Page 310 of Sin Bin

She punched his arm, and he laughed.

She gestured to his scruffy face. “So what’s up with that?”

He blinked at her. “What?”

“The beard.” She wrinkled her nose. “I realize you hockey players have your stupid traditions, but must you go around looking like some deranged lumberjack? If you want a shot at getting out of the sin bin—”

He scowled. “I’m not cutting my playoff beard. That’s a big fucking no-no.”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Then could you at least get it trimmed? Not every woman is into beards, especially when they grow long enough to have woodland creatures dwelling in them.”

Logan grunted, scratching his beard. It had gotten a tad unruly. But she was totally exaggerating about the length.

She grinned wryly. “Meadow has a big heart. If she decides to take you back, you don’t want her to do it out of pity just because you look like some poor hobo.”

“You’re not talking to her. I forbid it.” He turned away, running a hand down his beard. “I’ll see what I can do about getting a trim.”

Cynara let out a knowing laugh.

He hung his head. God, he was pathetic.

“Just promise me you won’t talk to her until I say you can,” he grumbled.

Cynara gave him a look of amused indulgence. “When have I ever taken orders from you?”

He scowled at her.

“Seriously though, Logan.” She cupped his cheek, her eyes boring into his. “You know I don’t believe in happily-ever-afters. But if anyone deserves a fairy-tale ending, it’s definitely you and Meadow.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

MEADOW

“I wish you were going to the games with us, Meadow,” Bianca lamented over lunch with the girls later that afternoon. “I mean, obviously, I know why you’re not going. But I wish…well, I wish things were different.”

“So do I,” Meadow mumbled, picking at her avocado salad and trying not to think about Logan’s surprise ambush that morning.

Over the past two and a half days, she’d cried herself dry and now felt like an empty husk with nothing inside. She was mentally exhausted, emotionally battered. Completely wrung out.

“It’s okay that you’re not going back to Vegas with the girls.” Jess draped an arm around Meadow’s shoulders. “I’m not going either, so you and I can hang out.”

“I don’t think so,” Scarlett interjected with a snort. “The last time you and Meadow hung out together, Logan went berserker at some club, broke a dude’s nose and got suspended for one game. Don’t get me wrong. I thoroughly enjoyed the carnage, and I’ve watched the viral video more times than I’ll ever admit. But Logan’s suspension was hella costly to the team, and we really can’t afford to lose him again. Seriously, y’all. We’re so close to winning the Cup I can taste it.” She turned beseechingly to Meadow. “I would never ask you to take Logan back just for the sake of the team. That would be horribly selfish and insensitive, and I’m not that kind of girl. But as a lifelong Rebels fan, I implore you not to do anything to mess with his headspace. Like, don’t tell reporters you hope his dick gets frostbite during the game. Don’t show up anywhere with another guy. And for the love of God, please stay away from clubs!”

Jess huffed indignantly. “Meadow is a grown woman. You can’t tell her what to—”

“Listen, bitch,” Scarlett snarled, jabbing her fork at Jess. “If you take her anywhere near a fucking club, I will hack you up into pieces, drive to the nearest ocean and feed you to the sharks.”

Jess actually gulped.

“Damn, Scar,” Bianca joked. “Forget marrying a Viking descendant. You must have been one in a past life!”

Laughter erupted around the table.

Meadow shook her head wryly at Scarlett. “Don’t worry, Vikingess. I have no interest in clubbing. That’s the last thing on my mind right now.”

Everyone gave her a sympathetic look.

Jess sipped her vodka cranberry. “So how long will Logan be in the doghouse? I mean, this is only temporary, right? To teach him a lesson about avoiding compromising situations?”

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