My head tells me to give the man a wide berth, but my traitorous body thrums with anticipation when he’s near. It’s very confusing.
“So.” Bryse sticks his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels as he glances at me. “Is something happening between you and Logan? There seems to be some…tension between the two of you.”
An undignified snort erupts from me before I can stop it. “If by tension, you mean he clearly hates my guts, and I want nothing more than to avoid him at all costs, then yes, there is tension. And no, there is nothinghappeningwith us.”
Even if part of me wanted to explore something with Logan, there’s too much weirdness between us. We had one night of epic sex, and that’s it. For whatever reason, he’s since decided that I’m the enemy, and no amount of great sex is worth dealing with that kind of behavior.
The teasing smirk drops from Bryson’s face as turns to look at me fully. “Are you sure? Because sometimes he looks at you like he wants to devour you in a sexy way, and sometimes he looks at you like he wants to devour you in a very non-sexyI can’t stand herway, and I’m concerned.”
My throat tightens slightly. Bryson is becoming one of my friends, but he’s also my coworker, and even though I don’t know the full story behind why my predecessor was fired, I do know it had to do with relationships with one or more of the players. The very last thing I want is for Bryse, or anyone else I work with, to believe I’m skipping down the same path.
I can’t lose this job.
“You don’t have to worry,” I reassure myself as much as him. “I’ve hung out with a few of the players’ wives and girlfriends a couple times, so we’ve run into each other outside of work, but Logan’s mostly indifferent to me. I would never risk my place here by blurring those lines.”
Bryson frowns. “Blair, you know there are no ru?—”
“Hey, Blair, can you help me with something for a minute?”
Relieved to have this conversation interrupted before it turns into a potential problem for me, I smooth my hands over my slacks and offer Bryson a shaky smile. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.”
Striding over to the photographer, I try to calm my nerves. “Hey, Greg. What can I help you with?”
The photographer waves Logan over, and that’s when I notice the blond hockey player is holding the little Yorkie as far away from his body as he can. There’s a yellow puddle on the ice behind him, and his skates shine with what has to be puppy pee. It’s a battle to keep myself from giggling.
One I lose.
After stealing a glance at Logan’s pinched face, I focus on the yipping dog, who is obviously not happy about being held away from the man it was previously licking affectionately. “Did someone have an accident?”
“She peed all over my skates.”
“You can’t help it, can you, baby?” I coo at the puppy. She gives me a happy little bark in response, and my grin grows. “Poor thing. Now the big, angry Viking is tossing you aside, huh?”
Greg coughs, trying to hide his laughter as one of the assistants rush over with a towel to clean Logan’s skates.
“Her legs and tail are covered in pee,” Logan grumbles. “She’s shivering and cold.”
Oh.Oh.
When my gaze rises to meet Logan’s, I suck in a breath at the intensity I find there. I still don’t know why he’s pissed at me, but I’m not delusional enough to convince myself that I don’t see the heat that also flares in those steely gray irises. A silent moment passes between us, and I clear my throat and look away when Greg chuckles again.
“Think you could switch this little lady out with a different puppy, Blair? We don’t quite have it yet.”
“Of course.” I carefully take the Yorkie from Logan’s hands and scurry over to the puppy pen, my heart thrumming in my chest at warp speed. Why does he affect me like this? Stealing a glance at Bryson, I find him watching the interaction with a frown, and I have to take a long, deep breath to keep my handsfrom shaking. I don’t think he would rat me out to Tess, but that’s also not a risk I am willing or able to take.
I don’t even need to consider which puppy to grab once I’ve handed the Yorkie over to one of the shelter workers who begins to clean her up. My hands find Pugsly, and I cradle him to my chest as I straighten up and turn on my heel. His thrumming heart and warm body help calm my raging nerves.
“Here you go,” I murmur, holding the puppy out to Logan.
The winger searches my face, blowing out a deep breath before he reaches for the pug. I shiver when Logan’s fingers skim mine, and his eyebrows furrow. I swear, he’s trying to see inside my soul, and I shiver again. “Thanks, Blair.”
The deep rumble of his words skates over my skin like a caress. When I realize his fingers are still touching mine, I pull away. My skin tingles where we touched, and I fist my hands at my sides, pasting on a smile I hope looks confident.
“Of course. Greg, let me know if you need anything else.” Then, like the coward I am, I scurry away from Logan’s long fingers and intense stare.
I don’t look at him again for the rest of the shoot.
The bleachers arecold when I flop onto them after work. Reed waves when he notices me, but his focus quickly shifts back to the coach and his instructions.
