“Right.” I chuckle, looking down at the little pug in my arms. “Don’t get peed on. We don’t want to make more work for the photographer when they have to photoshop wet spots away.”
The guys snicker, breaking away to coo at wiry terriers and adorable mutts. It is, quite possibly, the cutest scene I have ever witnessed. These men are massive, especially on skates, and I’ve seen them slam their opponents into the boards. Yet here they are, baby-talking a bunch of puppies and pressing kisses to furry muzzles. Luckily, the social media coordinator is all over it, and I’m sure the footage he shoots will break the internet here in Minnesota for a few days.
“Pugs have always been one of my favorite dogs,” a deep, quiet voice says, startling me out of my thoughts.
Heart pounding, I turn to find Logan grinning at the little guy in my arms. He reaches out to pet him but stops short, glancing up at me, as if making sure I’m okay with him being so close. I’m not—my heartbeat is quick and my breathing feels shallow—but I’ll never let him know that. So I offer the Viking a smile and hope he can’t tell how much he affects me. I’m not scared of Logan Byrne being close because I hate him; I’m scared to let him get close because, despite his assholery, I’m still attracted to him.
“Mine too,” I admit. “Their little smooshed-in faces get me every time.”
We fall silent as Logan reaches out and strokes his fingers over the wrinkly muzzle of the dog in my arms. If he notices me stealing glances at him, he doesn’t let on.
I just can’t figure him out. He’s been such a jerk, but it almost seems like he’s trying to be nice since that night when I went painting with the girls and then hung out with them all at thebar. And when I say it seems like he’strying, I mean that it looks like he’s actively fighting against his instinct to be a pompous jerk.
It must be physically painful.
Logan clears his throat. “Do you have any pets?”
“No. I’d love to have a dog, but it just wouldn’t be fair. I’m not home enough, and it would be lonely.” Pugsly snorts in my arms as he licks Logan’s fingers. The poor things aren’t built to breathe easily, that’s for sure. “Maybe someday.”
When I look up, I’m startled to find Logan’s gray gaze fixed intently on me. His expression is unreadable—a cocktail of emotions I can’t parse. And I’m not sure I want to. My stomach does a little flip. “Do you have pets?”
“Nah. We’re on the road all the time. And I never had one as a kid, so I wouldn’t know the first thing about taking care of an animal.”
Well, that’s sad. I don’t like the way my chest gives a little squeeze at his quiet admission, or that when Logan’s brow furrows and a frown overtakes his face, he looks sad enough that I want to comfort him.
This man does not need my pity.
Still, there’s something young and broken about his expression that has the frosty exterior I always maintain with him thawing.
I open my mouth to say something—what, I’m not sure—when Bryson’s big body appears beside me, his elbow on my shoulder as he leans in and coos at Pugsly.
“Aren’t you just the cutest? And so good with the ladies too. But I don’t blame you for liking Blair. She’s pretty cool, isn’t she?”
Bryse and I have become friends. We’ve even hung out a few times outside of work when Adrienne invited Reed and me to grab dinner after the boys were done with football practice.Bryson is cool, and I like him even more because he’s obviously madly in love with Adrienne. Plus, he’s started to act like how I imagine an older brother would. Not that he’s that much older than I am. Still, it’s nice, and I enjoy our banter.
“Ignore him, Pugsly. He’s just trying to butter me up so I’ll agree when he asks me to do something he doesn’t want to do this week.”
Bryson gasps in faux outrage, holding a hand to his chest. “Rude. And totally not true.”
I roll my eyes because his impish smile says otherwise.
Logan frowns, his attention bouncing between Bryson and me. As I watch, his expression shutters, and I’m left wondering if that quiet moment of vulnerability was all in my head.
“Right. Let’s get this show on the road, please? Some of us have things we need to take care of and can’t stand around goofing off all day.” Logan rolls his eyes and stomps off toward his friends, leaving me utterly confused.
Bryson frowns as I rub the ache in my chest. “What the hell crawled up his ass and died?”
I wish I knew. And I wish it wasn’t always one step forward, ten steps back with Logan Byrne.
“Whatever it is, let’s hope it makes a puppy take a bite out of him.”
seventeen
BLAIR
Unfortunately,no puppies take a bite out of Logan. They nibble his fingers and lick his face, but the furry little traitors seem just as enamored with him as the female employees from Happy Tails.
The worst part? I can’t even blame them. My damned ovaries are about to burst as I watch the normally surly Viking smile and laugh as he cradles a furry little Yorkie mix. It’s annoying and confusing because I can’t figure Logan out. One minute, he’s a raging dickhead, and the next he’s confessing his unfulfilled childhood dreams. He’s smiling at me, then he’s glaring as if I kicked his wished-for puppy.
