by S. M. Smith
Although I think I’d welcome the distraction, I set my phone to Do Not Disturb before setting it on the oak coffee table in front of me. Logan finally steps into the room and I have to force myself not to stare. Even with the brooding look of doom over his chiseled features, he’s still an attractive man. Everything about the way he moves is mesmerizing, fluid and graceful. I know from the countless games I’ve watched both on screen and on the sidelines, this is a common trait of professional players. They have to be confident in every move they make to ensure their safety, and it seems that Logan never shuts that trait off.
“Everything okay?” Logan’s deep voice pulls me from—oh shoot! I was staring. Still staring, really.
“Um, yeah. Just trying to decide where I want to start.” I still can’t tear my gaze away from him as I watch his extensive hands brace himself and his bulging muscles as he lowers himself into an armchair.
“Where do you normally start?” The question barely registers until my gaze meets his concerned eyes.
“Uh…um. Well…” Come on, Allie, get it together. “Well, I normally start with asking for five things that most people don’t know about you, but seeing as how no one knows anything about you, that seems like an ambiguous question.”
I think I hear him snort, but I really need to get my bearings back, so I don’t look back at him.
“That’s not true. Plenty of people know many things about me.”
My turn to snort. Without thinking about it, I look up to find him smirking at me. “Your definition of plenty and mine must vary significantly.”
“Hmm.” He licks his lips and tries to suppress a smile. Something deep inside tightens and I have to remind myself that it doesn’t matter how attractive I find Logan or his little mannerisms, I wouldn’t act on my attraction for anything in the world. Nothing. “Well, why don’t you just tell me what you know about me so far and I’ll try to fill in a few more details.”
Is he joking with me now? “Hmm. Well I could spout off all of your high school, college and pro stats, but that’s not what I’m here to get.”
Another suppressed smile that causes a rumbling in my gut. Sheesh.
“I know you’re a stickler for wearing jeans on your ranch.”
“That’s really for your own safety. Snakes are kind of a common thing around here.”
“Isn’t that dangerous to your cattle and ranch hands?”
He steeples his hands in front of his face as he gives me a patronizing look. “Is that really what you want to talk about, Allie?”
The stubborn part of me wants to say something about how that if he wants to talk cattle, then I’ll take what I can get, but I doubt that will get me what I need to get this article done.
“Fine. You’re a morning person.” A curious brow pops up on his tanned face, but he doesn’t say anything so I continue. “You’re much more amicable in the morning.” This earns me a laugh, and man is it delightful.
“You might be onto something there. I do like the morning. Something about starting each day anew, it’s…liberating.” His shoulders relax a bit and my hopes that this could go so much better than I have been anticipating skyrocket.
“You’re also a health nut. That smoothie looked completely gross and anyone in their right mind would only drink it if they were conscientious of what they’re putting in their body.”
Is that blush on those high cheeks?
“I have to be. I can’t just allow myself to indulge in whatever like some of the guys do. I have to be in tip-top condition so I can run 40 yards in 4.34 seconds.”
Valid point.
“So you don’t ever indulge in anything? Not even your momma’s home-cooking?”
He narrows his eyes, but they lack seriousness, urging me to keep on it. I lay my pen down on my notepad and stare back at him, prepared to wait him out. I don’t have to wait long.
“Tacos. Enchiladas. Tex-Mex food in general, really. But the more authentic it is, the more I’m a sucker.”
Pressing my lips together to avoid smiling at him, I nod and pick my pen back up. I sense him lean over my writing as I jot down a note. Peering up at him through my lashes I ask, “Something wrong?”
“Nope.” He watches as my hand continues to scribble out my newfound knowledge. When I sit back up his stony face is back in expressionless order.
“You’re dedicated to your family. I wasn’t here an hour and you’d spoken to your parents at least twice and were on your way to go assist them with their farm, leaving your own ranch to your guys here to take care of it. You love your sisters, are super protective of them both. But…”
This time, I don’t know if I can look at him when I bring this up. I know that the last time anyone asked Logan about him, that interview didn’t end up nearly as well as any of my interactions so far with Logan have.
“But?” I can hear his jaw clenching without even looking at him. When I do, I’m not disappointed.
“Listen, I’ll be upfront. People are going to want to know what the deal is with your brother—” He starts to stand so I do the same. “Logan, hear me out.”
“Nope. We’re done for the night.” His quick legs easily weave his way out of the furniture and leap him up onto the main floor with little effort.
“I don’t want to talk about him right now.” This makes him stop but he takes a moment before he finally turns to face me.
“But you’re eventually going to want to. So I’ll be up front with you. I have nothing to say about Drew. We don’t get along, and we have a mutual understanding to not speak to or about one another. End of topic.”
“I can’t not ask. Nothing has ever been reported—”
“I said I have nothing to say, Allie. We’re done for the night.”
He turns and heads down the hall that leads to a few closed doors and the gym. He opens the door to the left and enters without so much as a backward glance.
Well, that went well.
Chapter Six
There is no bacon the next morning and if I’m being honest, I’m not entirely surprised. There is an omelet still warm in the oven and a note letting me know that Logan will be heading into the practice field for some time with his personal trainer today. Again, no surprise that I’m not invited to meet said trainer. Shaking my head, I leave the omelet in the oven while I fill up my water bottle and head toward the gym.
Walking down the hall I replay the night before, disappointed that Logan didn’t re-emerge from whatever cave he marched into before I finally called it a night. I waited until almost midnight for him to head upstairs to apologize, but I fell sleep on the couch watching a documentary on the legendary Coach Anthony Jefferson and his legacy with the Columbus Comets. When I woke up a couple of hours later, a blanket I hadn’t known existed was draped over me and the TV had been turned off. I thought the gesture was a peace offering and that maybe, just maybe, we’d be able to get along this morning. But there is no bacon this morning, so I’m guessing not.
Plugging earbuds in, I almost miss the sound of the treadmill being turned off and a radio being silenced. Not wanting to intrude, and not really knowing what to do, I stop in the hallway and peek in through the cracked door. A very sweaty, very shirtless Logan is wiping down the machine with what looks like a Lysol wipe. My brain gets a little hung up on the flawlessly sculpted man and sigh sadly. Logan is beautiful, no doubt about it. I’ve crushed on numerous players, even tried a date here and there, but no one seems to hold a candle in the looks department to Logan Lassiter. I would be lying if I said I didn’t find his strong silence somewhat attractive, then throw in his devout loyalty to his family—even Drew to some extent—and I doubt anyone would blame me for standing here like a creeper drooling over a man who drives me insane. Too bad the beautiful exterior doesn’t match the tainted interior.
Too caught up in watching him yet again, we come face-to-face before I can school myself for the encounter.
“I’m sorry I was staring,” I spout bef
ore I can register a filter.
His lips twitch as he pulls a shirt over his head. “You were staring?”
I nod. Because for some reason the smoldering look in his eyes has completely taken my breath away.
“That’s not very polite.”
His very ironic statement pours over me like ice water and brings me back to reality. I can’t stop the laugh that barks out of me. I regret it the second his mildly amused look turns stony again.
“Sorry, that wasn’t very nice of me. I just find it wildly ironic of you to…” His eyes narrow. “You know what, never mind. I’m just going to go work out now.”
We both sigh as I squeeze past him and into the gym. Just as I am about to clear the space that smells uniquely like Logan, his arm snakes out and grabs the wrist that is holding my water bottle. Turning, I find him staring down at the San Jose Spartans bottle in my hand. That jaw clenches again and I roll my eyes.
“What now?”
He lets go and runs his hand through his hair again, his stare never leaving the bottle in my hand. “Nothing, never mind.”
I hold up the water and glare at him pointedly. “What? This? A gift from my…from Walt a couple of years ago. I don’t have a favorite team, but they’re his. I’m not trying to be—”
“I said never mind, Allie. Stop reading—”
“Ugh! You know what, Logan? I’m tired of walking on eggshells around you. One second you look like it might be possible for you to let loose and relax, and half a second later you’re back to being broody, poker-faced Logan again. Just chill out already, will ya.”
It isn’t until I let out a shaky breath that I realize I just said all my thoughts out loud. His vacant expression watches me for a moment to see if I’m going to say anything else.
“Are you done?”
I nod, afraid that if I open my mouth again I’m just going to go off on him again.
“I have to go into town for—”
“I got your note. Thanks.”
His nostrils flare, and I know his patience is waning as well. I make a mental note to look into other places to stay this afternoon.
“Well then. I’ll see you this evening.” He turns to leave but I’m here to do a job and I can’t get it done if we’re constantly at each other’s throats.
“Logan.” He turns, a weary expression on his face. “Can we try another interview tonight? Please?” I add, trying not to sound too pleading.
He visibly swallows. “It’s film night.”
Oh goodie. “What are we watching?”
“I have films to watch.” It takes me a moment to understand what he means. When understanding finally dawns on me, a tiny spark of excitement starts a fire within me. I could definitely use a game or two analyze to help clear my strung out nerves.
“Mind if I join you?” I ask, praying that he doesn’t turn me down.
He watches me for a moment. Apparently my dire need for the game shines all over my face when a timid smile pulls at the corners of his lips. “Sure. Just…just no questions please.”
“You got it.” If there’s one thing I can’t do it’s watch a game without interrupting for a million questions, but I won’t admit that right now. Instead I turn and giddily dance my way over to the treadmill. It isn’t until I power up the machine and set out in a steady jog and feel eyes still watching me that I realize that Logan is still standing in the doorway, watching my every move.
Now who’s being the creeper.
***
I’m going to go crazy on this ranch. It’s only the second day, but there’s nothing to do but watch boring Stacy and Colin while I sit with a plain cup of coffee and a bacon-less omelet. I find myself arguing with the passionless couple and chalk it up to the fact that a couple of games were dangled in front of my face and now I’m jonesing for screen time like a pregnant woman for chocolate cake. I seriously need to get out of this house.
Deciding that I could go scout out someone who used to go to school with Logan, maybe the Sheriff or maybe back to that coffee shop, I clear my breakfast and load my dishes into the dishwasher and nearly sprint to the shower. In record time, I’m clean shaven and donning my favorite khaki shorts. Going out on a whim that I could actually get the good folk of Walker to assist me if I blended better, I pair it with a chambray shirt and roll up my sleeves. Throwing on a pair of beige Keds, I double check my look to make sure I’m not too casual for what I need. Considering I’m out in the middle of nowhere cowtown, I consider myself appropriately dressed and pick up my purse and sunglasses. The spiraling tension in me at just the idea of out of the house nearly has me skipping.
Unfortunately as I’m opening the front door, a sleek, black BMW pulls into the looped drive. A gorgeous woman with the shiniest dark hair steps out and gives me a once-over over the top of her car.
“You’re that reporter. Allie something or other.” Her slight drawl makes me cringe. And who is this goddess who pulls right up to Logan’s front door as if she owns the place.
“I am. But I’m afraid I have no idea who you are.” Oh, would Maggie ever be disappointed in my lack of politeness right now.
The woman pulls the oversized shades off her face and places them on top of her head, smiling knowingly. “Why am I not at all surprised by that? Never mind. I’m Cassady Coleman and I’m here to drop off Hank.” She steps away from her door and closes it. When she walks around the front of her car, I can see she’s wearing medical scrubs with hearts on the top and matching red bottoms. Her eyes never peel away from me until she opens the front passenger door and leans inside the car. I couldn’t miss her attempts at sizing me up, probably because I’ve been doing the same since the moment her luscious locks popped out of the car. Seriously, the woman could be a shampoo model, she has fantastic hair.
Why would Logan have someone so beautiful dropping people off at her home? And why didn’t he tell me that she was coming by? Not that I should care that Cassady is here.
A deep, low bark pulls me from my wonderings. A second later the chubbiest, most roly-poly dog I’ve ever seen hops out of the car and plops down on the ground so he can lean up and scratch behind his ear.
“This is Hank?” I ask, kneeling down and getting on eye level with the handsome, wrinkle faced fellow.
At the sound of his name the squatty English bulldog gets up and slowly slinks up the short steps and stops right in front of me. His big black nose sniffs the air between us and then takes another step and nudges my hand until I move it to the white stripe that runs from up the middle of his face and over the top of his head. He plops his light brown body up against my legs and settles himself between my feet.
“Hmm. Well then.” Cassady’s nose scrunches up in what looks like ill-disguised disgust as she holds out a large, brown paper bag. “Here are his prescriptions. I wrote down the instructions for all of them for Logan. The purple pill he takes makes him woozy so tell him not to be surprised if Hank’s lazier than normal.”
“Prescriptions? Is he okay?” I ask, taking the bag and turning a more concerned eye down to the lovable chunker.
“Had hip surgery a few weeks ago. He finished up his physical therapy this morning. Doc has cleared him to come home.” She looks longingly at the dog.
She hands me the bag, giving me one more once-over, making me feel like I’ve somehow stepped on her toes. When she shakes her head and reaches for her glasses, I think I catch a glimpse of her eyes rolling. She turns without saying another word so I don’t even bother with standing to say goodbye. She suddenly stops after she opens the driver’s side door and pulls the glasses back up.
“Listen, I know why you’re here, but can I just give some unsolicited advice?”
Everything about the way she’s been staring me down screams there’s a story here, but something deep down is fighting my natural urge to ask. Instead I just watch as her eyes take in the sight of me and Hank in front of her.
“Logan’s a great guy and all, but…but don’t fall for h
im. You’ll only end up in pain before it’s all said and done.”
“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping here, but do you mind me asking what your relationship with Logan is?” I ask, before she can climb back in and drive off.
A sad, almost sarcastic smile slides over her face. “If you don’t already know the answer to that…” she stops herself and looks off into the distance as if she’s trying to hold her tongue. “That’s probably a better question for Logan.”
This time she slides back into her car before I can get another word out.
Feeling like I’ve hit yet another blackened out window that could give me something into Logan’s life, I turn and hold the front door open for Hank. He takes his slow, sweet time walking inside. His claws click on the hardwood floors as he searches the living room then the kitchen for presumably Logan. When he turns to head down the hallway that leads to the gym, I call out to him.
“I’m sorry, little guy. He’s not here right now.”
Hank stops and turns around to face me, gently plopping himself down. His beady eyes staring at me sadly.
“I was going to go into town,” I tell him, somehow expecting him to understand me. “Do you think you can hang out here until we get back?”
The dog doesn’t move an inch, those sad, black eyes still boring into me. Guilt tugs at my heart and suddenly, I can’t leave the poor baby here by himself. Not sure if he should roam the town with me, I sigh and retreat to my room. Dropping my purse on the little desk and kicking off my shoes, I turn to find Hank staring at me from the doorway.
