“You talking shit about me?” Reed asks with a smirk.
“Quit swearing!” I playfully push Reed, or I try to. He’s big enough now that my efforts barely move him.
Logan is clearly fighting laughter as he opens the door and waves us inside. I’m immediately hit with the savory scent of bone broth and spices, and my eyes widen when I take in the colorful decor. The tables are old and well-loved looking, the chairs are painted in every color of the rainbow, and there are beautiful tapestries hanging on the exposed brick walls. What the restaurant lacks in charm on the exterior, it more than makes up for inside.
“Mr. Logan!” A jovial older man bustles out from the kitchen, his face lit up as he extends a hand, which Logan takes. “So good to see you again. And you’ve brought some friends.”
“Hey, Mr. Phan, it’s good to see you too. How’s the family?”
Whoisthis charming, kind man? The Logan I’ve known since moving to Minneapolis is taciturn and arrogant. This Logan is…surprising.
“Good, good,” Mr. Phan replies as he leads the three of us to a table in the corner. “My granddaughter made the chamber choir. We’re very proud.”
“That’s awesome. Has she had any concerts yet?”
“Not yet, but they always have a holiday concert, and Lucy is very excited about it. Now, please, can I get you some tea or soda?” The kindly man looks expectantly between the three of us, waiting for our answer.
“Can I get a Coke?” Reed asks, picking the menu up off the table and scanning the photos.
“And I’d love a cup of tea,” I say.
Logan smiles at Mr. Phan. “Two teas, please.”
“Coming right up. Take a look at the menu, and I’ll be right back to answer any questions you may have.”
We say our thanks, then fall silent as the three of us read the menus. Everything looks delicious. There’s pho, bhán mì, fried rice, and every other delicious Vietnamese dish I could have hoped for. I should try something a bit more adventurous, but chicken pho sounds so good. It’s what I always get.
Mr. Phan brings our drinks and an order of fresh spring rolls, then takes our orders. I surreptitiously watch Logan as he interacts with the older man. Or at least, I think I’m being stealthy until Reed elbows me.
“Why are you staring at him like that?” he whispers.
“Shut up. I’m not staring.”
“You are. And your face looks weird.”
“I will put laxatives in your protein shakes if you don’t knock it off,” I hiss.
Reed barks out a laugh but thankfully knocks it off before Logan finishes his conversation with Mr. Phan. Squirming in my seat, I feel out of place and awkward once the restaurant owner walks away with our orders, leaving the three of us alone.
“So,” I start, clearing my throat as I meet Logan’s gaze, “thanks for showing Reed around. That was very nice of you.”
“No problem. He’s a cool kid. I didn’t realize he was your brother.”
I arch one eyebrow. “Because he’s cool and I’m not?”
Reed snorts beside me, but Logan just smiles, not rising to take the bait.
“Fishing for compliments?”
This time, Reed practically chokes on his Coke. I slap his back hard and glare at my little brother before turning my ire on the stupidly handsome hockey player.
“Not even a little,” I say with syrupy sweetness. Hopefully, it hides how annoyed I am by that comment. How does this man throw me off-kilter so easily? It’s infuriating. So he has a pierced dick that he knows how to use? In every other way, he’s deficient. A pompous, self-absorbed asshole who thinks so highly of himself that he actually believed I followed him from California to Minnesota. I mean, honestly, that level of ego should be studied.
“Sure,” Logan replies. His Cheshire grin makes me want to slap him. Or kiss him. No, definitely slap him.
The thing is, I don’t feel cool, and no, I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, but I can’t deny that it would be nice to receive one every now and again. Because I used to be cool. Before our parents died, I used to have friends—lots of them—and I always had plans. I dated plenty in high school and at the start of collegebefore things with Noah got serious. I was confident and bold, and the world was filled with possibilities.
Now, I’m exhausted, serious, and I don’t have time to date around or even have many friends. Not that I’ve had prospects for either camp knocking down my door in the last five years. Hell, Logan was the first man I’d slept with in years, and Adrienne and the WAGS are the first women who’ve genuinely pursued a friendship with me in atleastthat long…
