In one corner of the modern living room, there’s a whole buffet that’s clearly been catered by a world-class chef. The food is up on silver platters with heating lamps and delicate accoutrement I’d probably mistakenly eat only to find out after that it’s only for show. It all looks amazing, and there are tons of tiny samples of tasty treats, but absolutely no one is eating. I see a woman pass by the table, stutter-step, glance down longingly at some pasta dish, and then dash away from it like it might make her arse grow two sizes right then and there if she doesn’t get away quick enough.
But it’s the sight at the very end of the table that catches my eye. It’s like one of those childhood puzzles: Find What Doesn’t Belong. Next to the fancy silver platters and serving dishes, there’s a big red bowl of crisps. Salt and vinegar, just as I requested.
I nearly topple over in sheer bliss. Not only has he thought of me, it’s obvious what he intended by leaving them out like that. I don’t even bother cluing in Kat or Yasmine. They wouldn’t get it. You see the crisps are actually this huge romantic gesture! But they’re just crisps. Right, but he asked specifically what kind I wanted! He could have asked you for your favorite flower if he wanted to be romantic.
Besides, even if I thought they’d agree about how sweet the gesture is, I don’t get the chance to bring it up, because just then, across the living room, I finally spot Logan.
The sight of him is a punch straight to my stomach. He’s wearing dark jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt pushed up to his elbows. He’s shaven his jaw so it’s smooth and sharp. His hair looks divine, the short strands almost curly. He’s so dark and moody you want to think he’d be a real arsehole, but I know the truth. I know he’s put out that bowl of crisps for me. I know how sweet he is underneath all those layers of muscle.
The only problem is I can’t quite get to him. There are half a dozen women around him, stuck to him like macaroni on a child’s art piece. They’re glued in place so that if he shifts an inch to the left, so do they.
If I want to talk to him, I’ll have to join the queue.
Chapter Six
Logan
I’m going to kill Darius. No, not just kill him—I’ll be sure to torture him first. Slowly. This party was his idea. C’mon, you need to celebrate your achievements! You’re at the top of your game!
I relented because I didn’t want to be a stick in the mud, but I told him, firmly, that I only wanted ten people here.
He countered with fifty.
I told him twenty-five max.
He didn’t argue after that and I assumed I’d gotten my way, but now I see that’s only because the asshole wasn’t listening to me anyway. He planned on doing it his way the entire time.
To say I’m uncomfortable with this many people in my apartment is an understatement. I keep glancing over to make sure no one is sneaking off down the hall toward my bedroom. In my life, practically nothing is sacred. The press knows every detail about every person, place, or thing in my world, sometimes before I do. This apartment has always been my sanctuary.
At least it was before tonight.
“I can’t believe how nice your apartment is. Did you design it yourself?”
The question is asked by a pretty girl with a pretty face wearing a pretty dress. She told me her name when her friends cornered me a few minutes ago, but how am I supposed to remember it when there’s a baker’s dozen of them all talking at once?
“Uh, no. I don’t even remember. Maybe it came this way?”
My move to New York was all a blur. I finished playing football in college, signed a deal with the pros, moved from Florida on a Sunday and was due at practice the very next morning. My agent helped me find this place and set up the move. I don’t even think I unpacked a single box. I got home after practice and my life was set up for me, cable and all.
“Well the location is great. You’ve got the city at your fingertips.”
When she says fingertips, hers reach out to touch my arm, and I glance down, more than a little annoyed. Where’s Darius? This is his party. These are his friends. I know like ten people here, and they’re all my teammates.
I hear a familiar voice and glance up to see Melody cutting through the crowd of women to get to me. I’m relieved to see her up until she wraps me in a hug then lays a possessive arm around my waist as she steps to take the place at my side.
“You sure know how to draw a crowd,” she teases.
I let her keep her arm around me for a second, and then as graciously as possible, I step out of her hold.
“You have Darius to thank for that.”
She laughs and crosses her arms, her expression tightening slightly as I pull away from her. “No, I mean these girls.”
The jealousy is a little unwarranted considering I’ve made it clear I don’t see us moving forward. After our second date, it was pretty obvious to me that I have absolutely no feelings for her. We haven’t talked since then and I didn’t even invite her here tonight, but I guess Darius took it upon himself to do that too.
“What have you been up to these last few weeks? Busy as usual?” She doesn’t give me time to reply before continuing, “God, District was so fun.”
Was it? I felt like an ass for ignoring her for half the night. I assumed she was as done with me as I was with her.
“Are you two friends?”
This question is asked by one of the women standing around us, and it’s perfect timing, actually, because I spot Candace across the room and my heart starts to thunder in my chest. She came. She’s here. She’s over by the food and she’s somehow managed to corral one of the circulating waiters. Instead of taking food from his tray, she’s just talking to him, as if all the famous people in the room mean nothing to her. She’d rather spend her night talking with the hired help.
He throws his head back and laughs, and she’s laughing too. Then he says something and goes over to load up his tray with more tiny portions he can dole out to the crowd. She reaches out for his tray, asking him something, and he passes it over, letting her hold it while he fills it up.
He nods in thanks and leaves to continue doing his job. Now she’s left all alone.
I’m not sure if her roommates came with her, but they’re not by her side now. She glances around and then, seemingly at a loss for what to do, she sort of starts to bob to the music before finally noticing me watching her.
She beams and lifts her hand, waving enthusiastically.
I wave back as my stomach clenches tight, and it’s obvious why. She’s so beautiful, like she’s the only one in the room with a real pulse.
That red dress is a blaring fire engine drawing my attention. It’s cut so short on her legs, and they look miles long even though they can’t be; she’s not that tall. Her blonde hair is curly and loose, framing her sweet face and red lips. She’s a candy confection standing there all alone.
She keeps my attention and holds up her finger as she steps back to motion at the chip bowl. She makes a real show of reaching in to grab one then winks at me as she pops it into her mouth.
I’m totally enamored, a smile stretching so wide across my face my cheeks start to ache.