Page 65 of Perfect Playbook

I make a new column on the Excel sheet with a heading callednotes. Logan adjusts in his seat; his rock-hard thigh brushes my bare leg, my skirt hiked up when I sat down. I tug at the sides of the fabric to push it down further, but it’s only a knee-length one anyway.

But Logan isn’t noticing any of the things I am. He’s all business. I should be, too.

He points again. “Rosario is on my team. He saw you yesterday at the rink, and I talked about what you do. His sister is having herquinceañera. Would you make a cake for a birthday?”

“Guess I could do that.” I type in the notes.

“You should stick to your guns if it’s not your brand.” He puts his arm across the back of my chair, his wide rib cage threatening, or promising, to swallow me whole. Logan has the kind of skin that looks like it tastes nice.

“Uh…” I flick my gaze to the spreadsheet again. “It’s good. I’d love to do a birthday party.”

He insists. “But is it your brand? Or did you want to do wedding cakes only?”

He is way too close. I want notes on these people, but equally my underarms are prickling now with his arm on the back of my chair. The memory of his lips on mine creeps back up my spine. His morning scent is intoxicating. His tattoo is intriguing, and my mouth is dry. All these physical symptoms, and he sits there completely unaffected.

“Logan… please.” I sound annoyed. I’m not. More… bothered. Hot and goddamn bothered. I reel myself in. “Don’t worry about my business. Just give me the notes. You need to get ready for your trip.”

The sooner we get through what he knows about these people, the sooner he gets away from me and I can dig my heels in and stop slipping down this sexual landslide.

Logan takes a bite of his bagel and chews pensively. His jaw flexes with as much muscle as there is everywhere else on his body. He wipes his hands on his pants, right next to that thick dick lurking somewhere beneath, and points to another contact.

“This one here. Hughes actually called me to say congrats on our marriage. He’s one of Ashton’s friends from Los Angeles. He’s getting married next week.”

“Too late for me to pitch.”

“Maybe not. Ashton told me his wedding planner took the money and ran. You never know. They might need a cake. Or even a ‘just in cake.’”

It’s corny, but it makes me laugh. “You did not just make that joke.”

“Yeah. It was bad. Just trying to make you smile. You’re all serious this morning. Still worried about Nino?”

Men are so damn clueless. “I’m serious all the time. I haven’t changed.” The words slip from underneath me. “Unlike you.”

“I’vechanged?” he asks. “Funny how I don’t see it that way.”

“Never mind.”

“You can’t make a comment like that and think I’m going to let it go. What do you mean I’ve changed?”

My gaze meets his. “Honestly, forget I said it.”

He traces his top lip with his finger, considering me, his light-brown eyes pouring questions into the small space between us. He wants to know what I meant, and it wasn’t fair for me to ding-dong ditch him with this. It’s just… I need to remind myself.

This Logan sitting next to me isn’t the one from college. This Logan is a playboy. The NHL’s very own rake. The Logan I knew from college, well, he wasn’t like that. He hada small trusted group of friends and family, not a wide circle of famous celebrities and social climbers.

He used to take relationships seriously. Was he always destined to become this man? Probably. Maybe. Maybe not. Any which way, I can’t let myself glorify the past. We’re where we are now, and there’s nothing but today. And today, he’s the guy who is currently being written about in tabloids with disbelief at being married to me. At being married at all. It’s as big as the fascination over any famous man, once perceived as a lifelong bachelor.

The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable, but it hums with unanswered questions. In the end, he asks the last one I expect.

“What happened to Antonio’s dad?”

My mouth goes dry. The answer isn’t something I like talking about. It’s mixed with shame, anger, and frustration.

Logan reads me immediately. “You don’t have to talk about it. But I’d like to know.”

I appreciate Logan giving me an out. This story is such an intimate part of my past. It’s such a huge source of my mistrust in men. I consider not telling him, but when Logan and I began this whole thing, I knew it was a chance for Antonio to have a Hunter in his corner. Maybe Logan should know more about Nino, if not me.

“His dad left town after he heard I was pregnant.”

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