“Better not be asking her out, Tink!” one of the guys calls, “or you’ll lose the bet!”
Tink’s ears turn red as his eyes grow large. “I’m not asking you out,” he says quickly.
I lift an eyebrow, blushing despite his insistence. Or maybe because Logan just went incredibly stiff on the other side of the room. Trying to keep my attention on Tink, I smile. “Because then you’d lose a bet?”
He shrugs. “It’s a whole thing with a few of us. No dating. Money pool. Not important. Um, how much…?” He winces and looks down at the last few tamales. “What does something like that run? You making meals?”
My stomach swivels again, this time out of reluctance instead of whatever it did when I thought about Logan being jealous. Against my will, my eyes jump to Logan yet again and find him watching me with narrowed eyes. “Uh, it depends on what a client’s needs are,” I say, trying to be vague, since this rugby gig doesn’t pay him much.
“What about, uh…” He leans in and drops his voice to a whisper, his words full of hesitation. “Lunches for two?”
I choke on a laugh and drop my volume to match him. “Are you cheating on the bet, Tink? Also, why do they call you Tink?” I’ve heard quite a few nicknames among the Thunder, and most of them are pretty ridiculous.
I wonder what they call Logan.
“I amnotcheating,” Tink says with a decent amount of force behind his whispered words. “But I do have a new roommate, and she’s, uh, not great in the kitchen. I don’t usually have long enough breaks from work to make anything decent, and we’re getting sick of takeout. And charcoal,” he adds under his breath, a bit of annoyance entering his expression. “So what would a week of lunches cost me?”
For some reason, I glance at Logan again as I straighten up. If anything, he’s gotten stiffer. “It depends,” I say again. “The simpler the meal, the cheaper it would be.”
“Right. But would it cost much more than having food delivered from restaurants? We’re already doing that.”
“Probably not?”
“It’s Tinkerbell, by the way.” His hand goes to the back of his head again as his face reddens. “My nickname. Because I’m small.”
I can’t stop my eyes from trailing over his toned body. “You’re not small.”
He chuckles, glancing behind him at the few people left in the room. “Compared to someone like The Hero, I’m tiny. My name’s Noah, but feel free to call me Tink.”
“Who’s The Hero?”
He jerks his head back, gesturing to where Logan’s standing and still watching me like he’s made of stone. “Callahan. I mean, look at him. Dude’s a beast. And somehow still one of the fastest guys on the team,” he adds like a reluctant afterthought. Then he leans his hands on the table and gives me a hard ‘I mean business’ look that almost makes me laugh. He’s serious about this. “So, lunches? Don’t underestimate how much I’m willingto pay to keep Petra out of my kitchen. Anything is better than letting her accidentally burn the building down.”
“Right.” Suddenly I’m glad I don’t have a roommate other than a beastly cat. “Um.” Movement distracts me, and I look up to see Logan stalking toward me with so much intensity in his expression that my thoughts stall. “It’s, uh, it’s easiest to get on my website and fill out a questionnaire.” I pat my pockets as if I might find a business card in them, knowing full well that I didn’t bring any because Logan convinced me no one on the team would be able to afford me. My phone is in the kitchen, so that’s no help, and suddenly I’m blanking on the name of my website like it hasn’t been three years since I bought the domain. “Um, it’s…”
“True Fuel Kitchen,” Logan says, startling Tink with his sudden appearance, though he doesn’t seem to notice because his gray eyes are on me. “Need help getting stuff back to your place, Sav?”
Sav? He’s never called meSavbefore, and heat climbs my neck beneath Logan’s unbreaking gaze. “I was actually wondering if you could take it to your apartment?”
“Whoa,” Tink says, his eyes darting between us. “Are you two—”
“No,” Logan and I say at the same time; mynosounds a lot squeakier than his definitive one. Is it such a bad thing for someone to think there might be something here?
“Logan’s letting me use his kitchen,” I explain, and I’m not sure I manage to keep my disappointment out of my voice.
Tink purses his lips. “Too bad. It would have been nice to get you out of the bet, Hero, but I guess we’ll have to keep taking your money.”
Something tells me Logan was not expecting a comment like that because his brow furrows as a growl rumbles in his chest. “’Scuse me?”
Tink might be taller than me, but Logan stands several inches above him, making him look far smaller than he did a moment ago. His nickname makes more sense now, seeing him next to the wall of perfection that is Logan Callahan. Tink stares up at Logan and slinks back a step before he responds. “Uh, just messing with you, Callahan. May the last man standing win.” He scurries out of the room without another look back, and his laughing buddies follow him, leaving the break room almost empty now.
As soon as they’re gone, I whack my hand against Logan’s arm. “If you cost me a client, so help me…”
“Him?” He scoffs. “I told you, love. None of these guys can aff—”
“What’s his job?” I fold my arms and narrow my eyes.
Logan frowns. “No idea.”
