Ray frowned. “Logan? Why do you call—” Her gaze narrowed and shifted behind my shoulder. “Ugh, look at what the cat dragged in. And I thought he was just being considerate when he texted me, asking if you were okay. Didn’t they have a party going on? Don’t tell me they’re out hunting for new tails.”
At her sarcastic tone, I hid my smile, mostly because she was right. I didn’t bother to turn because I’d already seen my friends roll into the place in the mirrored bar wall.
Jack appeared in front of me, blocking my view of Logan. “Hey, bud, you good?”
“Yeah. Where’s the cat?”
“What?”
I bit off a grin. Shook my head. “What are you doing here? Party not interesting enough?” I angled my head and looked around him to the entrance. And tipped my bottle at said cat, War, who was waylaid at the door by his hockey groupies.
Jack shrugged. “It was your party, not mine. After you left, Marie called, andthatruined my mood. So I texted Rayen, and she said you were here.”
“More like you barked at me,” Ray retorted.
“You can’tbarkwith text messages, Bug,” Jack said, taking the empty stool next to me. He was a year older, in his final year, and doing the same business degree I’d walked away from.
“Stop calling me that. And sure you can, Griffin. ‘WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU TWO?’ The proof is in the caps used.”
He laughed. She shot him a glower, then went back to toying with the bartender.
“What’s going on with Marie?” I asked him. His sister had walked out on her slime ball husband, who wasted his time playing golf, went through her trust fund like it was water, and couldn’t keep his dick chained. Jack was supposed to leave in the morning for Carmel, probably to go smash in his face.
A tick worked Jack’s jaw. “She told me not to come. She’s gonna try and work things out with that musclehead.”
“She should just give him the boot, I say,” War countered, joining us.
Eli Warrick, aka War—so nicknamed by his teammates because the guy was chaos on the ice when in the game, possessive as shit with his puck, and currently on a two-game probation for punching a teammate out cold—squeezed in beside Ray and stole her soda.
She punched his arm. He whimpered and then laughed. I ordered another round to settle their fight.
My attention shifted back to Logan and her landlady. As they rose, a tall, dusky-skinned woman with shaggy, dark hair stepped in front of Logan.
She froze, looking like someone had punched her in the stomach.
“Shit!” Ray cursed from my side.
“Who is she?”
“No one.”
“Yeah, and I’mPlaygirl’s centerfold.”
When Ray didn’t respond with her usual snarky remarks, I knew the tall girl was bad news. The next minute, Ray jumped off her stool and headed for her sister.
The landlady touched Logan’s arm and said something. Logan blinked, then shook her head and sidestepped the tall woman who wore a small, triumphant smirk. Logan’s expression was smooth and calm once more. But her smile appeared forced when she saw Ray. Words were exchanged, then she shook her head and followed her landlady out.
What the hell was that all about? Usually, I’m a ‘mind my own biz’ kinda guy. But Logan’s expression tugged at some chivalrous part of me I didn’t know I possessed.
Ray appeared at my side, anger in her gaze. “Max, I’m gonna go. Ila has a headache. Mrs. Renner’s giving her a lift home.”
Headache? Yeah, one caused by the shaggy-haired woman no doubt.
“I still gotta go get more milk and Oreos, or Ila will disown me since I finished hers. Then she’d send me back to my folks, who are trying desperately to get me involved with the opposite sex—God, who wants that? Well, except, of course, if it’s Nicholas Hoult, but that’s neither here nor there. Do you want my key to get in?”
“No, I’m coming.”
“Whoa, Max, you’re going withher?” War’s mouth slacked open, appearing shocked out of his drunken mind. “You need earplugs?”
