Sin Bin Page 12

  Meadow gave her a wary look. “What is it?”

  Bianca slowed for a red light. “Don’t get mad.”

  “I won’t. Just say it.”

  “Well…I was chatting with Nadia and Scarlett in the restroom after dinner. They were saying how sweet you are and how much they like you. Also…they think there’s a strong possibility you might be in denial about your feelings for Logan.”

  Meadow felt her hackles rise. “How do they know? They just met me.”

  “True. And maybe it was presumptuous of them to offer an opinion.” Bianca’s expression softened as she looked at Meadow. “But I happen to agree with them.”

  Heat flooded Meadow’s face. She frowned and looked down at her phone in her lap, which she’d pulled out to look up the lyrics to another song.

  Bianca sighed. “I was afraid you’d get mad. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “It’s okay. I’m not mad. It’s just…well, you’re all mistaken. I don’t have feelings for Logan.”

  “Not even a little?” Bianca probed, holding her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Just a teensy-weensy bit?”

  “Nope.” Meadow stared out the window at the passing scenery. “Logan’s not the kind of guy you let yourself fall for. Unless you’re a sadist. Which I’m not.”

  “He might not be that kind of guy right now,” Bianca conceded. “But anyone can change.”

  Meadow shook her head slowly. “Not him.”

  No sooner had the words left her mouth than her phone lit up with Logan’s name and number. She glanced self-consciously at Bianca, who peeked at her phone screen and broke into a knowing grin.

  “Speak of the devil.”

  You have no idea.

  “Aren’t you gonna answer it?” Bianca prompted.

  Meadow shook her head, letting the call go to voicemail.

  Bianca humphed her disapproval.

  Seconds later the phone started buzzing again.

  Bianca looked gleefully amused. “He’s gonna keep calling, girl, so you might as well just see what he wants.”

  Meadow stared down at her illuminated phone, then took a deep breath and hit ANSWER. “Um…hey, Logan.”

  “Hey, Jupiter.”

  Her toes curled at the sound of his deep voice. “What’s up?”

  “Viggo just called and told me you had dinner with Scarlett and the girls.”

  “I did,” she confirmed. “Bianca is the sorority sister I mentioned. Small world, right? She’s taking me home now.”

  “Heyyy, Logan,” Bianca cooed toward the phone.

  He chuckled. “Tell her I said hey.”

  “He says hey,” she relayed to Bianca, who giggled like an infatuated adolescent.

  Meadow rolled her eyes.

  “So, listen,” Logan said offhandedly, “I was thinking about dropping by for a few minutes.”

  Her pulse leaped. “Tonight?”

  “Yeah. That cool?”

  “Uhh…” She was all too aware of Bianca shamelessly eavesdropping. “It’s getting kinda late—”

  “I know. I won’t stay long.”

  There was something in his voice. Something urgent and needy that tugged at her heartstrings.

  “Okay,” she acquiesced.

  She thought she heard him exhale in relief before he said, “I’ll meet you at your aunt’s.”

  “Okay. See you soon.” She clicked off and sat there gnawing her bottom lip.

  Bianca sent her an intuitive smile. “No feelings, huh?”

  Meadow didn’t respond.

  When they reached Aunt Rosalie’s house, Bianca pulled into the empty driveway. It was just after nine o’clock, so her aunt wouldn’t be home for a few more hours.

  Bianca put the car in park. “The girls and I are flying to New York next week for the dress fittings, but we’ll be back on Sunday.” She leaned over the seat and hugged Meadow. “Call me when you get back to town. We’ll have lunch on your first or second day at the new job.”

  “Sounds good.” Meadow smiled. “Thanks again for dinner. I really enjoyed meeting the girls.”

  “The feeling was mutual. I’m so glad you’re moving here.” Bianca’s eyes twinkled. “And I know I’m not the only one.”

  Meadow ignored the last remark and climbed out of the car just as a Harley-Davidson motorcycle roared up to the curb. The rider was wearing a black leather jacket, black jeans and heavy black boots.

  When he pulled off his helmet and made eye contact with Meadow, her heart jackhammered as if to break free from her chest and run off with him.

  Bianca buzzed down her window and stuck her head out, craning her neck to leer at Logan. “My, my, my,” she purred lasciviously.

  Meadow barely heard her over the thundering motorcycle engine. Just when she thought Logan would wake up the whole neighborhood, he shut off the motor. Pushing down the kickstand with his booted heel, he swung his leg over the seat and stood.

  Bianca was practically drooling all over herself. “Girl, he is so damn fine. I don’t know about you, but there’s no way I could ever friend-zone a man who looks like that.”

  Meadow shot her a glare that said, You’re not helping!

  Bianca laughed. “Have fun with Bachata Bae!” She wiggled her fingers goodbye, backed out of the driveway and drove off.

  Meadow stood there nervously as Logan came toward her with that lazy, loose-limbed swagger of his. Even the way he walked was straight up sexy.

  Beneath the leather jacket he wore a gray V-neck sweater. The fabric stretched tight across his super defined abs, and his jeans hugged his strong, thick thighs. As Meadow’s gaze swept back up all six feet four inches of him, her body’s sudden spike in temperature left her feeling flushed.

  When he came to a stop in front of her, she tilted her head back to look up at him.

  “Hey,” she said softly.

  “Hey.” He ran a hand over his short black hair. “I, uh, just wanted to see you again before you left town.”

  She nodded slowly, staring into his thick-lashed eyes. She sensed that same edginess about him tonight. A restless tension. Something was definitely up.

  “How was dinner?” he asked.

  “Really good. We had a wonderful time. Nadia and Scarlett were super nice and down to earth.”

  “Yeah, they’re awesome,” Logan agreed with a warm smile. “Reid and Viggo got lucky.”

  Meadow smiled. “I’m sure Nadia and Scarlett feel the same way about them.”

  “Probably.” Logan stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “Don’t forget I’m taking you to dinner when you get back to town. So you’d better come back.” His tone was light, but there was a haunted urgency in his eyes. Was he afraid she wouldn’t return?

  Like his mother?

  The thought made her throat ache for him.

  “I’m definitely coming back,” she assured him with a crooked smile. “I’m too broke to keep temping.”

  He smiled, but just barely.

  She searched his shadowed eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I don’t know. You seem—”

  “I’m fine.” His voice was gruff. “Wanna go for a ride?”

  She frowned. “A ride?”

  “Yeah. On my bike.”

  She cast a dubious look at his Harley. It looked like a crouching beast made of black and chrome. “Um…I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  She bit her lip. “I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before.”

  “Never?”

  She shook her head. “They seem pretty dangerous.”

  “They can be, but I’m a safe driver,” he assured her. “And I’ll go slow like I did last night.”

  So she hadn’t imagined it. He had been driving slower for her sake. Her heart gave an odd little squeeze.

  He glanced up at the cloudless sky. “It’s such a beautiful night. It’s like the weather warmed up just for you.”


  She smiled at that. The weather had indeed done a dramatic one-eighty, warm temperatures replacing yesterday’s frigid cold. She’d barely needed her jacket all day. But now it was starting to cool down again.

  “So what do you say?” Logan cajoled.

  She worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she eyed the Harley. “I don’t know…”

  Logan grinned. “C’mon, Jupiter. Don’t be such a chickenshit.”

  She bristled. “I’m not a chickenshit.”

  “Prove it.” His eyes gleamed, daring her. “Ride with me.”

  She took a deep breath, praying for courage. You only live once.

  “All right,” she finally relented. “I’ll do it.”

  Logan gave her one of those infectious grins that made it impossible not to grin back.

  “C’mon.” Before she could change her mind, he grabbed her hand and led her down the driveway to the gleaming Harley.

  “What should I do with my purse?” she fretted.

  “Here.” He took it and secured it in a saddlebag behind the seat.

  “What about my glasses? Won’t they—”

  “No, they won’t fall off.”

  There was an extra helmet fastened onto the back of the bike. Logan handed it to her and put on his own helmet, then swung his leg over the seat like he’d been mounting Harleys all his life.

  When he shot her an expectant glance, she realized that she’d been standing there gawking at him. She couldn’t help it. He looked scorching-hot and totally badass sitting astride the motorcycle.

  Clearing her throat, she pulled on the helmet and fumbled to fasten the chin strap. “It’s kind of loose,” she complained. “I hope it won’t—”

  “For fuck’s sake, Jupiter. Quit stalling and get on the damn bike.”

  She huffed and awkwardly climbed on behind him.

  “Finally,” he growled in exasperation. “Damn, woman. Why is it such a struggle to get you to do anything?”

  “Because I approach everything with caution,” she said with a haughty sniff. “Speaking of which, should you even be riding motorcycles during the hockey season? What if you have an accident and get hurt?”

  “I could get hurt in a car accident or a plane crash. Does that mean I should stop driving cars or flying on planes?”

  “Well, no. But—”

  He revved the motor, startling a squeak out of her as the engine roared awake like a pissed-off lion.

  “Put your arms around me,” he instructed.

  When she balked, he grabbed her arms and wrapped them around his waist, sending a shiver through her. “Hold on tight and don’t let go.”

  Don’t have to tell me twice! she thought, locking her arms around him as he flipped up the kickstand with his booted heel and eased the bike forward.

  Excitement and nerves bubbled in her stomach as he drove out of the neighborhood and pulled onto the main road. Her breasts were flattened against his broad back, her hands pressed flat against his stomach. She could feel his rock-hard abs flexing as he maneuvered the big motorcycle. He had to be totally ripped under his sweater.

  As he picked up speed, she squeezed her eyes shut like she did on roller coasters. Her heart was pounding like crazy. From fear, adrenaline or Logan’s intoxicating body heat, she couldn’t be sure.

  He called back to her, “Open your eyes, Jupiter!”

  “How do you know they’re closed?” she called back.

  “’Cause I know you!”

  That made her grin. She cracked her eyes open, then gasped at the scenery rushing past her, a visual barrage of bright lights and passing buildings and bouncing high beams on the other side of the road.

  “Hang on tight!” Logan told her.

  As he charged the air with a roar of the engine, she let out an exhilarated squeal.

  His deep laugh rumbled through her.

  She clung tighter to him, her thighs squeezing his firm, round butt. Her pulse roared in her head as the wind whipped her hair at the base of her helmet. She found herself gasping and laughing as the motorcycle tore up the winding curves of a two-lane highway, that famous Harley engine ripping through the night.

  The air was cold and her eyes were watering behind her glasses. But that didn’t stop her from pushing up the visor on her helmet and gulping down sweet mouthfuls of wind. She felt more alive than she’d ever felt in her life.

  She wasn’t familiar with Denver, so she had no clue where they were going. But it didn’t matter. She was just along for the ride, not counting the miles that slipped away.

  Logan got off the highway and started taking back roads, thundering past open fields with the Rocky Mountains looming to the west. Soon he turned onto a gravelly dirt road and eased off the gas as they came to a secluded lake that was half concealed by a grove of towering cottonwood trees.

  He slowed to a stop, killed the motor and took off his helmet. “Here we are.”

  Grinning and breathless, Meadow climbed off the bike on wobbly legs and removed her helmet.

  Logan grinned, watching her comb her fingers through her wind-tossed hair. “See? Wasn’t that fun?”

  “I suppose.” She shrugged, trying to play it cool when inside she was still riding an adrenaline high like no other. “You didn’t kill me, so you definitely get points for that.”

  Logan laughed at her. “You know you loved every moment.”

  She giggled and handed over her helmet, then pushed her glasses up her nose and looked around. “This your spot?”

  “Yeah. I come here sometimes to clear my head and think.” He levered the kickstand down and leaned the bike’s weight onto it. Then he got off, pulled a rolled blanket from the back and held out his hand to her. “C’mon.”

  She let him take her hand and lead her down to the stand of massive old cottonwoods bordering the lake. At the water’s edge he spread the blanket on the grass. They sat down side by side, close but not close enough for their legs to touch.

  “It’s so beautiful out here,” Meadow whispered, feeling enchanted. “So peaceful and quiet.”

  “Isn’t it?” Logan smiled in the moonlight. “No one ever comes here. It’s like my own personal hideaway.”

  “Awesome.” Meadow gave him a sidelong smile. “It’s crazy how I never knew that you were part Latino and fluent in Spanish. I never heard you speak it at the group home.”

  “I didn’t. Not really. My mother didn’t speak Spanish nearly as often as Santino does. That’s what we mostly spoke in his household. Even his American wife was fluent. Every summer when we visited his family in the Dominican Republic, days could go by without any of us speaking a lick of English.”

  Meadow grinned. “Really?”

  “Really.” One corner of Logan’s mouth quirked up. “I remember when Santino and I started meeting with sports agents. Whenever he got a bad feeling about one of them, he’d break into Spanish so the guy wouldn’t know what he was saying. It was all I could do to keep a straight face.”

  Meadow laughed. “That definitely sounds like Mr. Tavárez. He was such a character.”

  “Still is.” Logan grinned.

  She smiled at him. “What’s your middle name?”

  “I have two.”

  “Yeah? What are they?”

  He hesitated. “Francisco Matías.”

  “Francisco Matías,” she repeated softly. “That’s beautiful.”

  He looked down at the lake. “I was named after my great-grandfather.”

  She stared at him. “Does he…did he…?”

  “Know about me?” Logan’s jaw tightened. “I don’t think so. I never met him or any of my mom’s relatives.”

  Meadow felt a hot burst of anger spark inside her. How could his mother have kept her own child a secret from her family? How could she have abandoned him, leaving him to fend for himself at such a young age? What kind of mother would do such a thing?

  Restlessly Logan got up and leaned back against the heavy bark of a cottonwood, crossing his booted fe
et at the ankle.

  Meadow bit her lip as she gazed up at him. Not for the first time, she sensed that something was bothering him. Something must have happened to him today. But what?

  After a few moments, she rose from the blanket and stood in front of him, arms loosely folded over her chest.

  He put his head back against the tree, studying her from beneath his thick lashes. His stubble-darkened face looked even more shadowed in the moonlight. Wickeder. Dangerous.

  He reached out and found an errant strand of her hair to wind around a long finger.

  Tightness pulled at her stomach and she shivered.

  “You cold?” he murmured.

  She shook her head. She was aware of him in a way she’d never been aware of another man.

  He released her hair but not her gaze.

  She couldn’t look away from him. She was drawn to his raw animal magnetism, the dark energy that radiated from him like a force field. Something about him had always made her want to be in his sphere, even at her own peril.

  She moved to the spot beside him and pressed her back against the tree trunk.

  After a moment, he shifted so their shoulders were touching. Her stomach quivered, but she didn’t move away.

  “I bet you’re happy about the new job,” he said.

  “I am.”

  He shot her a teasing glance. “You don’t sound all that happy.”

  She gave him a sad little smile. “I have a fragile relationship with happiness. Every time it’s within my grasp, it slips away before I can get a firm grip.”

  Logan nodded slowly. “I know the feeling.”

  “I know you do,” she whispered, staring down at the lake. The water reflected the bright full moon.

  “How did you end up at a group home?” Logan asked quietly. “I always thought they were mostly for kids who couldn’t be placed in foster homes because of serious behavioral issues.” He paused. “Kids like me.”

  Meadow felt her throat tighten and her shoulders tense up. “I was considered…troubled.”

  Logan stared at her. “Why?”

  She hesitated. “Because of what happened at my previous foster home.”

  “What happened?”

  She swallowed tightly, her insides twisting as the buried memories came rushing to the surface. “I was living with a woman named Ms. Bellamy. She was horrible, one of the cruelest people I’d ever met. She didn’t become a foster mother out of the kindness of her heart. She only did it for the checks. She didn’t have a nurturing bone in her body. In fact, she seemed to get some kind of sick pleasure from torturing and humiliating us. Sometimes she’d fix dinner for herself and let us starve. Other times she and her boyfriend would get fast food and sit there chowing down in front of us. On one of those occasions, one of the older girls got fed up and marched into the kitchen to cook something for us to eat. Ms. Bellamy flew into a rage. She snatched a bag of rice out of the girl’s hands, ripped it open and poured rice all over the floor. Then she made all of us strip down to our underwear and kneel on the uncooked rice for hours.”