Page 112 of Sin Bin

“How would you feel if you were on a date with a woman and another guy asked her out? Wouldn’t you be well within your rights to kick his ass?”

“Hmm. Depends.”

“On what?”

“What’s the nature of my relationship with the woman?” Hunter asked.

“You’re…friends.” Logan gritted out the word.

“Just friends?”

“Really good friends. As close as a man and woman can get without being lovers.”

Hunter lifted one eyebrow in a silent question.

Logan sighed and looked at the sky. “You’re becoming sort of…preoccupied with the woman. You enjoy being with her, you think about her constantly when you’re apart and you get pretty excited about seeing her again.” He swallowed. “But, yeah, she’s just a friend.”

“I see.” Hunter surveyed the fairway, visualizing his shot. “So this friend and I are on a date, you say?”

“Yeah,” Logan said vigorously. “You’re both dressed up, most of the other people are dressed up, and there’s champagne and fancy hors d’oeuvres. It totally meets the definition of a date.”

“Certainly sounds close.” There was a glimmer of amusement in Hunter’s eyes as he rose to his feet. “So am I standing beside the woman when the other guy approaches?”

“No,” Logan grumbled darkly. “You’re off somewhere mingling because people recognized you and want to talk to you, and your date isn’t really comfortable in social settings even though it was her idea to attend the reception. You want to be with her, but you don’t want to bring the crowd around her because the presence of too many people seems to make her feel claustrophobic. So you laugh and socialize while keeping a close eye on her because you want to make sure she’s okay and, dammit, she looks good enough to eat. Every time you try to go to her, you get pulled into another conversation or another group selfie. You’re starting to get frustrated, but you don’t want to be rude by telling people to fuck off, especially when one of them graciously fixes you a plate. While getting your ear talked off, you turn your back for one freaking minute to grab some hand sanitizer and shove a few hors d’oeuvres in your piehole. By the time you turn around, the other man has made his move. And your beautiful date is laughing and smiling at the fucker like he’s her fantasy guy come to life.” Logan scowled, seeing red all over again.

Hunter was grinning at him. “Why doesn’t this sound like a hypothetical scenario anymore?”

“Because it’s not. Which you damn well know.”

Hunter laughed and shook his head. He hadn’t taken his shot yet, but nobody would dare rush him. They knew better.

He took a club from his caddie and examined it. “So what does the guy do?”

“He teaches physics and astronomy. He has a Ph.D.,” Logan added, mimicking Ephraim’s pompous tone.

“Ah.” Hunter nodded wisely. “Hence why he would be her fantasy guy.”

“Because he has a doctorate?” Logan growled.

“Because he shares her passion for astronomy.” Hunter studied Logan’s eyes in that unnerving way of his. “That’s really what’s bothering you, isn’t it? You’re afraid of her having more in common with the professor than you. You’re afraid of them sharing such a powerful connection that they end up getting married and having little astronomer babies with genius IQs.”

Logan swallowed hard and gritted his teeth, a muscle in his jaw ticking like crazy as Jupiter’s gut-wrenching words replayed in his head. Since I didn’t become an astronomer, marrying one would be the next best thing.

Hunter took a couple practice swings he didn’t need. “By your own admission, you and Meadow are just friends. Your outing together might qualify as a date, but it was a platonic one. Which I’m sure she conveyed to the professor during their conversation. In his mind—and hers—he wasn’t disrespecting you by asking her out. But you already know that.”

Logan just stood there silently fuming.

Hunter stepped up to the ball. “Wherever you go, whether you’re in uniform or not, you not only represent the Denver Rebels, you represent all hockey players. You know how strongly I feel about defying stereotypes and showing hockey players in a positive light. Going apeshit on some poor professor would have been a colossally bad move. Not only would you have embarrassed Meadow, you also could have seriously hurt the guy—”

“That’s kinda the point,” Logan grumbled.

Hunter wagged his head at him. “What have I told you about letting your temper get the best of you?” He pointed to Logan’s fists, which currently had a stranglehold on his golf club. “Those hands are lethal weapons. It’s one thing to use them against similar-sized opponents in the heat of a game. But pummeling some astronomy professor just because he asked your ‘friend’ out on a date?” Hunter gave him a you-know-better-than-that look.

Logan scowled at him.

“What am I always telling you? Unleash the beast on the ice. Off the ice, always be a gentleman.” Hunter swung his club in a perfect arc, drilling the ball straight down the fairway and into the heart of the cup.

Cheers erupted from the crowd of spectators.

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