Since I was a kid, making it into the World Hockey League was the ultimate goal. No relationship could match my first love, and after my rough childhood, I wasn't putting my heart on the line.
When Bellerive makes a successful bid to move the Califo...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I've watched Logan's post-game interview an embarrassing number of times. A number I will never admit out loud to anyone. After telling myself that this is definitely the last time because they played earlier this afternoon and I really need to go to bed, I rewind it again. I'm just about to hit play when my doorbell rings.
Leaving the replay paused, I check the time on my phone as I walk to the door from the living room. It's after midnight, which makes me wonder if it's one of my four siblings. No messages, though. So, I scroll to my security camera app, and I suck in a deep breath.
Logan?
I open the door, and there's always a beat when I first see him, where I'm surprised again at how tall he is, how broad. He's a brick wall of a man, and his finely tailored suit only seems to emphasize his height and breadth. Every single time my core warms at his proximity, as though his mere presence automatically cranks the preheat dial.
Minty goodness wafts toward me. After the game the other night, his skin smelled like a delicious mixture of peppermint and spearmint that made me want to bury my face in his neck, suck in a deep breath, and maybe run my tongue along the hollow there.
Heat creeps into my cheeks. I cannot believe I just thought that.
If I wasn't slightly mortified by my reaction, surprise would probably overtake the heat of my embarrassment. Neither of us is doing anything out of the ordinary, but I would almost bet that whatever I feel in this moment, he feels it too. It just is. This spark of instantaneous lust has never happened to me before, and the fact that he's the one inspiring it is...
Unprofessional, I remind myself.
"Are you okay?" I ask when he doesn't say anything. He seems to be drinking me in the same way I just did to him, as though I'm ice water on a scorching hot summer's day.
Take a sip. Quench your thirst.
No, no, no. What am I thinking?
"Can we talk?" His voice is gruff. "I know it's late."
He doesn't apologize for coming here uninvited. There isn't even a hint of contrition, as though he has every right to show up well past regular work hours. I don't even know how he knew my address. Politeness, and a desire to be near him, almost makes me open the door wide. I haven't seen him in two days, which shouldn't feel long, but it does.
Then I remember I'm not letting men dictate my boundaries anymore. Or I'm trying not to.
"It's after midnight. This can't wait until tomorrow?"
"I wanted to see you." Logan's jaw is set at a stubborn angle.
"You can't just show up at my house. I don't even know how you got here."
"My driver knows the island like the back of his hand. I told him to take me to Sawyer Tucker, and that's what he did."
