Page 3 of Best Kept Secret
“Fuck’s sake…” Logan mutters after a few minutes.
I turn to see him glaring down at his cell phone. “Bad news?”
He flashes me a look that piques not only my interest, but my concern too.
“What is it?”
Rolling his eyes, he turns his phone to me and I lean in, squinting a little to read the tiny text displayed on the screen.
Tex: I’m going home with Charlotte. She’s so fucking hot, man. Thanks.
Tex: Can you make sure my sister gets into a cab and pay the driver? I’ll fix you up for the cash tomorrow.
Tex: And don’t fucking touch her.
Honestly, it takes all I have not to scream.
Not only has my brother ditched me for a pair of walking tits, but then he has the straight up audacity to warn his teammate not to touch me? Look updouble standardin Webster’s dictionary, and I swear to God, you’ll see a photo of Dallas’s big fat face grinning back at you like a smug asshole.
“Come on, Red,” Logan says, hopping up. “Let’s go find you a cab.”
I frown at him, at the obnoxious and totally unoriginal nickname he’s bestowed upon me and, with a huff, I grab my purse from the small table littered with empty bottles and glasses and follow him out.
Outside, the night air whips against my tequila heated cheeks as I follow Logan down the sidewalk to the taxi line that is, unsurprisingly, long as hell.Great. I throw my head back on a groan.
“You can just go,” I tell him as I join the end of the queue. “I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit your teammate’slittle sister,” I say with serious derision because I’m still sopissed at my brother. He invites me to dinner and then ditches me for a puck bunny? Typical Dallas Shaw behavior.
Logan moves next to me, hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers and, with a wry smile, he rocks on his feet. “Trust me, standing here with you beats going back to the hotel to share a room with a snoring, farting behemoth who sleeps naked and has the world’s hairiest ass.”
I grimace at the image playing in my head. “I forgot how gross hockey players are.”
“Hey!” He nudges me playfully with his shoulder, flashing me the kind of grin that I’m sure has the power to make panties fall to the floor. “We’re notallgross.”
I feel my cheeks flush, and I force myself to look away quickly, which is when my phone starts vibrating from my purse. Pulling it out, I see my roommate’s name on the screen, and I don’t know why, but dread curls around my stomach because, somehow, I just know this can’t be good.
“Hey, B,” I answer.
“Ohmygod, where are you?”
“In the city,” I say, equal parts confused and cautious because she sounds panicked. “I met my brother for dinner. Why?”
“Parker is here.”
My heart sinks into the pit of my ass at the mention of my ex-boyfriend. “Parker iswhere?”
“Literally downstairs. In our living room.” Bianca scoffs with disgust. “I just got home from work and the girls are throwing an afterparty, and he’s… here, reeking of sweat, draft beer, and pure audacity. I told him to get the hell out, but he said he’s not leaving until he sees you.”
“Oh, my God…” Anxiety coils in my chest, gripping my heart to the point of pain.
Logan touches my arm, startling me. I look up at him to see his face veiled with obvious concern, brows drawn together. “What’s wrong?”
I pull my phone away. “My roommates are throwing somesort of party, and my asshole ex-boyfriend is there.” I go back to Bianca. “Is he drunk, B?”
“His face is all splotchy and his right eye is doing that droopy thing, and they’ve been at the Sigma Pi party since noon, so… all signs point to white-boy wasted.”
I close my eyes on a heavy exhale because sober Parker is bad enough. Drunk Parker is something else entirely. I glance up at Logan, taken aback to see him holding his hand out. “Give me the phone.”
I look from my phone to him and back again, but after a few seconds hesitation, he takes it from me, and I watch on, rendered frozen.
