He smiled, thinking he’d finally gotten through to her.
But then she resumed ranting. “Don’t try to sweet-talk me, Logan Brassard! I let it pass when you paid for the DNA kit and the pizzas. But now you’ve really gone overboard! Seriously! I mean, it’s not that I’m ungrateful, but this is getting ridic—”
“What was that?” Logan said loudly, pretending there was a bad connection. “I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up.”
“What? I can hear you just f—”
“Sorry, babe. We’re losing our connection. You must be coming up on a dead spot or something. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up on her and pocketed his phone, sighing as he stared out across the bright blue waters of the bay.
Maybe Jupiter had a point. Maybe the twenty grand was a bit over the top. But he couldn’t help himself. He had an overwhelming compulsion to take care of her every need, to protect her and provide for her, to give her the whole world on a silver platter. This was totally new territory for him. Frankly, it was pretty fucking scary.
But he found himself grinning as he returned to his seat at the table. The others were laughing and heckling Dmitri about something, so fortunately they weren’t paying any attention to Logan.
Or so he thought until Hunter leaned toward him. “Everything okay with your friend?” he murmured, putting an amused inflection on the word friend.
Logan nodded. “Yeah. We’re good.”
“Are you sure?” Hunter prodded, his eyes twinkling. “Because I could have sworn she was yelling at you.”
Logan brought his glass to his lips, hiding his grin. “If she was yelling, it was out of excitement for the upcoming Vegas trip.”
Hunter chuckled and shook his head. “You’re so full of shit.”
Logan grinned unabashedly and wolfed down the rest of his porterhouse steak.
After their plates had been cleared and dessert ordered, Dubinski rubbed his hands together and grinned lecherously at Logan and Dmitri. “Can’t wait to hit the club tonight.”
“Hell yeah,” Dmitri agreed.
Logan didn’t say anything.
His silence had Dubinski narrowing his eyes. “You’re still going out with us, right?”
Logan shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Seriously?” Dubinski pointed across the shimmering bay to the distant Miami skyline. “Look over there. What do you see?”
Logan sighed. “What’s your point?”
“My point is that we’re in Miami! Hottie Central! Home of the muy caliente babes! This is one of your favorite playgrounds, mi amigo. We always get super turnt up in The Magic City! Have you forgotten? The second you walk into any club, the ladies be all over you! And they lose their fucking minds when you start speaking Spanish and dancing the bachata.” Dubinski jumped up and started wiggling his hips like a geriatric gigolo.
Logan winced and held up a hand. “Please stop. Your dancing is as cringey as your Spanish.”
The others laughed uproariously as Dubinski dropped back into his seat and grinned at Logan, his eyes bright and glassy.
“That’s why you need to come with us, bro,” he cajoled, his words slurring slightly. “You’ve got the moves that make the hotties drop their panties!”
Logan chuckled and rubbed his jaw, trying to dredge up some enthusiasm. But he was digging deep and couldn’t find a scrap of it. For the first time since he could remember, the thought of partying and hooking up with random women sounded about as appealing as eating a bowl of slugs.
“So what do you say, man?” Dubinski gave him a leering grin. “Which club do you wanna hit up first?”
“Should you even be going to the club?” Logan asked, deflecting his teammate’s question like a puck off the blocker.
Dubinski’s grin wavered. “What do you mean?”
“Aren’t you dating…uh…” Logan tried to recall the chick’s name but drew a blank.
“Jess,” Reid supplied.