Chapter Twenty-Two
If Logan had to make a list of things he hated, it would include being hung up on and being ignored. Tate had done both of those in the last three hours. He’d tried calling him back several times after their not-so-pleasant conversation, and the stubborn ass had let all of his calls go to voice mail where, of course, he’d left seven different messages.
Christ, how was I supposed to know I hit Call instead of Ignore earlier? Plus, Tate had it all wrong. Logan hadn’t meant things the way they’d sounded. Tate just needed to hear him out.
Opening the door to the bar, Logan stepped inside and noticed it was quiet for a Wednesday night. Good, he thought, it will make it easier for us to talk.
Making his way over to his usual spot, the first person he saw was Amelia.
She gave him a small wave as she walked over and then stopped in front of him. “Evening, Logan.”
Logan was not in the mood for small talk. “Hey. Is he here?”
Amelia sucked her top lip into her mouth and grabbed a glass. “Gin and tonic?”
Annoyed at her change of topic, Logan nodded and tried again. “Amelia?”
She mixed the drink, and slid it over to him. “He told me to take your orders tonight.”
Logan’s jaw actually hurt from how hard he clenched it shut. He looked down the length of the bar, but he saw no sign of Tate. He turned on his stool and looked around the dimly lit area, and still, no Tate. Where is he?
As Logan faced Amelia once again, his eye caught Tate walking out from the back hall. He threw a towel over his shoulder and made his way up to the counter with a smile for—Logan turned to check—a redhead with huge—
“Logan?”
“What?” he snapped, aiming his glare at the woman in front of him.
“You want anything else?”
Logan picked up the glass, brought it to his lips, and before taking a drink, he mumbled, “No.”
Amelia leaned across to him, as Logan continued to sit, irate.
Once upon a time, he would have been looking at a way to get her out the back, but now, all he could do was think about how she could help get Tate to talk to him again.
“He’s been looking at the door all evening, if that helps.”
It did, but Logan wasn’t going to admit it. Instead, he brought his eyes to hers and hated the fact that they no longer did anything for him.
“Tell him I’m here?”
Amelia stepped back with a laugh. “Oh, he knows. That’s why he went out the back.” She started to walk away, and then at the last moment, she looked back at him. “It’s nice to finally see you having to work for the attention.”
Logan raised his glass to take a sip, and eyed Tate as he continued laughing with the redhead. Yes, he’d worked damn hard for Tate’s attention, and he would be fucked if someone else stole it—even for five minutes.
* * *
Tate could sense Logan’s eyes on him. There was no way he was going to serve him tonight. He was too mad to even talk to the guy, let alone have a verbal sparring match with him. So, he’d sent Amelia instead.
She, of course, had been curious about what was going on, but surprisingly, she had not asked any questions. She’d merely smiled and agreed to do it. It was, however, killing Tate not to look over at the other end of the bar. He hadn’t realized how strongly he was drawn to Logan until he was ordering himself not to be.
With a wide smile and a view directly down her pink blouse, the woman in front of Tate was trying her very best to convince him to take her number, or perhaps give his own.
“So, what’s your name?”
Tate gave her a quick grin knowing exactly what his role was in this little game. “Well, if I tell you that, you’ll know all the important facts and leave me.”
“Oh, I’d never leave you,” she purred. “You’re too nice to look at.”
Somewhat flattered, Tate eyed the drink in front of her. “I think your drink has impaired your vision.”
“No, it hasn’t. This is only my second one, and you are just…mmm…delicious.”
Tate knew it was her third. He’d been counting.
He wondered, not for the first time, How do I always end up in conversations like this? It was part of the job, he supposed.
Knowing that if he played it up, the tip would likely be a good one, he leaned his side against the bar and continued chatting. “Hard day at the office?”
Red took a sip of her Manhattan and raised a brow. “Are you changing the subject?”
“Not at all. What would you like to talk about?”
“How about you? Are you single?” she daringly inquired, letting her eyes roam all over him.
Tate wasn’t shocked that her look provoked zero response from him, but he was surprised that the mere thought of the man in the gray suit at the other end of the bar had his cock twitching and his skin heating. Fucking Logan.