How To Evict a Hot Jock in Three Weeks - Anyta Sunday Page 0,23
high. “If you want to have fun again, my tent is at your disposal.”
Logan noogied her head like they used to as teenagers. She shrieked and attacked his armpits with tickle-fingers.
“Gah,” she choked out between laughs. “I was avoiding you. But not because of the tent.”
Logan blinked. “What do you mean?”
Luci’s eyes widened. “Nothing?”
“Something.”
“I know nothing.”
“Good thing you’re not interested in acting, because Luci”—he bent close to her—“I don’t believe you.”
Logan held up his tickle-fingers. She winced.
Luci talked. “Alexander might have . . . figured out you’re method acting.”
“Figured out?”
“I might have told him.”
She what? Alexander knew? “When were you planning to tell me this?”
“I was hoping not to. Hence the avoiding?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Luci.”
“I’m sorry. It happened by accident.”
“When did it happen?”
“Um, just before your camping trip.”
Logan palmed his forehead. “That’s why it was okay I had performance anxiety.”
“Um, is there something you want to talk to me about?”
Logan scowled at her. “Fishing, I meant about fishing. Oh, my God, he doesn’t have a conservative kink. He’s playing along! That surprising minx.”
“I don’t like that twinkle in your eye. What does it mean?”
“Two can play at this game.”
“Are you losing sight of your ultimate goal? To land this role?”
Logan leaped to his feet, feeling his pockets for his keys and wallet. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Wait,” Luci said. “Maybe you should know . . .”
“Know what?”
She gulped. “Alexander has a bet with his brother,” she said quietly. “That he wouldn’t evict you for three weeks.”
That explains his limitless patience and so much more. “We’re at competing odds, huh?”
“It seems that way.”
Hmm.
“What are you thinking?” Luci queried.
If Alexander was freaking out about their one-off, how much more would he panic if Logan wanted more?
“Logan?”
Logan’s stomach jumped with nerves and eagerness. “Alexander doesn’t know I know he knows?”
“No, God.”
Yes, God. Logan and Alexander were about to play a game of chicken.
Chapter Thirteen
ALEXANDER
* * *
Alexander parked outside the gallery. Mary—owner of Luscious and heart of Inglewood—crossed the road, staring at his adorned SUV.
“Are you okay, Alexander?” Concern creased her mouth.
“Fine, Mary.”
She patted his arm. “Absolutely sure?”
He silently cursed the invention of Truck Nutz. “I’m improving my character.”
Mary startled, speechless.
His phone rang, and he wished her a good day. “Watch for growth, Mary.”
He left her suspiciously eyeing the back of his SUV, murmuring, “They get bigger?”
He keyed his way into the gallery, phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. A wincing apology echoed down the line. Another artist would be on vacation during his showcase.
Last-minute cancellations happened last year, too. Everyone had reasons why they couldn’t attend, and Alexander couldn’t help but wonder if he was one of the reasons.
True, he got his artists good deals on their art.
Also true, he was forthcoming with his opinions and . . . constructive criticism.
His stomach gurgled, demanding to be sated, but he had no appetite.
The bell dinged and footsteps schlepped toward his office.
He recognized that lazy gait. Wait, why was it moving closer? Logan usually left his daily latte delivery on the stool in the gallery.
Alexander jumped off his chair and rounded into the main gallery—smack into Logan.
Strong arms wrapped around him, and a surprised utterance flittered over Alexander’s hair. Logan steadied Alexander, drawing back enough to look down at his face. They were chest to chest, Logan’s thigh snugly locked into place at his crotch.
Alexander drew in a sharp breath. They hadn’t been this close since . . . since . . . He shook off the memory. It’d been hard enough to think of anything else the last four days, and he was ready to forget.
Forget how fantastic Logan felt wrapped around him.
“What are you doing here?” Alexander squeaked.
“It’s closin’ time, see.” Back was the drawl, skittering over his skin from his neck to his—
He pulled back from Logan, who wore a nice pair of navy shorts with a tight brown T-shirt that made his dark eyes blaze. “I was thinking of working late.”
“You been working late a lot since—”
“—since I have my summer showcase next week,” Alexander filled in, pivoting away from that discussion.
“Since then, huh?” Logan said, lips twitching.
Alexander nodded sharply.
“If ya say so.”
“I do. There’s a lot to organize.”
“Sure. I believe you.”
“Good.”
“It’s just that—”
Alexander delivered Logan a stern drop it look.
Logan raised his hands. “Okay, okay. We got all night.”
What did that mean?
Alexander flicked invisible lint off his jeans, which only drew Logan’s attention in that direction. “It’s important to me that I pull this off right. Last year . . .”
Logan glanced up. “Last year?”
Alexander shifted. “It