The Trouble With Quarterbacks - R.S. Grey Page 0,16

I don’t need Logan Matthews coming in here and making me feel less than.

But maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to ignore his call. I sort of thought he’d try again at least—up until now, he’s seemed to be a pretty persistent bloke—but after that ignored call, he falls off the face of the earth completely.

No calls to Kat. No calls to my mobile either. Nothing.

A week passes in which I don’t hear from him at all.

I do suffer through talk of him at school, though. Briggs goes on and on about a fun outing they had over the weekend. We got pizza and ice cream and he took me to this arcade and he won me this huge stuffed panda and pandas are my favorite animal now and Logan is my favorite uncle but he’s also my only uncle and—at this point I was massaging my temples, praying my headache would dissipate on its own.

I have no choice. I can’t call him, not after everything that’s transpired. It’s too far gone, at least that’s how I feel until he shows up Wednesday afternoon to pick up Briggs from school. I’m a real mess, hair tucked up in a messy bun, red dress half concealed behind a paint-stained smock. I’m chatting with a nanny about early dismissal on Friday when Logan walks up behind her and pauses, waiting his turn at the door.

I go absolutely mute, like I haven’t got a clue what to make of this turn of events. I knew he was going to show up here again. Briggs told me his uncle was going to be picking him up more in the coming weeks, and here he is, just as promised.

He’s wearing a white Yankees t-shirt, a black ball cap, and jeans. His dark hair is just long enough in the back that it curls out underneath the bottom. He’s so classically American and handsome it’s like I’m staring at a propaganda poster. A mom passes him in the hall and does a double take. Oh right, yes, like you’ve never seen a man that hot before. KEEP IT MOVING, LEEANNE!

“So then, I’ll be here at 12:30 on Friday. We’ll see you tomorrow,” the nanny assures me before taking Tinsley in hand and turning down the hall. Tinsley calls goodbye to me over her shoulder, and I spend a long time waving to her so I don’t have to notice Logan step toward the door.

“Hey,” he says, sounding a bit shy.

How a man like him has even one shy bone in his body is beyond me.

“Oh hello, you.” I try to sound really cheery, as if nothing’s happened between the last time I saw him and now. I slowly peruse him, trying not to be intimidated by our size difference.

“Do you have a second?”

I glance down the hall. “Truthfully, I’ve only got until the next caregiver arrives for pick-up.”

He nods. “Right. Yeah. I just wanted to apologize.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for!” I say hurriedly, trying to emphasize how sincere I’m being. He doesn’t need to feel bad that I’m so far below his league he thought of me as a charity case. “Speaking of, I actually have that envelope for you.”

I dash off to get it while Briggs gathers his lunch sack, more than a little excited to see his uncle here again so soon. I’m back at the door quickly, shoving the envelope toward Logan and hoping he’s not staring right at my blazing cheeks.

“Ah, well, there you go. That’s all of it.”

He takes it without me having to insist. Thank god.

“Candace, you have to know I’m a complete idiot. I thought it was a nice gesture or something. Hell, I don’t know what I was thinking, but Kat told me yesterday that you thought I felt sorry for you, when in fact, I was just some guy with a crush who wasn’t sure how to show it.”

A CRUSH?!

I blink my eyes up at his. He looks less than impressed with himself.

“Whatever. Ignore me. I’m screwing this up.” He adjusts his ball cap. “I swear, if you saw me on the field in uniform, you wouldn’t even recognize this version of me. I’m usually pretty cool.”

I laugh, immediately put at ease by how sweet he can be. He should be a total egomaniac stomping around the city like King Kong, but here he is, picking his nephew up from preschool, shoving that stupid envelope into the back pocket of his jeans like it’s embarrassing him,

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