“Another reason you should be taking him out,” my father says, flicking his wrist. “Entertaining him. Maybe he’ll forget this trial nonsense.”
“Or I could just be really good at my job,” I say. “Which I am.” I try not to seem surprised at how confident I’m coming across. There’s still someone else’s voice in the back of my mind that keeps butting in with an “are you sure” every time I make a claim about my abilities.
“Doesn’t solve the fact he wants off this island,” my father grumbles.
“I’ll work on being a good trainer. You two work on ‘entertaining’ him.”
My father opens his mouth, and Alex holds up his hand, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Ava’s actually volunteered to lead the welcoming committee for the team.”
“Ava?” I say, barely holding in my disbelief. “And you’re considering that?”
“I’m sure she’d really throw herself into the role,” Alex says.
“Throw herselfathim, you mean. And every other player, married or not.”
“Unlike your father,I’mnot suggesting that’s a good strategy. But I firmly believe, and so does my wife, that the key to Logan Bishop staying on the island is connection. Connecting with people. Connecting with places. Rory thinks he’s a kid who likely craves connection, given his upbringing.”
The fact that he’s called Logan a kid in the same breath he references his wife, who’s barely older than him, is almost laughable. However, Aurora Summerset has excellent instincts when it comes to people. She, somehow, managed to turn Alex, a man who was once an arrogant ass, into a tolerable human. I never would have thought he had it in him, and it’s one hundred percent why we only ever went on one arranged date when he was seeking a wife.
“A little amateur psychoanalysis,” I say, pursing my lips.
“Giving him roots is worth a shot,” Alex says, splaying his hands. “You’re good with people. You were excellent at working a crowd during Dalton’s bid to get on the Advisory Council. I was sorry to hear you two had split. Seeing you together, I thought it was the real thing.”
I swallow, and I gather my thoughts. “You never really know from the outside.” Even inside the relationship, I didn’t knowuntil it all came crashing down. “But I’m not mixing business with pleasure where Logan is concerned. I’ll figure out how to train him in the way he wants and needs, but I’m not his personal source of connection.” I give them both a pointed look, a little proud of myself for maintaining firm boundaries.
Alex sighs. “Ava it is then.”
“She is very good at throwing parties,” my dad agrees. “I’ll get her to put something together for tonight. At Wino Wine Bar. A little mixer. Get Bishop to go, will you?”
I run my fingers along my forehead and down my temples. “I can mention it to him.”
My father gives me a satisfied nod, and when I see Alex and him exchange a glance, I sense my firm boundaries were nothing but a mirage.
“Did you get everything you need?” Logan asks, wiping sweat off his forehead with a towel, his bicep flexing, after I jot down the last set of numbers.
He’s shirtless and glistening. I’ve been so focused on making sure I didn’t screw up this evaluation, that right now is the first time I’ve fully absorbed the glory of his professional physique. Really athletic guys haven’t set me on fire in the past, but there’s something about the way his muscles ripple with the simplest movement, the fact he absolutely demolished all these test sets, that’s sinfully sexy.
It’s an unfortunate time to realize I might have an elite athlete kink.
At least I’m sure it’s nothimI’m attracted to—not really—it’s his talent.
And maybe his physical appearance, which is a result of his talent.
My phone on the bench in the workout room lights up, and I glance at it. Ava, again. She’s been sending a flurry of voice memos to the family group chat for the last hour. I’m guessing Dad told her about his Wino Wine Bar plan for tonight.
“Do you need to get that?” Logan nods at my phone.
“Nope.” I scan the clipboard to make sure I’ve gotten all the essential tests done to establish a baseline. “It’s just my sister.”
“Which one?”
His question registers a beat later, and I glance up, surprised. “You know I have more than one?”
“Season’s just starting. I was bored. Looked you up. Two sisters. Two brothers. You’re the second oldest.”
“You googled me?”
“Yes?”
