His Plaything(32)

Logan frowned at him. “What the hell is wrong with you, man?”

“It's a mystery for the ages. Why do you ask?”

Fox's tone had been flippant. But Logan didn't look even remotely amused. If anything, his expression darkened as he reached for the remote. “Because she's upset and you're too busy casting her in your own private porno to listen.”

“Huh?” Fox clearly hadn't expected him to be serious. “Dude, I wasn't—”

Logan paused the movie and turned to face Fox. “And even if she were fine, your dumb ass is just being fucking disrespectful.”

“Uh…”

“If I came to you with a personal problem, would you ask to see my dick?”

At some point I had stopped chewing, stunned. This was the longest speech I'd ever heard from Logan. Wow … he actually seems pissed. Does he care that much about my feelings?

Fox blinked, looking back and forth between us. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

“Next time you have an idea, try running it past your big head first.”

“Okay, damn! I said I was sorry. Honest miscalculation.” Fox took a slug of his drink.

Logan's gaze returned to me and I finally swallowed my last bite of pizza, which by now had turned unpleasantly soggy. “It doesn't make any sense to punish yourself for how some bastard treated you,” he said. “Don't let him ruin men for you … living well is the best revenge, right? Keep looking for your own happiness. Leave him in the dust.”

What the hell? The guy who never opens his mouth turns out to secretly be Dear Abby? Just as I thought I'd had Logan pegged, he showed an entire other side: so kind, so quick to defend me, so serious about making me feel better. It was nothing short of disarming. But of course, neither of them knew that the asshole who'd broken my heart was their best friend. Still reluctant to let my guard down, I shook my head. “There’s no point. All men are the same. I'm just … I'm done.”

“Would you give me a chance to prove you wrong?” Logan asked.

“How would you do that?”

“Let me take you out on a date. Tomorrow night.”

I stared at Logan, but I couldn't detect any hint that he was kidding. I definitely hadn't expected this development from tonight. Even Fox looked a little taken aback. “Uh … ” I began, with no idea how to end.

Logan smiled. Apparently my dumbstruck silence was flattering. “You ever been to The Pointe before?”

“N-no, but I've heard of it,” I said, and immediately felt stupid. There was no way I couldn't have heard of it. The Pointe was one of the most expensive restaurants in Coronado Island, right on Glorietta Bay Beach. I glanced at Fox again. “Is he for real?”

As serious as I'd ever seen him, Fox replied, “You've got nothing to worry about. Logan is one of the good guys. We've been teammates for years, and I've never seen him sleeping around. He's only had two girlfriends, both pretty serious, and he treated them like queens.”

That wasn't quite what I'd meant. But it was what I needed to know—and Logan didn't seem offended by us talking about him like he wasn't there. Or like he was on trial. I guess he doesn't blame me for being a little suspicious right now.

Okay, so Logan wasn't a raging man-whore. That already put him several hundred points ahead of Nixon. But was that enough? Did Logan actually want me, or did he just feel sorry for me? And did I want him back? Would this just be some pathetic rebound fling?

Or was I thinking way too hard about this? He wasn't asking me to marry him, for God's sake. It was just one date. Why not let a cute, sweet man take me out to a classy dinner? The mere act of getting back into the romance game could be good for me. If nothing else, it would get me out of the house. One evening of lost study time was well worth the distraction and the self-esteem boost. I'd probably find some valuable perspective on all my conflicted emotions about Nixon. And maybe, just maybe, it really was possible to restore my faith in men.

Oh, what the hell … you only live once.

Feeling buoyed already, I nodded. “Sure. I'd love to go.”

Chapter 15

Nixon



Even though we'd caught a good tailwind and made it back to North Island almost an hour early, my skin still crawled with impatience. For the past thirty-six hours, I'd barely had time to breathe, let alone call Avery—check up on how she was doing, hear her voice, whatever it was I wanted. I didn't even know. I had never missed a woman like this before. When we'd been standing at the front door and she had said, “I miss you already,” I had automatically replied, “Me, too,” and been surprised at how much I really meant it. Now all I could think about was getting home again. Avery turning at the sound of the door, giving me an excited smile, rushing into my arms for a kiss…