Page 73 of Sin Bin

He had a bunch of new messages from bunnies he’d either flirted with or banged. He was always amazed at the soft-porn pictures that women sent him. His inbox was overflowing with more tits and asses than he knew what to do with. His last one-night stand was still milking her fifteen minutes courtesy of the picture she’d taken of herself cuddled up beside him as he slept. The photo had racked up a ton of likes and lurid comments. Shit was crazy.

He was deleting some rather explicit DMs when he came across a three-day-old message from Inez Gutierrez. It took him a moment to remember that she was Ana’s sister.

Her message read: Hey sexy. I’m in night school so I miss most of your games. But I’m your biggest fan and would love to hang out. Maybe this week?

Logan grimaced at the phone screen. He knew he had no interest in meeting her or getting to know her, so he definitely didn’t want to lead her on. It was best to be up front with her so she could move on with her life.

His thumbs flew over the keypad as he wrote back: I think you’re beautiful but I’m not looking for a relationship. Nothing personal. Good luck in school.

He sent the message and then hopped over to Twitter. His postgame shout-out to Jupiter had set off a whirlwind of speculation. He saw a number of tweets from women trying to solve the mystery of Jupiter’s identity, peevishly wondering who she could be and what she could mean to Logan. He supposed their curiosity was understandable. He’d never publicly acknowledged any woman before. If he’d known what a commotion it would cause, he probably would have kept his mouth shut.

One particular thread had hundreds of comments. He skimmed through them, shaking his head as he read all sorts of different theories about Jupiter. He hadn’t meant to throw a big spotlight on her. He knew she would hate knowing that complete strangers were discussing her. Thankfully she wasn’t on social media, so there was a good chance she would never learn about her unwanted fame.

Comforted by the thought, Logan tucked his phone away and leaned back in the chair, his gaze wandering toward the large front window overlooking the parking lot.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Jupiter and the kiss they’d shared on Friday night. Holy shit, that kiss. He’d never been so hot for a woman, so outrageously turned on. Not an hour went by when he didn’t remember the taste of her, the sweetness and softness of her mouth, the breathy little moans she’d made, the feel of her curves pressed against him. She’d driven him absolutely wild. Just the memory sent a rush of blood to his groin and tightened his balls.

But what he’d felt that night went beyond attraction and lust. He’d kissed her and felt a connection so powerful that his body felt as if it were being absorbed into hers. It was hard to describe. Hard to explain. So was the fact that he felt slightly panicky inside whenever he thought of her being miles away. He couldn’t shake a niggling worry that she would change her mind about moving to Denver.

He knew his fears were completely irrational. She’d just gotten a new job. She was a responsible person—sane and reliable. She wasn’t going to flake out on people who were counting on her. Plus she needed the money.

He knew all these things. Yet the thought of her not coming back was twisting his gut into hard little knots. It was crazy. Crazy to be so fearful of losing someone who didn’t belong to him. Maybe he should go see Hunter’s Zen guy after all. He clearly needed some help dealing with his abandonment issues.

“…Thanks, Ollie.”

The sound of Hunter’s voice pulled Logan back to the present. He stretched and yawned, watching as his best friend rose from the barber’s chair and looked in the long mirror that ran the length of the wall. After inspecting his meticulously trimmed hair and beard, Hunter gave an approving nod.

“Impressive work as always, Ollie.”

Ollie beamed like he’d just won the lottery. A compliment from Hunter Duchene tended to have that effect on people.

After paying and generously tipping the barber, Hunter took the seat Logan had just vacated and pulled out some notes for a speech he was giving that afternoon at some graduate seminar. He was earning an online master’s degree in international relations and often had to attend functions required for class. He was impeccably dressed in a custom broadcloth shirt with French cuffs and dark suit pants. The jacket was in his car, carefully draped over the back of the driver’s seat so it wouldn’t get wrinkled.

As Logan dropped into the padded barber’s chair, Ollie tied a shiny apron around his neck and grinned at his head. “Man, your hair grows like weeds,” he joked. “You need to be in here every day if you wanna maintain your buzz cut.”

Logan chuckled. “I know.”

Ollie gestured to the purplish bruise on his cheek. “Nice shiner.”

“You should see the other guy,” Hunter drawled humorously.

“I did.” Ollie laughed. “That was one helluva fight, Brassard. Though it wasn’t really much of a fight, was it?” He cackled and shook his head. “If this hockey thing doesn’t work out for you, you’d make a killing as a heavyweight boxer.”

“Don’t give him any ideas,” Hunter warned. “He gets approached by enough boxing promoters as it is.”

Ollie laughed.

Logan wasn’t listening. He was staring at his reflection in the mirror as Meadow’s voice echoed through his mind. I always remembered you with a wild mop of thick black hair. It was beautiful. Why’d you cut it off?

“The usual?” Ollie asked, picking up his clippers.

Logan slowly ran a hand over his growing buzz cut, pondering his reflection.

“The usual?” Ollie repeated.

Logan hesitated another moment. “Yeah. The usual.”

Ollie nodded and turned on the clippers.

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