“Doubt it. But we’ll see.” Because I am going to find out why Blair is here. Then I will make sure she knows that there’s not a chance in hell we’ll ever have a repeat of that night in LA. No matter how much my semi-hard dick may protest.
eight
BLAIR
Ohmygod.Ohmygod. Ohmygod.
Why? Why did I just pretend I don’t know Logan? How is that going to fix anything? And why did he seem so angry with me? It’s not like I lied about who I was or even went out of my way to talk to him at the club.Heapproachedme. He bought me a drink. How in the hell was I supposed to know he was a hockey player on the very team I was moving across the country to work for?
Seriously, what are the odds? Abysmal. The odds are abysmal. And yet, here we are.
“So…” Bryson side-eyes me as we finish the tour and head back up to the corporate offices. “That was kinda weird, huh? Logan Byrne thought he recognized you.”
Logan Byrne. Even his full name is sexy.
I force out a chuckle that sounds reedy even to my ears and push a strand of curls off my face. “Yeah. Totally weird.”
Bryson is quiet, probably waiting to see if I’ll elaborate, but when I don’t, he doesn’t push. I appreciate it immensely. The last thing I need right now is to admit to a one-night stand withone of the players. No way is that a good look, even if it was completely random and I had no idea who he was.
When we get back up to our offices, Bryson puts a hand on my shoulder and searches my face before murmuring a quiet warning that makes my stomach flip. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t know what’s going on with you and Logan, but we can’t afford any drama between members of our team and the players. There’s no official rule against dating or anything, but the woman who had the job before you? She got too involved with the players, had some inappropriate interactions, and it didn’t end well for her. Or us because, well, we ended up down a staff member. You seem cool, Blair, and I’m not saying you’ll go around creating drama with Logan or anyone else, but you should know why your job was open.” Bryson rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. “So, yeah.”
My pulse feels like it’s stampeding through my veins, but I paste on a smile to reassure my brand-new coworker that dating a player won’t be an issue for me. Especially not one who looks at me with the kind of disdain Logan just did. Besides, the man doesn’t date. He told me himself. “Trust me, you won’t have to worry about me. I don’t have time for drama, and I definitely don’t have time for dating.”
Bryson smiles and, thankfully, lets the subject drop.
I don’t have time to dwell on Logan Byrne or my batshit decision to pretend I didn’t recognize him. Between the IT guy, Tess, and the stack of reading material she asked me to go over in order to familiarize myself with the Rogues and the type of community outreach and programs they have participated in over the last decade, my time is utterly filled. When five o’clock rolls around, I’m hungry and exhausted.
“Great work today,” Tess says with a smile. “We’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow. Now go home and get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
My boss waves me off, insisting that she doesn’t believe in working late unless there’s something incredibly urgent that needs to be dealt with, which I appreciate. Reed texted when he got to our place to let me know he didn’t get lost and he’s completely fine, but I hate the idea of him being alone in an unfamiliar apartment in a brand-new city. I want to get home and ask him about his day.
Walking to my car, my head is on a swivel. I doubt Logan’s still here, but I’m not taking any chances. The last thing I want is to have another run-in with him. As long as I’m careful, I shouldn’t have any reason to see him—Tess said the corporate employees and the players rarely mix—but with my luck, he’ll be parked right next to me or something.
My rapid heart rate only slows when I see that there aren’t many cars left in the lot, and there are none parked near mine. But I don’t completely relax until I’m halfway to the apartment. As crazy as it sounds, I checked my rearview mirror every few minutes during the first half of my drive. Not sure what I was expecting, but some irrational part of me worried I’d see Logan’s steely eyes glaring at me from my rearview mirror.
Reed has a pot of spaghetti cooking on the stove when I push through the door to our new home, and I let out a sigh of relief. My little brother may not be chatty lately, and he may be sullen more often than not, but he’s a great kid. He doesn’t wait for me to take care of everything and helps out where he can.
“Hey.” I drop my purse onto the couch. “How was your first day?”
Reed shrugs. “It was a first day. It was fine.” He studies my face, no doubt noting the exhaustion written all over it. “How was yours?”
“Good.” No way am I telling my little brother about Logan. Because if I tell him about Logan, I have to admit to having sex with a random guy at a club, and I’m pretty sure that’ssomething most parenting experts would disapprove of. “My boss seems awesome and my coworker is cool. His girlfriend has a nephew your age. They invited us to come over for dinner one night soon.”
“You don’t need to set me up on playdates, you know.” Reed turns to stir the spaghetti, but he’s not fast enough to hide the roll of his eyes.
Playdate. What a little shithead. “I know I don’t, but making friends at a new place is hard. And I’m your big sister. I worry about you. Because I love you.”
“Yeah, yeah. I love you too, but I’m not the one who has trouble making friends. When was the last time you hung out with anyone?”
Touché, little brother, touché. “I hang out with people.”
“Like who? And I don’t count.”
Dammit. “Um, I hung out with a couple of girls from work a month ago.” Definitely can’t tell him about Logan. Also, I don’t think mind-blowing sex with a stranger is what Reed means when he says I don’t hang out with people.
He snorts. “Like I said, I’m not the one you need to worry about. Maybe I should line up some playdates for you.”
Maybe I should let him. It’s not like I don’t already feel pathetic. What’s a little more humiliation on top of everything else? “Did you make any friends today?” I ask, turning it back on him.
