Page 29 of Best Kept Secret
CHAPTER 13
LOGAN
Happy stands over me as I work my way through my last rep on the bench press. I told him everything that happened over the weekend since I saw him at Ned’s. And he hasn’t wiped the stupid grin off his face because, yes, he was right; I am well and truly fucked over my teammate’s sister.
“So, what are you gonna do?” Happy asks.
“Fucked if I know,” I heave, pushing through the burn.
“Can I ask you a question?” Happy takes the load, placing the bar onto the rack when I’m done.
I sit up, wiping my face with my towel. “Sure,” I say with an eye roll, because I know he will anyway.
“Do you think maybe you should just—I dunno—tell her the truth?” He shrugs a shoulder, removing the weights for me and placing them back onto the weight rack.
I shake my head, taking a long pull from my bottle of water.
Happy looks down at me, his gaze dubious, one eye narrowed. “And there’s definitely nothing going on with you and—” His eyes flits side to side, like he’s checking for anyone within ear shot. “Hannah, right?”
My jaw clenches. “No,” I say vehemently because there isn’t. Not now. Not ever. “She’s just a friend.”
I can tell by the look in his eyes, the hint of the smirk tugging at his lips, and the way his brow quirks, that he doesn’t fully believe me. But he knows better than to piss me off by pressing me, especially after a workout.
Happy mutters something under his breath, shaking his head.
“If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”
“I mean, if you just told her the truth, none of this would even be an issue,” he says with a scoff. “She’d probably be sucking your?—”
“Don’t.” I stand, fronting up to him with a warning glower.
Happy flashes me that carefree grin, the one that could get him off a murder charge, and I can’t help but sniff a laugh. Because that’s the thing about Happy Slater; even when he says dumb shit and your fist clenches with the need to knock him out, you can’t help but love the guy. Instead of punching him, I shove him in his chest before heading for a shower.
“So, what you’re saying is baby Draper’s single…” he muses.
I glance at him over my shoulder, noticing the conspiratorial look his eyes.
“Don’t even go there, Hap,” I warn, shaking my head. “Trust me.”
“You know me, brother.” He grins. “I love a challenge.”
I roll my eyes at him as we walk into the locker rooms.
“So now Goldie wants to schedule sex,” Dallas yells over the steady spray of water echoing through the tiled bathroom. “Put it in the calendar and everything! Like a fucking therapy appointment.”
My brows knit together as I move into the stall next to Robbie, glancing curiously between the two as I turn on the water.
“What?” Happy laughs from the stall next to Dallas.
“My fiancée and I can’t have sex whenever we fucking want to anymore.”
“Millie,” Robbie says with a smirk, as if that answers that.
My ears prick at the mention of my girl. I mean… Millie.
“What does your sister have to do with your sex life?” I ask, confused, while trying to sound casual.
“She walked in on us—” Dallas considers his words. “Indisposed.”
