Since I was a kid, making it into the World Hockey League was the ultimate goal. No relationship could match my first love, and after my rough childhood, I wasn't putting my heart on the line.
When Bellerive makes a successful bid to move the Califo...
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"Did you get everything you need?" Logan asks, wiping sweat off his forehead with a towel, his bicep flexing, after I jot down the last set of numbers.
He's shirtless and glistening. I've been so focused on making sure I didn't screw up this evaluation, that right now is the first time I've fully absorbed the glory of his professional athlete physique. Really athletic guys haven't set me on fire in the past, but there's something about the way his muscles ripple with the simplest movement, the fact he absolutely demolished all these test sets, that's sinfully sexy.
It's an unfortunate time to realize I might have an elite athlete kink.
At least I'm sure it's not him I'm attracted to—not really—it's his talent.
And maybe his physical appearance, which is a result of his talent.
My phone on the bench in the workout room lights up, and I glance at it. Ava, again. She's been sending a flurry of voice memos to the family group chat for the last hour. I'm guessing Dad told her about his Wino Wine Bar plan for tonight.
"Do you need to get that?" Logan nods at my phone.
"Nope." I scan the clipboard to make sure I've gotten all the essential tests done to establish a baseline. "It's just my sister."
"Which one?"
His question registers a beat later, and I glance up, surprised. "You know I have more than one?"
"Season's just starting. I was bored. Looked you up."
"You googled me?"
"Yes?"
Then I register that he said he was bored, and my earlier conversation with Alex and my father rings in my ears. The fine line that I'll have to walk makes me roll my shoulders with discomfort.
"My sister—Ava—is hosting a party at Wino Wine Bar tonight." When I see his disinterested expression, I adjust my sales pitch. "Not even a party. A gathering. Of a few people. Help the team and their partners get acclimatized to the island."
"You going?"
"I am. Do you want to go?"
"Not really." He tosses the towel toward the bench. "Just the team?"
"I'd have to check Ava's eight thousand voice memos to be sure before I make any promises."
"Ah," he says, a hint of a smile. "So, it might be more of a party than a gathering."
"I mean, a gathering is a low-key party."
"Is it?"
"For sure. A gathering is an entry level party."
"For the inexperienced?"
"Or for those who would prefer not to have the experience at all."
Another ghost of a smile. "I feel like you're calling me antisocial."
