Player (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)(192)

My eyes narrow as I frown at her; “So, that what you think this is? You think I need some kind of pity fuck from you because I get hit or knocked down?”

“Well?” She says, her head cocked to the side and a hand on her hip.

I can feel the heat rising inside of me, but I shove it down as I glare at her; “Listen, Doc, I can take a hit.”

“Yeah? How about a hint, Logan.”

We’re both quiet for a second, just staring at each other and letting the air simmer between us before she shakes her head; “I’m sorry, that’s not what I-”

“Nah, heard loud and clear, Doc.” I smile at her, forcing the grin to my face despite how pissed off I am; “A fling is a fling; I get it.”

“Logan-”

“I have work to do, Quinn.”

She opens her lips again, but then she just shakes her head and storms off, leaving me with a raging case of blue-balls.

Well, that sure went well.





20





Quinn




“There’s no discussion here, Quinn, you’re coming!” Chelsea’s voice is her usual chipper, sunshiny self on the other end of the line, and I can’t help but grin at my youngest sister’s seemingly boundless supply of positive energy.

“Seriously, thanks for the invite, but there’s no way I’m going to a college party, Chels.”

“You make it sound like it’s some kind of frat party, Quinn! It’s being thrown by some of the graduate students anyways, there’ll be plenty of people there your age.”

I’ve got my phone on speaker, and Reagan snorts next to me as I roll my eyes. My age. I’m fucking twenty-seven for crying out loud.

“Besides, Reagan told me you could use a night out.”

I whip my head to glare at my other sister as she shakes her head side-to-side; “I didn’t say a word about that!” she whispers quickly as I frown at her.

“Yeah, Chels, she needs it,” She says louder for our sister to hear.

“See? Come on, Quinn, come have some fun.”

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about our youngest sister, it’s that she is deceivingly hard to say no to; “Are you coming to this debacle too?” I say sarcastically to Reagan.

“I’m pregnant, Quinn. No, I won’t be coming to the frat party.”

“Guys, it’s not a frat party!” Chelsea huffs over the line; “Quinn, please? I promise you’re going to have fun.”

Reagan is nodding at me with a big shit-eating grin on her face and I already know I’ve lost this battle; “Fine, but if I see one keg-stand or a single Greek letter, I’m out, got it?”



“Ok, I’m officially way too old to be here.”

Alright, it’s not like I’m the oldest person in the room or anything, it’s just that the general vibe is a far cry from the occasional one drink with coworkers or the more typical wine and Netflix that usually occupies my free Friday nights.

My sister rolls her eyes; “You are not.”

“Chelsea, I could have babysat some of these kids.”

“Well, you babysat me!” She says, grinning at me.

“Not helping, but thanks,” I grumble as she laughs and drags us into the crowd.

To her credit, the party is definitely a step above anything I remember from my own college experience. It’s at some nice off-campus house instead of a dorm-room, and we’re wearing name tags for crying out loud; name tags. Parties I went to in college involved yelling your name to someone over loud music. But at Chelsea’s graduate program soirée, they’ve got sticker name tags and light jazz. The party even has an actual bartender pouring drinks instead of the “help yourself” style kegs and punch bowls I remember from school. OK, so he's pouring crappy drinks, but hey, it’s a step in the right direction.

“You may notice a lack of keg, if you can see that far down from your tower, Quinn,” Chelsea says, smirking at me. Suddenly she arches a brow and lowers her voice; “Uh, and speaking of ‘noticing’, there’s a tall dark and handsome over there noticing you right now.” I turn to see a clean-cut, good-looking older guy with a beer in his hand quickly look away. Chelsea is wagging her eyebrows at me when I turn back, and she winks at me conspiratorially; “I’m going to go, uh, find my friends.”

“No, Chels-!”

“Try to have some fun, OK, Quinn?” She grins at me before peeling away and pushing her way through the crowd.

Great, I grumble to myself; thanks, sis. I mean, granted, the whole point of tonight was a little distraction and to clear my head of Logan, but it’s not like I came here looking for that kind of attention anywa-