by Ella Frank
Well, he has a point. Tate had been flirting with him earlier when he thought the guy was gay and interested enough to give him a good tip. Yeah, joke’s on me. Now that Tate knew Logan thought he was hot, Tate was thinking that flirting hadn’t been such a great idea. He was actually thinking it would be a very dangerous one, if he continued.
“It’s part of my job, I guess,” Tate tried explaining.
As soon as an I-don’t-believe-you expression crossed Logan’s face, Tate knew that whatever was about to come next would be highly inappropriate.
So, Tate interrupted. “Do you want another drink?”
Logan inclined his head forward, “Yes, please.”
Tate was relieved that Logan had let the conversation go, and turned away quickly. He went about making his drink, all the while telling himself to pull his shit together. The guy was just confident and went after what he wanted.
Right now, he’s playing with me because he thinks I was talking shit about him. I will not let him get to me. At least he doesn’t know my name.
Tate moved back to the bar and slid the drink across the counter. He watched as Logan’s large hand stopped the glass.
He lifted it in a mock salute. “Thanks for the drink, Tate.”
Tate narrowed his eyes on the laughing ones looking back at him, and he couldn’t help the annoyance bubbling up inside of him. Logan knew my name all along.
“By the way, Stacy was right about you grabbing my attention, but the next time you gossip, you should do it quietly.”
Tate had nothing to say to that. Instead of trying to come up with anything, he turned on his heel and made his way down the bar to the other waiting customers, getting as far away from Logan as he could get.
* * *
Logan took another sip of his drink, enjoying himself immensely.
Tate. He now had a name to go with the currently bewildered face. Poor guy. Logan knew he was sending out more mixed signals than a broken down traffic light, but fuck, he was having fun. With every cryptic comment he had thrown, Logan could see the questions running through the man’s mind.
Well, let him wonder, and while he’s wondering, I’m going to concentrate on watching.
Tate hadn’t punched him yet, so that was a plus. No, Tate had almost flirted. It wasn’t until he’d realized how interested Logan was, that things had changed. That was when Tate had backed off.
Logan always went after what he wanted though. That was half of his problem. He had no boundaries. Thanks, Mom. Throughout his life, his mom had been so busy apologizing to him for his worthless sperm donor of a father that Logan had pretty much done whatever he’d wanted to.
But wanting this guy? That was a stupid choice in every way.
First, Logan had no clue if the guy was single. Second, every indication thus far had proven Tate was one hundred percent straight.
So, what the fuck am I doing?
He stood, getting ready to leave, when Tate turned and started walking toward him.
Logan stopped what he was doing and took a moment to admire the way he moved. Long legs encased in black slacks confidently stepped across the space with a purely masculine stride, but the look on his face was not half as certain. He looked worried.
He stopped in front of Logan. “I hope I haven’t offended you in any way tonight, sir.”
Aw, he thinks he pissed off a customer.
It was a pity he couldn’t just say, Relax, Tate. I want to see you naked, not fired.
Instead, Logan took his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out some money. Placing it on the bar, he said, “The only offensive thing you did tonight was forget my name. It’s Logan, not sir. Well, at least it is in this setting.” He pushed his wallet back into his pocket.
Tate shook his head. “There you go again.”
“Excuse me?”
“Being inappropriate,” he pointed out.
Logan hadn’t even realized. “Ah yes, it’s a curse.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
That response intrigued Logan more than he should allow. “What else have you noticed?”
Tate picked up the empty glass. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Okay…” Logan lifted his cell and quickly dialed a number. “You keep telling yourself that.”
Raising the phone to his ear, Logan winked at the silent man standing opposite him.
I don’t care if I have to be here every fucking night. I’m going to have him.
Chapter Three
Day three at 11:01 p.m., and Logan still hasn’t shown.
I definitely pissed him off last night. Tate toweled down the top of the bar where one of the customers had gotten sloppy. If only he’d kept his mouth shut and done his damn job, he would have a regular customer who tipped big. But I couldn’t do that, could I? What do I care about the personal lives of my customers? Usually, he didn’t care at all. He wasn’t the type to gossip, but damn, this Logan guy had deliberately provoked him.
Screw it. Just move on.
At least Logan hadn’t reported him. That was a bonus. Tate had been worried about coming into work this afternoon, only to find out he no longer had a job, but that hadn’t been the case. So, he pushed aside his annoyance and got busy with the Friday night crowd. The fact that the suit hadn’t shown up was bothering him, and that was really starting to piss him off.
It wasn’t as if someone who had slept with nearly the entire staff of women and a few of the men would be sitting around here on a Friday night.
And why am I still thinking about it? Jesus, move on already man.
It didn’t help that before he’d shown up at work, he’d received a call from Diana, who proceeded to tell him that she’d just gotten engaged. That, of course, meant that everything between them needed to be resolved now, and the divorce she’d been putting off would be finalized. Diana had claimed she was doing him a favor by calling, and she’d wanted him to hear it from her first instead of finding out from someone else, or worse, his parents since they all still talked.
How fucking nice for them to all remain friendly. Granted, Tate’s sister had been best friends with Diana before they got married. But where is the damn loyalty? And how on earth did she find some other schmuck to take her on? It’s only been a little over a year. Well, as far as he was concerned, she could go and suck the schmuck as much as she wanted. I’m free now.
Tonight just needed to be written off. It was going down the shitter for sure.
While grabbing a bottle of water for himself, he observed the door being pulled open, and Logan stepping inside.
Tate couldn’t decide if he was relieved the guy had shown or if he was worried about what would come out of Logan’s mouth once he was seated. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to be dicked around, and this guy seemed to push his buttons—and he delighted in the pushing.
Watching objectively as Logan made his way through the crowd, Tate noticed he looked different this evening. The glasses were gone, and he was in jeans and a black V-neck shirt. Although the outfit looked casual, Tate was pretty sure each item of clothing was designer-made. Logan must’ve shrugged his coat off outside because he was holding it down by his leg as he shouldered through everyone, including several women who turned to look him over.
As he got closer, Tate was astounded by the sexual confidence and pull that Logan exuded. It was so obvious and potent that Tate knew Logan could have any pick of the women he wanted. Finally, he made it to the bar and sat down in his usual spot, immediately seeking out Tate and inclining his head in his direction.
Making sure not to give any reaction at all, Tate casually tipped his head back and took a gulp of water, securing his fingers around the bottle. He had always thought of himself as self-assured, someone who knew his way around, especially when it came to playing the game of cat and mouse. He made a living off of it. He was always the cat that never caught the mouse, but he sure played with it for a while to make good money. But in this scenario, with this
guy, Tate found himself feeling a lot like the mouse—and that pissed him off.
Pulling the bottle from his mouth, he noticed that Logan’s focus was still on him. He twisted the cap back on and placed the bottle on the bench behind the bar, wondering if he could get the upper hand back. He made his way toward the end of the bar, but just before he got there, Amelia, one of the girls he was scheduled to work with regularly, grabbed his arm.
Tate looked down at her and found wide brown eyes sparkling back at him.
She gave him her best please smile. “Do you mind if I take him?”
Trying to think of a good reason to say no, considering the last two nights Logan had tipped him extremely well, Tate, instead, came up with nothing. “Sure, go ahead.”
Amelia leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re the best.”
Then, she walked down the bar with an extra sway in her step right before she stopped and leaned across the counter to greet Logan.
* * *
Fuck. Logan watched as Amelia intercepted Tate and made her way over to him.
“I was wondering if you’d be back in this week. I haven’t had a chance to see you.”
Logan tried to be polite as he turned his vision to the blonde, who had been in his bed a couple of times, but all he wanted—and all he had wanted for the last three days—was currently at the other end of the bar, laughing and smiling at someone else. It was wise to note, Logan supposed, that the other someone had long brown hair and was wearing a rather revealing dress. She was also currently touching what Logan wanted to touch.
Focusing back on Amelia, Logan gave her a friendly wink. “You know me. I’m always in at least three nights a week.”
“I know.” She giggled as though she was embarrassed she’d given away how much she wanted to see him. “It’s just, each time you’ve come in this week, Tate has snagged you before I had the chance.”
“Hmm, yes, the new guy,” Logan mused.
Tate had definitely snagged him, and as he looked beyond Amelia’s shoulder, he noticed that Tate had turned to the back of the bar to grab a liquor bottle from one of the top shelves. As he reached above his head, the snug vest pulled his shirt from his pants, revealing a smooth strip of tanned skin.
Logan licked his lips, wondering just how good Tate would taste. His olive skin was such a delicious complexion. It was definitely natural because, in Chicago, no one looked like that coming out of winter unless it was natural. And I’m volunteering to inspect every fucking inch of him as soon as possible.
As Tate placed the bottle on the bench, he turned his head as if he felt Logan scrutinizing him, and Logan couldn’t help but give in to the urge to openly check him out. He trailed his gaze down Tate’s long frame, at least six feet, and as he came back up in his overtly sexual once-over, he made sure to connect with the disconcerted eyes staring back at him.
Logan offered nothing in the way of his thoughts, which were all centered on getting Tate out of his clothes and his cock into Logan’s mouth, as he turned back to Amelia, who was still chatting about—
Shit, what is she talking about?
“So, what do you want to drink tonight?”
Wow, I’ve been coming here for years, and I order the same thing every time, yet she still asks. Funny, Tate just assumed after the first night, and his assumptions so far have been correct.
That made Logan wonder, What exactly is he assuming right now?
* * *
What was that all about?
Tate was shocked to find his hand was shaking as he placed the bottle on the bench, taking a moment to look in the mirror behind the bar. He just stared at himself.
Breathe, you idiot, and let it go. He’s just trying to rattle you.
Going back to making his customer’s drink, Tate poured what he needed, added a wedge of lemon and then turned back to whom he was currently serving. He decided that the minute he was free, he was going to go talk to Logan. He wouldn’t let Logan mess with his job or his head, and Tate was determined to find out if he had anything to worry about after last night.
Around fifteen minutes later, there was a break in the service, and Tate started to make his way down to where Logan was sitting. Taking a breath, he reminded himself that this was just some random guy he hadn’t even known four days ago. But as he got closer, he could have sworn he felt his palms grow clammy at the expression aimed his way.
When he finally reached the end of the bar, he noticed the glass in front of Logan was empty. “Another?”
“Is it polite to poach another bartender’s customer?”
Tate really wasn’t in the mood to play games tonight, so instead of answering him, he rested against the counter and crossed his arms. “Fine. No drink.”
“And no small talk, I see,” Logan pointed out as he tilted his head to the side. “Something wrong?”
It annoyed Tate that he noticed how blue Logan’s eyes were, and he thought that maybe Logan was wearing tinted contacts. Tate knew they sold that shit because Diana had liked to wear the green ones.
“Not really in the mood tonight,” Tate answered with a shrug.
“Really? You seemed to be doing okay with the brunette over there.”
Tate could have sworn that within that comment, he detected a hint of—
What? Jealousy?
“Well, the brunette was easy, and I know she wouldn’t report me for anything I might say.”
Tate watched Logan lean back and mirror his pose by crossing his arms, which in turn made Tate notice how broad Logan’s shoulders and chest were under the short-sleeved shirt.
Funny how misleading a suit can be.
“You think I’m going to report you?”
Tate looked around and then shook his head slightly. “I have no idea what you are going to do.”
“I think I might take that other drink,” Logan decided, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Without a word, Tate turned to get him his usual and then pushed it across the bar. Before he could remove his hand from the glass, Logan closed his fingers over his, and Tate jerked his head up. Tate couldn’t mistake the sexual invitation in that stare. Logan had worn the same expression when he’d looked Tate over only moments earlier.
“For the record, I would never report you, and I’m probably the easiest person sitting at this bar tonight—for you, anyway.”
Tate tried to remind himself that women and men had every right to hit on whomever they were attracted to, and he had no problem with that. His current problem was how to react to being so blatantly pursued.
“I don’t understand you. You pick a woman one week and a guy the next? So…” Tate trailed off, wondering what exactly he was asking.
When Tate felt Logan’s hand finally move away from his own, he quickly released the glass as if it were on fire. He watched Logan intently as he lifted the drink to his lips, seemingly contemplating the question.
After taking a sip of the liquor, Logan lowered the glass slowly. “So…I like to try a little bit of everything and everyone.”
The words sank into Tate’s head, settling in, and then they started to make a whole lot more sense—until Logan, as usual, threw another can of gasoline on the fire.
“I’d like to try you.”
* * *
Logan monitored Tate’s face closely as he seemed to digest exactly what he’d just said. First came the shock, his face flushed, and Logan almost laughed. The embarrassment though was accompanied by such a look of bewilderment as if he didn’t know what the fuck to say.
Logan decided to let him off the hook. “It’s okay, Tate. I don’t expect an answer, but I thought it best to be up front, considering…”
Out came the white towel, and Logan stared at it as Tate ran it between his hands.
“Considering? Considering what?”
“Considering you seemed so confused when, really, there is nothing to be confused about.”
“Except for the fact that I’m st
raight,” Tate finally announced.
Logan toyed with his glass for a moment before he conceded. “Yes, well, I don’t let little things like that stand in my way.”
Tate started laughing and seemed to regain his footing as Logan let the robust sounds reverberate through him.
“You’re full of confidence, I’ll give you that. But I have to tell you, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Am I?” Logan responded quickly.
“Yes. I just got out of a horrible marriage. Even if I were interested, why would I try something with you? Last night, you told me yourself that you’ve fucked everyone I work with. Now, I’m just wondering which women and which men.”
Logan, not the least bit deterred, lifted his glass. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Well, I can just ask them all and cause mass anarchy in the After Hours ranks.”
“You could. Or you could get to know me better and ask me again at a more appropriate time.”
Tate’s dark brow rose in suspicion. “And when would that be?”
Logan knew that Tate was expecting something sexual to come out of his mouth, so he leaned in close, and he was delighted when Tate followed suit. He wondered for a moment if Tate even realized he did it.
“When Amelia isn’t making her way over here to kick your ass.”
Logan gave him a shit-eating grin and sat back as Tate turned to see exactly what he had been referring to.
* * *
Tate focused on his coworker, who was glaring up at him as if he had stolen her personal property, while he tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. Amelia was a good distraction really, as she stepped around and ignored him completely, only to smile at the man who was currently baffling the shit out of him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize your glass was empty, Logan.”
Tate didn’t know why, but the fact that she used his first name irritated him. It also made it abundantly clear that she had definitely been one of the coworkers who had been fucked—and thankful.
“It’s fine, hon. Tate and I were just talking guy stuff.”
We were? News to me. Tate glared at Logan, from where he stood beside Amelia.
