I offered a wan smile. “Just tired. Had a long workweek.”
That sent us into a conversation about what it was I was doing over the summer. I had to hand it to him. He was polite. He seemed interested as I described the goal of Dr. Chase’s research.
My gaze still flickered around the room; I couldn’t help myself. Now that I had a taste, I was maybe addicted to Logan Mulvaney. Fine. No maybes. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t kick the habit. People overcame bigger obstacles every day. I would, too.
Of course, this conviction was blown out of the water when I suddenly spotted him across the room, standing near the bar. He didn’t look like he was working. A posse of girls surrounded him. One kept her hand planted firmly on his chest as she talked, and the totally unacceptable urge to pull her off him by her hair seized me. God. I was such a cliché. I bit the edge of my tongue, disappointed in myself.
I wasn’t the jealous type. I never had been. I hadn’t even been jealous when Harris started studying long hours in the library with the girl he left me for, and I probably should have been. I guess I hadn’t cared enough to be concerned, but I cared now and it sucked.
When her hand drifted down his stomach, pain sliced my chest. It only got worse as I watched her red fingernails stroke low, snatching hold of the hem of his shirt. He smiled. Like he used to smile at me, in the beginning when he was all teasing grins.
I wondered what she had said to make him smile. She tossed her long hair over a sleek, tanned shoulder, leaving no obstruction to the view of her ample cleavage.
Comparatively, I felt like a minister’s wife in my pink wraparound blouse with a sash that tied smartly into a bow across my midriff.
I must have been glaring holes into Logan because suddenly he lifted his head and scanned the room, promptly finding me.
I tore my gaze and looked back at the guy beside me. Knowing Logan was watching, I tried to look really interested in what he was saying. I hated that Logan caught me gawking at him. Even though I was dying to know if he was still watching me, I refused to look in his direction again.
I was in the middle of asking Knit Cap Guy a question about winters in Maine where he grew up when a pair of long legs stopped beside my table. I looked up into Logan’s impassive face.
“Hey, it’s Little Mulvaney,” Annie declared.
He flicked her a withering glance before looking back at me. “Can I see your ID, please?”
I shook my head and tucked a long strand of hair behind my ear, certain I had misheard. Of all the things I thought he might say, that was not what I expected. “Excuse me?”
“ID,” he repeated.
Now I was royally pissed. He knew I was still twenty and he was asking for my driver’s license? Jerk. I stabbed a finger where he had been standing moments ago with his little harem. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
“C’mon, buddy,” the guy beside me coaxed. He rested a hand on my shoulder as if offering his support. “Be cool.”
Logan’s eyes settled on that hand on my shoulder for a moment before sliding his blue eyes to Knit Cap Guy’s face. “Stay out of this, and I’m not your buddy.”
My would-be savior’s smile faltered.
“You got to be kidding me, Mulvaney. Her best friend is together with your brother and you’re carding her?” Annie’s voice was loud enough to draw stares. “And she’s living in the loft upstairs. That’s just dick of you.”
“Be quiet, Annie,” I ordered without looking at her. I didn’t look at anyone except Logan. Even as I dug around inside my handbag for my fake ID, I kept my glare trained firmly on him, positive that steam was escaping my ears. He glared right back at me, his jaw locked hard, arms crossed over his chest.