Текст книги "Try: 1"

Автор книги: Ella Frank

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

* * *

Logan knew he had been pushing it tonight. Hell, if there was one speed he didn’t have, it was slow. But he figured if he didn’t make his case with Tate, the opportunity—wait, when did that become a word in this scenario?—would disappear.

After that last drink, the time hit twelve thirty, and he decided he was probably now bordering on the pathetic line—especially considering he was sitting at a bar and drinking alone just so he could watch a certain bartender move around in front of him.

Logan felt the familiar stirring in his cock as he tore his attention from the other man. He got down from the bar stool and made his way into the restroom, trying to decide what he’d seen in Tate’s expression when they had been going back and forth.

Confusion was the first expression that came to mind. It hadn’t once been accompanied by disgust though, and that he could work with.

Finishing up, Logan washed his hands and stepped out into the dim corridor, leading back to the bar, where he practically ran into Amelia.

She stepped in close to him. “Leaving so soon?”

Logan glanced around, and when he saw they were alone, he peered down her black shirt and vest to where she had the top three buttons popped open. Running his tongue along his top lip in contemplation, Logan raised his eyes back to hers.

“I was about to—unless there’s a reason I should stay?”

When Amelia placed her hands on his lower abdomen, stroking his rigid muscles, Logan knew exactly where this was going.

“Well, I was thinking…”

Stepping back into the corner of the hall, Logan wasn’t surprised when she followed.

“What were you thinking?” He was now thinking about her lips around his dick.

Warm hands burrowed under his black shirt before fingers dipped into the top of his jeans. She turned her face up to him, and he watched expectantly as—ah, yes—her tongue came out to moisten her lips.

“I was thinking that I want this,” she whispered daringly as she moved her right hand down to cup him through his jeans, “in my mouth.”

Putting his hand on hers, Logan rubbed it up and down his throbbing cock.

“Then don’t let me stop you,” he invited, and then added, “Did you at least clock out? I’d hate to think you might be fired for inappropriately servicing a patron.”

Removing her hand, Amelia laughed softly as she unbuttoned his jeans and lowered the zipper. Dropping to her knees in front of him, she tugged his pants down and freed his insistent hard-on.

“Well, if worse comes to worst, we can just tell them I was giving exactly what the customer wanted.” Fisting the root of his shaft, she lowered her lips over his sensitive, swollen head.

Logan shut his eyes and imagined a different person altogether kneeling down in front of him—a person with hands as large as his own whose face revealed uncertainty and shock during their conversation tonight. He envisioned brown curls and dark eyes looking up at him as firm lips opened and took him into that mouth he wanted to taste.

As Logan moved his hands to the wall behind him, he didn’t dare open his eyes. He was too busy enjoying the fuck fantasy he was imagining in his head, and when dainty lips slid down his shaft, taking him as deep as they could toward the back of her throat, he tried not to think about the fact that he wanted it harder.

Yeah, I’m an asshole.

He bucked his hips forward into her mouth, but all he was picturing was how much quicker he’d lose his shit if he could reach out and touch cheeks that were rough with stubble—dark stubble like Tate’s.

When a small hand clutched his thigh, Logan was pulled back into reality, and his eyes slid open. That was also the moment they locked on to the man standing at the entrance of the dimly lit hall, who was staring at what was going on with an intense focus that Logan had never seen.

* * *

Tate couldn’t believe what he was looking at, and even more disturbing, he couldn’t look away.

At first, as he stood in the hall leading to the restrooms, he was hit with the visual of Logan backed up against the far corner wall, his legs parted, with Amelia kneeling at his feet. From the silent shadows, Tate could see that Logan’s head was arched back as though the pleasure was so fucking good.

That was all bad enough for Tate until he felt his cock react as though he were the one on the receiving end of Amelia’s mouth. Then, Logan’s eyes opened, and that was when Tate’s reality became one huge blur.

As his stare collided with the other man’s, Tate realized that it was Logan’s focus, not Amelia’s, that made him finally reach full-on, rock-hard, aching status—and there was nothing he could do to try to fool himself into believing otherwise.

Tate absorbed all that he was seeing as Logan moved his hands from beside the wall to direct the head moving rapidly over his cock. Tate felt his breathing accelerate as his fists clenched by his sides. Silently, he watched Logan pump his hips forward, pushing his shaft farther down his coworker’s throat, all the while looking at him and licking his lips.

Unable to make himself move, Tate found that he was entranced by the scene unfolding in front of him. He couldn’t take his eyes off the man who was eye-fucking him, while face-fucking the woman on her knees.

When Tate dropped his vision to the back of Amelia, he saw the large hands on her head, and he couldn’t help but wonder how strong they were as they flexed and fisted her blonde hair.

Jesus, I’m thinking about him touching me now? Walk the fuck away. Just turn around and walk away.

However, his feet weren’t listening to his brain, and instead of walking away, he continued to play voyeur to a man who was becoming a menace to his normally sane life.

* * *

Logan hadn’t expected this twist of events, but as he slid free from Amelia’s lips, and his gaze trailed over Tate, he felt his climax building in the base of his spine, causing his balls to tighten. There was something so depraved and deviant about being watched while performing a sexual act, but being observed by the one person he wanted and didn’t think he could have was even fucking better.

As he continued to use Amelia’s mouth, Logan remained fixated on who he really craved, Tate. Having him standing there with an expression that crossed from shock to straight-up heated lust, Logan wondered if Tate even realized how much he was giving away.

First off, Tate was not looking at Amelia. No, his attention is all on me. Second, Tate’s hands were balled up into fists as if he was trying to stop himself from touching. It was a wonder he hadn’t broken his fingers. And last, as Logan eyed Tate’s pants, he could see a bulge that made him want to push Amelia out of the way and get down on his own knees to finish his bartender off.

That was it. That was the visual Logan needed.

Parting his lips on a groan, he imagined sucking Tate’s cock into his mouth and it was all over. His balls tingled as his hands seized the blonde hair they were entangled in. Focusing on Tate, Logan watched the man’s tongue as it slipped out and slid along his bottom lip. When it disappeared back into his mouth, Logan wanted to be the one to fucking chase it, and taste inside, after he swallows, of course. He knew it was a fantasy but with that final thought, he stared at the man he truly wanted, and immediately came down Amelia’s throat instead.

Chapter Four

Tate could feel his chest rise and fall with each labored breath he took as he remained fixated on Logan, who had just very obviously come in a jaw-dropping way.

As soon as the dimly lit space went from combustible to a silent dark hallway, Tate thought, turn the hell around and go.

Do not wait to see what happens next. Move! Move! Move!

But no, he didn’t move. Instead, Tate stayed where he was and watched Logan run his hand over the back of Amelia’s head as she moved away and he licked his full bottom lip.

 Tate unconsciously moved his hand over his stiff cock, adding pressure to the ache behind his work pants. Of course, Logan didn’t miss the gesture at all. He glanced down to where Tate was rubbing himself, and his lips tipped up into a full-on arrogant-as-hell smirk.

That was what finally had Tate turning on his heel and getting the fuck out of Dodge.

What is the matter with me? Standing here and getting off on Logan? Sick fucker is screwing with my head.

Quickly, Tate made his way back out to the bar and to the break room to grab his gear. It was time to go, and he wanted to leave immediately. Punching out on the time clock, he made his way back out, hoping to God that Logan had left and wasn’t waiting out there to further torment him.

When he got to the bar, he noticed it was practically empty. He sighed with relief, until he remembered exactly why he had gone to the back restrooms in the first place.

Better if I go now than need to on the back of my damn bike.

Making his way back over to the hall, he almost made it when Logan stepped out, and they both stopped in the empty space.

Oh, this is just great.

Tate stared at the man standing opposite him. There was no expression on Logan’s face, and Tate wasn’t exactly sure he had one damn thing to say. So, he stood and waited and hoped like hell Logan would do the one thing Tate figured he would not—leave silently.

* * *

Logan counted in his head, waiting for Tate to flee, and then thought, fuck it, and went into action, not wasting any time. Taking a step forward, he felt the thrill of the chase skate up his spine as Tate automatically backed up and hit the wall behind him.

“Logan,” Tate acknowledged in a way that screamed he was trying to keep things distant, professional even.

Well, tough shit. You just watched me get head. It’s too late for distant and professional.

“Tate.”

“You just leaving?”

Logan felt his lip curl, as he saw Tate quickly look to the only means of escape. Or maybe he was checking to make sure no one was witnessing what was going on.

“I was about to since I got everything I came for. But now, I’m not in such a rush.” Logan dropped his gaze to Tate’s mouth and watched as he nervously ran his tongue over his lips, nodding.

“Well, I’m sure Amelia hasn’t left yet. She’ll be waiting for you.”

A low rumble left Logan’s chest as he raised his right hand and placed it beside Tate’s shoulder, effectively blocking his escape.

“I think we both know I’m not in the least bit interested in Amelia.”

“And I think I made it clear that I’m straight. Take a hint, sir,” Tate pointed out and glanced at the hand against the wall before turning back to him. “You need to move your arm.”

Logan straightened slowly and stroked his fingertips down the dark hardwood beside Tate’s arm. “Straight, huh? You know, funny thing is, often the straightest of trees have crooked roots.”

As he removed his hand, he angled his body closer, getting within a few inches of Tate’s.

“You forget my name?”

“No.”

“Then, don’t call me sir. It turns me on,” Logan admitted, finding that the word sir from Tate’s full lips really did turn him on.

“Doesn’t everything turn you on, Logan? You seem willing to do anything at every opportunity.”

Logan tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips. “Why not, if it feels good and someone offers? However, fucking wise? As of a few days ago, I just want one thing, and since he hasn’t punched me in the face yet, I’m thinking I may have a shot at it.”

“Like I said earlier, you’re delusional, and right now, you need to get the fuck out of my face.”

“Or?”

“Or it might just meet with my fist.”

Logan felt the blood and adrenaline pumping through his veins at the pissed-off expression crossing Tate’s face. Stepping back, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets to try and shift the erection that was once again trying to rear its head as it painfully pushed against his zipper.

“Threatening a customer? Doesn’t seem very professional. Are you upset because of what I did tonight? Or because you stood there, watching and wishing it was you on your knees instead?”

Choosing to ignore him, Tate clenched his jaw and his fists, and Logan thought it was probably smart that he had taken a step back. Tate looked explosive.

“We’re all told during training that sexual harassment will not be tolerated—by employees or customers.”

Logan tipped his head back and laughed derisively. “Oh, trust me, Tate, I haven’t started to do anything sexual to you, and for the record, I had a third drink tonight. It may have tipped me over the edge of sober.”

“A man your size? I doubt it.”

“You noticed my size? I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” Tate spat at him. He finally pushed off the wall and took a step toward Logan, lifting his head and squaring off with him. “I thought you were only inappropriate when you were sober. So, what would you call this?”

Licking his lips, Logan boldly ran his gaze down Tate’s black shirt and vest to the pants he was becoming obsessed with undoing. “I call this going after what I want.”

A waft of air brushed against Logan’s face as Tate scoffed and pushed his face in even closer to his own.

“Then, in case I’m the first, let me introduce you to what me walking away is called…”

Logan watched Tate turn and make his way into the bathroom.

Over his shoulder, Tate called out, “Rejection.”

For the life of him, Logan couldn’t decide why that made the guy even more appealing.

* * *

Tate finally made it into one of the stalls and shut it. He locked it quickly just in case Logan decided to follow him inside and do—

Hell, who knew what.

The man had no fucking boundaries. Not to mention, he seemed to have a death wish.

What if I was a homophobic asshole and decided to beat the shit out of him?

Tate turned in the stall and leaned his back against the door. Then again, the likelihood of that happening was slim. Tate could hold his own, but Logan was a big guy.

Lifting a hand, Tate ran it over his face and up through his shaggy hair. Squeezing the back of his head. He tried to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking as he brushed both of his palms down the front of his thighs, and realized for the first time that he was still sporting a major erection.

Jesus, he thought as he jammed his hand against the traitorous cock in his pants, what the fuck is Logan doing to me?

Tate had no answers. All he could hope for was that the guy would be gone when he came back out and that he would not turn up tomorrow night.

* * *

“You’re leaving?” Logan heard from behind him as he made his way to the front door of the bar.

He turned to see Amelia jogging over, slinging her purse on her shoulder. Her blonde hair was now tied back for the evening, and her cheeks were a nice rosy pink from their earlier activities.

Logan shrugged into his black jacket and looked down at her with a wink. “I was about to. You just get off?”

“Not yet,” she replied with a saucy grin, tucking her hands into her black pants, pushing her breasts up into his face. “Want to help with that?”

Logan was positive the answer here was yes. He was single, she was single, and they could so go back to his place and finish what they started. But he also knew that she was not the person he wanted.

As he looked just beyond her shoulder, he saw Tate come back out from the hall, and he glanced around the emptying space. Their eyes met, and then Tate moved his to Amelia. Logan wasn’t surprised at the contempt he saw crossing the other man’s features.

Why the hell not?

Logan touched Amelia’s chin and looked down, so they were eye-to-eye. “I’d love some company if you’d like to join me.”

The smile that slowly spread across her lips made Logan’s cock take notice, and he was relieved to know that it still functioned without him looking at Tate.

She let her top teeth bite into that ripe bottom lip as she nodded. “I’d like.”

“Good.” He took her hand. “Just so happens, so would I.”

* * *

Tate pushed through the front door of the crappy apartment he’d moved into after the divorce, and threw his black backpack along with his jacket on the floor. Moving down the narrow foyer, he placed his helmet on the kitchen countertop and made his way to the fridge where he opened it and took out a beer. He was about to shut the door, but at the last minute, he grabbed a second.

Well, if ever there is a night for two beers, tonight is it.

Slumping down onto his couch, he picked up the remote and turned on the TV as he kicked off his boots. As the sports channel replayed a baseball game from earlier, Tate uncapped the first beer and took a large gulp.

After undoing the buttons on his vest, he lifted his hips and pulled his shirt from his waistband, sighing at finally being able to relax and unwind. As he started to zone out, he lifted the drink back to his lips and took another gulp, reflecting on everything that had happened and his own reaction to it. He knew that Logan was no doubt screwing Amelia’s brains out, and he was happy to find that the thought of that was welcome.

Why? Because, otherwise, he might have gone home to jerk off while thinking of me?

Finishing the first beer, Tate reached out and grabbed the second.

Taking it with his left hand, he tilted it up to his mouth, and all of a sudden, he had a flash of Logan looking at him while Amelia was sucking his cock. Tate recalled the way Logan’s eyes had seemed to spark and heat. If it was physically possible to feel heat from a look, then Tate could have sworn he had felt it lick along his skin at that precise moment.

Tate just needed to be more alert when Logan was around. Logan had admitted he flirted with anything that talked, but that didn’t mean Tate needed to worry. Surely, Logan wouldn’t push anything that wasn’t welcome.

And it is not welcome, Tate told himself as he glared down at his currently under control lap.

Whatever had happened earlier was just some kind of involuntary chemical or physical reaction.

Something that couldn’t be helped, right?

Yeah, right.

He was pretty sure it wasn’t normal for a straight man to get a raging erection from a guy coming, but then again, he had nothing to compare it to.

I just need to get laid.

Starting to feel more relaxed, Tate shuffled further down into his couch and assured himself that was all it was as he cradled his beer.

I’m frustrated. I just need to find a woman. Of course, I’m going to get hard while watching a guy like Logan getting head, especially with all the sex talk he threw around.

The guy was basically a walking hormone.

It was only natural, right?

Chapter Five

Saturday, Sunday, and Monday passed by without incident.

Thank God for minor miracles, Tate thought as he rode to work on Tuesday evening.

Sunday and Monday were his days off, and Logan had stayed away from the bar Saturday night. The only reason Tate knew that was because his dumb ass had watched the door all night.

Logan had managed to somehow stay on his mind all the way through lunch at his mother’s on Sunday where she and his sister, Jill, had spent half of the conversation grilling him about his love life. It irritated Tate to no end that all he could think about was the fact that the most intimate contact he’d recently had was with a guy who wouldn’t leave him alone, but he didn’t think his mother would appreciate that little tidbit. Actually, his entire family would flip out.

Today though, he was determined to move past it all. Fixating on a stranger in the bar was not smart in any way, especially when that stranger was male. He needed to find a woman to focus on.

A hot, curvy, available woman.

Pushing through the bar’s front door, Tate carried his helmet under his arm and made his way over to the bar pass where he saw Amelia wiping down the counter. She must have arrived early, which was fine by him because it gave him a little extra time to clock in.

Once in the break room, he quickly hung his jacket and placed the helmet on top of a crate. The door swung open, and Tate turned to see Amelia come through, pushing a towel into the waist of her pants.

Tate looked over his shoulder at her and gave a friendly smile. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” She leaned her hip up against a table opposite him.

“You have a nice weekend?” Tate asked conversationally.

Amelia nodded, giving him a sassy wink. “Yep, sure did. Went out with some friends Sunday night. What about you? Anything exciting?”

Tate laughed, shaking his head. “Ah, that’d be a negative unless you count going to my parents’ for lunch after church exciting?”

Amelia’s eyebrows rose as she scrunched her face. “Um, no. I don’t call that exciting at all. Torture maybe?”

“Torture is exactly right,” Tate mumbled as he punched in.

There was a slight pause in the conversation and then, “So, Tate, you dating anyone right now?”

Jesus, not her, too.

Looking over his shoulder, he noticed she was focused on his ass. “Nope. Not right now.”

If he were smart, he’d ask her if she was dating anyone either. Tate didn’t think hooking up with Logan for one night counted. Maybe he could finally put an end to his sexual frustration. She did have a nice set of breasts, and her ass was perky and round, just how he liked it. But like an idiot, he didn’t. That didn’t stop her though.

“Me neither.”

Tate faced her, pushing his hands into his pockets, and before he even knew it, he opened his mouth. “What about Logan?”

Immediately knowing it was the wrong thing to say, he watched her face light up as she moved in close, placing her hand on his arm.

“Logan is…Logan,” she replied with a small shrug.

She went to move past him, and Tate let her, but not before asking, “What does that mean?”

She chuckled as they made their way into the main bar area.

“Logan’s got high standards, but he’s also the kind to try anything that captures his attention. That’s what makes it so much fun to make him yours.” She paused and stared into the mirror at the back of the bar. She pulled out a tube of lip gloss from her pocket, painted her mouth, and stuffed it back into her pants. “For the night at least.”

Tate frowned at her casual assessment of using someone for sex, and he wondered why it made him feel bad for Logan. It wasn’t like Logan gave a shit where he stuck his cock. He would be the first to admit that.

“Well, I’ll take your word for it.” Tate moved around her and was about to head out to the bar.

“You don’t have to, you know.”

Stopping, Tate rounded back to see a sneaky grin come across her innocent-looking face. “Excuse me?”

She sidled up close and touched his hand, which was resting on the bench for support—or from the shock of the comment, he wasn’t sure.

Have I really been out of the dating game for so long that this shit is now normal to discuss?

“He’d let you join in with us.”

Tate swallowed once and shifted his feet, looking down at the small hand covering his. When he felt his cock harden, he wondered exactly which part of the scenario it was reacting to—the thought of Amelia naked, the invitation to a threesome, or the man who would watch him as he slid inside the woman now peering up at him.

Removing his hand slowly, Tate made sure not to say anything offensive as he shook his head. “Nah, not really my thing. After a bad relationship, lunch at my mother’s is about as much excitement as I can handle for a while.”

Amelia tilted her head to the side and batted her eyelashes as she giggled. “Maybe it’s time to let us corrupt you.”

Somehow, Tate figured she wasn’t the one who would do the corrupting. That particular person was missing for this conversation, yet somehow, his fingerprints were all over it.

“I don’t think so, but thanks for the, uh…invite.”

Just as Amelia was about to reply, a noise from the door had them turning to see four businessmen, mid-twenties, pile into the almost empty bar. With that, she turned to Tate and indicated with a tilt of her head that she would take them.

She gave him a quick wink. “No hard feelings. The offer is open.”

I’m sure it is, Tate thought, moving to the opposite end of the bar, but it’s a little too open for me.

* * *

Logan sat behind his desk, staring at the clock on the wall. It was just turning seven, and he could still hear a few people moving around in the outer office.

His weekend had passed by without too much incident. He’d heard briefly from his mother about her visiting in a few months, but as usual, she’d been all over the place, and she hadn’t officially given him a date. She was still deciding if she wanted to stay with the new boyfriend or come and see him for Memorial Day weekend. It was sad that Logan couldn’t even find the desire to try and convince her to pick him. He’d given up that fight a long time ago.

After the night with Amelia, he’d decided to skip the bar on Saturday to give Tate some downtime. Time to simmer.

Time was up though. It had been three days, and Logan was definitely heading there tonight.

Tate was a walking contradiction. Although relaxed and easygoing with others, he always became unsettled around him. And when Logan went out of his way to push a boundary, Tate either stood mute or pushed back. Not once, however, had he gotten overly angry or violent.

It excited Logan—just thinking about getting into an argument with him and ending it with Tate bent over something. Yes, the idea of grappling with Tate was a very appealing one.

As Logan was adjusting the hard-on in his pants, there was a knock on the door. Calling out for the person to come in, he was surprised when Cole stuck his head inside.

“Well, hello. What are you doing here so late? Don’t you have a hot wife to bed?”

Cole stepped inside and pushed the right side of his jacket out of his way, as he stuffed his hand into his pocket. “The hot wife is out with the girls, and I wasn’t invited. And Mason and Josh are watching football, which I hate.”

After making sure he was decent, Logan stood and made his way around to his business partner and half-brother. “Aw, and you’re lonely? Well, as flattering as it is that I am your last choice, I have something to do tonight.”

Cole raised a blond brow at him. “Something to do? Or someone?”

Logan didn’t take offense as he moved to the couch by the window. He picked up his gray jacket and shrugged into it. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Come on, you know you miss it.”

“Miss what? Hit-or-miss sex? No. Call me logical, but I much prefer having guaranteed hot sex with my wife whenever the hell I want it.”

Logan barely resisted rolling his own eyes, but he’d known Rachel for a long time now, and the woman was sexy, no doubt about it.

“Yes, well, there’s no need to be a show-off. It makes you ugly.”

Cole stood exactly where he was, silent as usual when he wanted something.

Logan grabbed his briefcase and sighed. “Okay, fine. Want to come with me?”

“Yep.”

“Wow, you are desperate.”

“No, I’m not, and it’s been too long since we hung out.”

“Well, that’s true. Okay, I was heading down to After Hours. Does that work for you?” Logan moved past Cole and shut off the light.

Apparently it did, because that was where they turned up ten minutes later.

* * *

Tate had just finished with a rush of customers when a tall blond man took a seat at the end of the bar. Making his way in that direction, Tate was ready to take his order when the seat beside the guy was filled by—fuck—Logan.

The two men were chatting, and the blond must have said something particularly funny because Logan let out a loud laugh and slapped his palm on the bar top. Deciding to just suck it up and deal with the cards he was dealt, Tate stopped in front of the two just as Logan turned to him.

Tate made it a point to look at the blond. The guy could’ve been an actor or a model. He was so well put together. Like Logan, he was wearing a suit and palming a cell phone, but unlike Logan, his expression was the usual distant friendly one of a stranger sitting down for a drink. Tate didn’t think Logan had ever looked at him like that once since they had met.

“Hi. What can I get for you tonight?”

Tate waited as the blond brought his free hand to his chin. He rubbed it once and then looked to Logan.

“You getting your usual?”

Tate watched the exchange curiously.

“You know me, creature of habit.”

The blond laughed at that and turned back to Tate.

“I’ll have a scotch, thanks. Macallan, if you have it, and this guy will have a gin and tonic.”

Tate flicked his eyes to Logan’s, framed once again by black glasses.

“Anything to eat?” Tate hoped the spark he saw there didn’t mean he was about to be handed his ass.

“Nothing to eat,” Logan told him, and as Tate was about to move away, he added, “Right now.”

Choosing to ignore that, Tate turned away to grab the scotch off the back shelf, but he kept his focus on the two men in the mirror he was facing. Logan was angled toward the blond and was chuckling at whatever the much more serious guy had said.

He wondered how they knew each other. Maybe they work together? That’s the most logical explanation, Tate thought, until he saw Logan push the big guy’s arm and leave his palm on his bicep in a familiar fashion. Or maybe they are something altogether different. Lovers, maybe?

Turning back to them, Tate pushed the drinks across the bar top, and with a quick, “Thanks,” from them, that was it. Over, painless, easy—right?

Walking away from the men, Tate found that he was relieved, yet at the same time, he was also experiencing a different emotion, an emotion he didn’t understand—anger.

He was pissed-off. All of last week, this guy, this stranger, had decided to wreak havoc on his brain. Not to mention, all weekend it had bothered him and made him worry about coming to work today.

And now, this! Fucking nothing? After all that worry? But then again, did I want something to happen?

Logan was lucky that Tate wasn’t a violent man because, at that precise moment, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to keep his fists to himself.

* * *

“So, that’s him?” Cole deduced as the bartender turned and walked away.

“Yep, that’s him. What do you think?”

Cole lifted the tumbler to his mouth and took a sip of scotch. “I think he hates your guts.”

Logan shrugged. “Yeah, I think you might be right.”

“I also think he’s straight.”