Page 24 of Logan
“I’m not on shift yet,” I tell her.
She lifts her hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say a word. I’m just glad you’re here.”
We fall into our usual rhythm stocking the bar. “Anything I should keep stocked for your brother’s table?” I ask.
“Nope. He doesn’t drink.”
That stops me. “Wait, really?”
She shrugs. “Don’t ask me why. I’ve told him whiskey might take the stick out of his ass, but I’ve never seen him drink.”
I think back. She’s right. The only time I ever remember Logan being drunk was the night after he broke up with me. My phone ringing at 2 a.m., his voice slurred and raw.I fucking love you, Kenzie.
I push the memory away hard. That boy is gone.
The party kicks off at ten. Logan comes in to grab something, only to have everyone jump out and yellsurprise. The room erupts with cheers, the smell of beer, bodies crowding him until the noise fades and people scatter to their tables.
Naturally, Logan picks a table in my section.
I walk up, forcing a neutral tone. “Happy birthday. What can I get you?”
“Just a coke.” His voice is flat, emotionless.
Darcy appears at his side like she belongs there. “Actually, Mackenzie, why don’t you grab my man a birthday shot?”
Herman? I almost laugh. Logan would never actually choose someone like her.
“I said, I’ll have a coke. I can speak for myself, Darcy.” He doesn’t even glance her way.
I give her a polite, cutting smile. “Got it.”
At the bar, I grab the drink and a few others for nearby tables. On my way back, Darcy blocks me.
“You can stop looking at him like some lovesick teenager. He doesn’t want you.”
I smile, all teeth. “You’d definitely know how that feels. Thanks for the advice.” I shoulder past her, keeping it professional.
The rest of the night is a blur of music, shouts, and clinking glasses. Logan laughs with the guys but never once meets my gaze. He turns away every girl who tries to flirt, but still manages to keep me at arm’s length.
By two a.m., the crowd thins.
“Hey, Mac?” Shaina calls.
I look up.
“Any chance you can lock up tonight? I’ve got an early morning.”
“No problem. Get some rest.”
Once the last door is locked, I step out the back. The door clicks shut behind me and I instantly realize my keys are still behind the bar.
“Fuck.” I tug on the handle, but it’s solid.
It’s a twenty-minute walk into town. My phone’s dead. No other option.
The road is quiet except for my footsteps. Until it’s not.
A motorcycle’s low growl grows louder behind me.
