So now Quinn was the only person who uttered my boyfriend’s name while the rest of the women avoided all mention of him. I had to admit, that stung. I didn’t think Guy was the man I’d end up spending the rest of my life with, but I enjoyed his company and he didn’t pressure me into sleeping with him. Something that after three months of dating would’ve been the next step in a committed relationship. Something I’d put the brakes on but couldn’t put my finger on why—and I refused to acknowledge that Logan could’ve been the reason I was holding back. It wasn’t fair to Guy and I’d promised myself I’d work through my feelings while he was on his business trip. He’d be home in a few days and I still didn’t have answers. Hell, I wasn’t even sure what questions I had. But something just felt off.
“Yeah, he’s in California through the weekend. His flight doesn’t get in until Monday night.”
“Then you won’t object to brunch with the girls on Sunday.”
I loved brunch with the girls. But this time when Quinn mentioned it my tummy clenched thinking about the awkwardness.
“Yeah, that sounds great, too,” I semi-lied.
On one hand, it sounded wonderful spending time with my friends. On the other, it almost felt like an ambush. I knew one or all of them had something to say about Guy but they were trying to be gentle with me. Everyone who worked at Triple Canopy handled me like I needed a fluffy bed of cotton to cushion any falls I might take.
There was a knock at my door and I groaned at the thought of having to get up.
“I gotta go, someone’s at the door.”
“Check the peephole,” Quinn unnecessarily reminded me.
“Yes, mother,” I chirped.
“You won’t be so sassy when you check your peephole one day and are happy you didn’t open your door to a serial killer.”
“And I’d know he was a serial killer because…”
“They wear shirts that say, I kill and mutilate stupid women who don’t check their peepholes.”
“Right. Did your dad teach you that?”
“Nope. My mom. My dad taught me how to turn the tables and be the one mutilating and dismembering.”
There was another knock, this one impatient.
“Lauren,” Quinn’s voice warned.
“Yes. I’ll check the peephole.”
“Bye, see you tomorrow.”
Quinn disconnected and I tossed my phone on the coffee table, groaning as I pushed myself to standing. My abs and thighs protested and as I slowly made my way to the door my calves cramped.
I took a deep breath and fought back the curse that was dying to spill out. I stopped at the door and leaned in to check the peephole.
My insides froze, then they burned.
“Go away!”
“I need to talk to you, Ren,” Logan called back.
No, now my insides burned. Logan was the only one who called me Ren. The stupid nickname was not a shortening of my name. It was born from him catching me working at the TC gym wearing a Ren and Stimpy tee.
I loved that he called me Ren just as much as I hated it.
“Go. Away.”
“Open the door or I’ll open it.”
“Why are you such an asshole?”
Logan didn’t answer. The doorknob twisted and the door crept open. As quickly as my protesting muscles would allow I moved back before the door hit me.
“Get out and go away, Logan. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”
I hobbled back to the couch and whimpered as I sat back down.
After some deep breathing and a good mental scolding on my stupidity, I chanced a look at the most irritatingly handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on. He wasn’t leaving. No, not Logan. He didn’t do anything I asked. It was his way or the highway. He controlled every interaction. Every damn thing was on his terms on his timeframe.
So. Annoying.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know what happened, you tell me. You’re the one who barged in here saying you needed to talk.”
His stupid, beautiful, hazel eyes narrowed as he stalked closer.
“Why are you limping, what happened?”
“Addy happened. Now, why are you here?”
“Addy?”
“Yes, Logan. Addy. You know, Adalynn Walker. Our boss’s sister. Hadley’s evil twin. The sadist who talked me into working out with her.”
The stiffness in his shoulders fled and he visibly relaxed. What a joke. Logan Haines didn’t give the first two shits about me.
“We need to talk about Guy Stevens,” he announced.
My spine went straight and my back cramped at the same time, making me wince.
“You’re totally dehydrated, Ren. Did you drink any water today before you worked out?”
“Get out!”
I wasn’t talking to him about my water intake, mostly because I hated water so I knew he was right. I also needed to get up and get an Aleve before the pain got worse. But more importantly, I was not talking to him about Guy.
No freaking way.
“I need you to listen to me. He’s not a good guy—”
Not this shit again.
“Stop.” I got to my feet, and with the anger now pumping in my veins, the pain barely registered. “I’m not listening to this shit again. I don’t care why you don’t like him but he’s a good man. He treats me with kindness and respect. There’s nothing you’re gonna say to me that’s gonna make me change my mind.”
“Where is he?”
“None of your business.”
“Tell me, Ren, where’d he tell you he was going? Because if it’s not Atlanta then he fucking lied.”
Atlanta?
Logan, Matt, Brady, and Trey were just in Atlanta. I know because I booked their hotel rooms.
“Guy’s not in Atlanta, he’s in California.”
“He sure as fuck is not in California. He’s in Atlanta staying at the Imperial.”
That didn’t make any sense. I talked to Guy early this afternoon. It was morning for him and he was getting ready to go into meetings all day so he called to say hello before he got busy. See? Totally thoughtful. And yesterday he called me as I was getting into bed to say goodnight before he had a late dinner. We talked for thirty minutes about how horrible the traffic was and how he couldn’t wait to get back to the Georgia humidity because it was better than the Southern California smog.
“You’re a liar. I want you to leave.”
Everything about Logan softened.
Every. Thing.
I’d never seen his eyes so gentle. This new look made him look a little less predatory. My heart rate picked up and instinct told me to brace. I didn’t like anything about the way he was looking at me—almost guilty, sad, empathetic.
“Ren, babe, I’m not lying to you. Matt and I saw Guy at the Imperial last night.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Guts me to tell you this but he wasn’t alone.”
Wasn’t alone?
“What do you mean he—”
“He was with a woman.”
Time stood still.
Logan’s eyes latched onto mine and I was right—empathy, clear as day.
No. I had to be reading him wrong. Guy wouldn’t cheat on me. No way, not when he was the one making all the effort. He was the one who called me more than I called him. He put the work in and had hounded me until I agreed on a date. Maybe hounded wasn’t right, but he’d chased me. Told me I was beautiful and funny and he loved spending time with me. He was always pushing for more dates. Hell, it was his idea to be exclusive. I wasn’t stupid; I knew he’d suggested it so I’d know he was serious about being with me to get me into bed sooner rather than later. I also knew men cheated but why would Guy chase me if he wanted to screw other women?