Sierra sighed. “We’ve been wondering if…?”
Everyone was silent, their expressions sheepish.
“Oh, for the love of— Just spit it out,” Sam declared.
“Is there something going on between Elijah and Logan?” McKenna blurted.
Sam froze, glass midway to her mouth. “What do you mean?”
Mercedes said, “We … uh … might’ve noticed they’re acting a little differently around each other.”
Sam cocked one eyebrow, waited for them to clarify. She knew exactly what they were hinting at, but she had no intentions of spilling the beans because, as far as she was concerned, their interactions were no one else’s business.
Of course, if her friends could narrow it down, perhaps she could use that as the opening necessary to talk about it.
God, she wanted to talk about it. It killed her not to blurt it out and get their opinions, but she respected Logan and Elijah too much to gossip about something so intimate. She had no qualms talking about her own sexual encounters with her men, but that was different. Talking about the wicked things they did to her was a far cry from revealing the fact that her men might be bisexual.
Not that anyone at this table would judge them for it. They all had their various sexual proclivities, and as a group, they embraced them. That was one of the things Sam loved most about her circle of friends. They encouraged one another to be open about who they were.
“Different how?” she asked, reaching for one of the quickly dwindling chips.
“Did they have a fight?” McKenna asked.
“No, why?”
“Because when they’re around, it’s like watching two prizefighters gearing up for a showdown,” Ashleigh explained.
She gulped down her margarita, reached for another chip. She’d noticed it, too, though she wouldn’t describe it quite like that. Perhaps there was a little more distance than before the night in the cabin, but there was no toe-to-toe snorting and posturing.
“Maybe they’re just getting used to sleeping in the same bed,” Sierra said. “I mean, two men who’ve slept alone for so long. It’s probably weird for them.”
Oh, Sam didn’t thinkthatwas the problem.
“Did they sleep in the same bed last night?” McKenna sounded more like the award-winning journalist she was, gearing up to write an article, than a curious friend.
Sam shrugged, studied the near-empty bowl of chips, the variety of salsas that came with it. At anything except for the inquisitive eyes peering back at her. She honestly didn’t know. She had texted them both last night and had intended to call them this morning when she woke up, but their appointment at the spa had been the reason she’d crawled out of bed when she had. She hadn’t yet had a chance to call and ask them that exact question.
“Wouldn’t that be weird for them?” Ashleigh asked, eyebrows lowering as though she was mentally picturing it. “Without you there?”
Sam reached for her margarita, finished it off, wished the waiter would swing by with another pronto.
“Samantha McCoy,” Sierra hissed, leaning forward. “Whataren’tyou telling us?”
Oh, boy.
Sam scrambled for something to say that would make sense and not give away Logan and Elijah’s secret. It would be wrong on so many levels for her to out them, even with her friends.
“She’s definitely keeping something from us,” Mercedes decided.
“First, we need to pinpoint when this began,” McKenna said, glancing between the others. “Then we might be able to narrow it down to an event.”
Sam shook her head. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?” Sierra looked affronted. “Is there something wrong? Something you don’twantus to know?”
Sam opted for the truth. Well, a partial truth, anyway.
“There’s nothing wrong, and yes, there’s something I’m not telling you.” She hated the crestfallen looks her friends gave her. “Not because I don’t want to,” she added. “It’s just not my place.”
