy liquid. He’d added cream and sugar. Exactly how I liked it.
When Logan didn’t say anything, I risked a glance up. He was grinning at me. “You signed it.”
“I—” I snapped my mouth closed. He looked exactly opposite of what I expected. I had responses ready for anger and betrayal, but glee? I was at a loss. “I did. I signed it.”
“You’ve been giving me shit about being selfish and not being honest with Shar?—”
“I get it!” I groaned, clutching my cup like a comfort blanket. “But this is a little different, okay? He put me on the spot!”
“And that girl in Ontario didn’t put me on the spot?”
“Dude, you kissedmore than one other girlwhile you were dating Shar! This is so not the same!”
“I think the Bible would disagree. And making up a story about me in my absence?—"
“For the love! Are you seriously getting all religious on me?” I turned my back on him, my cheeks on fire. I set my cup on the dresser and started organizing the clothes I still hadn’t folded from laundry day. “I’m sorry, okay? I was blinded by my own ambition, and I wasn’t thinking straight because it was Norman frigging Marcus!” I threw a sweater onto the bed in frustration. “I’ll phone him. I’ll tell him he misunderstood, and if he takes away the job?—”
“No.” Logan was laughing—laughing—as he stood and pressed his large hands onto my shoulders. I froze, tilting my head to look at him. “This is perfect. And I’m going to tell you why.”
Chapter
Eight
Logan waitedfor me to grab the contract and sit on the bed, then handed me my coffee and dropped down beside me. The mattress dipped, making me sway into him. I tried to scooch over, but our knees were still touching.
“I’ve got this clause,” he said. “Community involvement. Team wants more outreach. Hospital visits, youth camps, whatever. It’s supposed to make us look good after last season’s mess.”
It took me a minute, but then I remembered Axel and Rory talking about the Blizzard at Ranchman’s at the end of last season. Officially, it was “an off-ice incident during the final road trip.” Unofficially, half the roster got blind drunk at a sponsor’s retreat in Kelowna and managed to burn every bridge between here and the Okanagan. A few players crashed a corporate yacht party, and there were reports of one player saying unrepeatable things to a Canada Parks employee when she told him to put his pants back on. The RCMP got involved when someone called about naked men singing Alanis Morissette’s ‘Ironic.’”
He gave me a look. “Yeah. That one. Anyway, if I do Marcus Foundation stuff or attend events, it’s logged as communityservice hours. The PR team is happy, and you get to have your job opportunity.”
