How To Evict a Hot Jock in Three Weeks - Anyta Sunday Page 0,10
about we catch up more tonight—”
His phone rang. A mortifyingly loud burst of tune against his ear.
Alexander’s posture stiffened.
Logan dropped the ringing phone and slammed his eyes shut. It kept ringing and ringing.
When it ceased and Logan had soaked in the full depth of his embarrassment, he scrimmaged for his broken confidence and channeled MAGA Logan. “That quiche is gonna get cold.” He backed toward the exit, tipping his cap. “You have a good birthday now, you hear?”
“Wait.”
Logan paused.
With a schooled expression, Alexander flipped open the to-go box. “There’s enough for two.”
Chapter Eight
ALEXANDER
* * *
Alexander watched Logan pick at his half of the quiche. He was rambling in that heavy accent of his, but Alexander wasn’t paying attention.
He’d figured it out.
At least, he’d figured a few things out: Logan had a painful relationship with his mom, the relationship between he and Jane wasn’t civil, and he was good at acting.
Alexander had been as shocked as Logan when Logan’s phone rang.
Who was this man? Alexander homed in on those moving lips and that heavy accent.
Too heavy, perhaps?
“Are we going to talk about it?” Alexander said. Behind that cool smile, he caught Logan’s flinch.
“The truth is I’ve been a bit of a disappointment.”
The genuine rawness in Logan’s words rippled through Alexander. “Why did you pretend?”
Logan’s smile wavered. “I’m good at it.”
Alexander stole a piece of Logan’s slice with his fork. Just because Logan had another side did not mean this was a friendship Alexander should indulge in.
Logan batted away Alexander’s fork and set his plate before Alexander, his gaze deep brown and deeply affected despite his charmed smile.
Alexander sighed. “Would you like to cook with me?”
Alexander watched Logan stare at the sunken, burned cake base.
Logan scrubbed his jaw, frowning. His nose was straight in profile, and his hair had a bluish shine under the light.
Logan peered at him from the corner of his eye, and Alexander hurriedly stepped aside. “Tartsy is open until seven.”
“I could scrape off the burned bits.”
Alexander ducked out of his apron. “I’ll run to Tartsy now.”
Logan snagged the apron balled in Alexander’s grip and tugged him back. “Your guests will be here any minute.”
“All the more reason to run.”
Logan chuckled, but it sounded tinny. “My cake might not look tasty, but give it a shot. Maybe it’s better than you think.”
The blessed phone buzzed.
Alexander scurried to check it. “They’ll be here in five.”
He opened the door to a downpour. He needed to pull himself together before his family arrived.
“Alexander?”
Logan was right beside him, a block of warmth and mystery boring into Alexander’s side.
Logan held up the watch that Alexander had taken off to cook.
“You keep touching your wrist like you’re missing it.”
Alexander blinked. Logan had been paying that much attention to him? “Right.”
Alexander’s heart pounded as Logan carefully strapped it on him. He threaded the buckle and finally Alexander pulled back. “Are you really from Dollywood, Tennessee?”
Logan’s cheek twitched. He took his time answering. “Uh huh. Beautiful place.” He took off his apron. “I guess I’ll move out of your way.”
“No.”
Logan’s gaze connected with his, surprised.
“I mean,” Alexander said, “you helped me cook.”
“I watched you cook and I baked something questionable.”
“Stay, please?”
Logan rubbed his chin. “Sure. Gotta make a call to Luci first. I’ll take it outside.”
Logan grabbed an umbrella and disappeared out the front door.
A minute later, Nico and his mom arrived.
Rain drizzled down Nico’s face. He was soaked, jacket gripped in his hands. Mom, dry—had Nico held his jacket over her head? Such a Nico thing to do—tucked a graying hair behind her ear. “Happy Birthday, love.”
They rushed in with cheerful, friendly hugs.
“I like what you did to your Mercedes, bro.”
“No nuts jokes please.”
Nico snickered.
“Where’s Dad?” Alexander asked.
“He’s sick.” Mom’s expression saddened. “Nasty cold. It’s better if he stays home, but he sends his love.” She hugged him again. “I’ll pick up honey for his lemon teas on our way home.”
Alexander found honey in the cupboard, popped it into a Ziploc bag so it wouldn’t run out, and slipped it into his Mom’s purse. Mom smiled warmly at him and pinched his cheek. “You are a good son, Alexander.”
Nico shivered behind her, and Alexander told him to find a dry shirt in his room.
“You know all this won’t fit your Ken-sized clothes.”
Alexander rolled his eyes. “Make do.”
“Maybe I can borrow something from Logan?”
Before Alexander could object, Nico was charging toward Logan’s room.
“He’s popped out for a minute,” Alexander called to him.
Nico pulled out his phone and called Logan. “Can I borrow a shirt? Sweet. Cool. Yep,