* * *

Logan’s eyes were fixed on Tate as his long legs ate up the space behind the bar. When he stopped in front of him and placed his hands on the counter, Logan lifted his face and waited.

“Want something?” Tate asked without any kind of greeting.

“I don’t remember service being so sloppy in here.”

“Sloppy?”

“No greeting, no smile, no how’s-your-day-going.”

Tate crossed his arms and aimed a fake smile his way. “Hi, how’s your day going?”

Logan pushed his tongue into his cheek and glanced over Tate’s buttoned black shirt and vest. Yes, he thought, Tate looked fucking spectacular on his knees in front of me. I was right—that pompous vest looked even better from above.

“Fantastic as of thirty minutes ago when—”

“Don’t.”

“No? Why not?” Logan quipped. “I thought you might need a reminder.”

“I don’t. I remember it all perfectly, but you left out a few details.”

Sitting back on the stool, Logan frowned. “Did I?”

“Yes, you did.”

Logan tracked Tate’s hand as he pulled the white towel from the back of his pants and started to wipe down the bar top. Ah, that nervous gesture. I love his tells. “What did I leave out?”

Tate bent in closer than even Logan would have expected. “You get just as jealous as I do. You just hide it better.”

Logan’s jaw ticked as he thought about Amelia touching Tate, not knowing what she had been saying. He had to admit, he was one hundred percent jealous. That was something he’d never been in his life—until Tate. Logan didn’t want her anywhere near him, not while he was his.

“So?”

“Oh, so it’s okay if it’s you but not me? Not so funny now, is it?”

“It was never funny. I’ve worked hard to get what I want. She can take a fucking hike if she thinks she’s going to get a piece of it.”

Tate placed a steadying palm on the bar, as his mouth parted slightly. He sucked in a quick breath and then he let it out, confessing, “I don’t know why that’s so hot, but it is.”

“Don’t you see, Tate? She’s just like me. The ones who resist us are the ones we want the most.”

“So, this is just a game to you?”

Logan thought about that for a second, and then he reached out to the hand on the bar. “Maybe at first, but not now. It stopped being a game the night you showed up at my front door.”

Logan removed his hand and sat back, while Tate reached up to rub his cheek.

“So, let’s talk. Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Logan said, deciding to move to a topic that was more comfortable.

Tate lifted a shoulder but played along. “I hate mushrooms.”

Not expecting that, Logan started laughing. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind for pizza night.”

“And anchovies,” Tate added.

“Who likes anchovies?”

“I don’t know, but I hate those salty, fishy things.”

“Noted. Anything else?” Logan asked.

Tate took the empty glass in front of him and put them with the other dirty ones. When he turned back, he asked, “What night is pizza night?”

Logan thought about that and decided he really liked the idea of a regular date night with Tate. “I’m thinking Sundays.”

“Sundays, huh? I’m free on Sunday nights.”

“Yeah?”

Logan noted the way Tate’s eyes darkened, and he felt all kinds of excited at the thought of spending the night with this man again.

“Yeah.”

“Then, you should definitely come.” Unable to look away, Logan was enjoying this relaxed side of Tate.

“Well, that could certainly be part of the evening, I’m sure.”

Logan hadn’t even caught himself on that, but as Tate threw the pun back at him, he felt his anticipation heighten at the flirtatious grin crossing the lips he was now imagining against his own.

“Careful, Tate.”

“Why’s that?”

“You think you’re safe because I’ve already tasted you. You think I’m just sitting here, but you’re wrong, I’m constantly imagining it. All it did was make me want you more. I’m about two seconds away from hauling you across the bar. So, back the fuck up unless you’re ready for that.”

* * *

Tate backed away, eyeing Logan’s mouth. “Well, everyone I work with will know by the end of this shift anyway.”

“Does that bother you?”

Tate thought that over and realized that it didn’t bother him. It was actually a relief that he wouldn’t have to be the one to tell people. They would just know, and if they were brave enough to ask him about it, then he’d deal with it then. Most people though never actually said what they were thinking to your face. It was usually gossip behind your back, and he didn’t give a shit about that.

“No. It doesn’t.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I don’t care what they think. I hardly know them.”

 “That’s true,” Logan agreed. “What about people you do know?”

Tate crossed his arms. “Like?”

“Like your family.”

Tate didn’t understand. Logan had balked at the very mention of family just the night before. Why is he bringing it up now? “Family is different.”

“Is it?”

Tate got the impression that Logan was annoyed with that answer.

“Yes, it is. Anyway, you’re the one who made it very clear that families aren’t an issue right now.”

Logan’s mouth twisted into a smile that Tate suspected was fake. “You’re right.”

“Am I?” He was slightly confused by the turn in the conversation.

“Yep. Can I have another drink?”

“Why? Do you need one?” Tate asked, reaching under the bar for a glass.

“Maybe.”

The usually calm and put-together man now looked…bothered.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to tell my family?”

Logan’s eyes rose to his own, and Tate felt his heart thudding in his chest.

“Not really my decision, is it?”

Tate put his hands back on the bar and pushed his face in close to Logan’s, not giving a fuck who was looking. “No, it isn’t, but I think you want me to tell them.”

When Logan didn’t say a word, Tate knew he was right on the money.

“I know why that thought scares me, but what scares you about it? The fact that you’d have to admit to the commitment or the thought of someone giving a shit about you?”

Logan frowned, and just like that, the reality of where this was all going was laid out in front of them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do,” Tate whispered and straightened. “Still want that drink?”

“Yeah, let’s make it tequila.”

Laughing at Logan’s mumbled request, Tate questioned, “Liquid courage?”

“Enjoying yourself at my expense?”

“Immensely.” Tate turned his back, poured the drink, and then moved to slide it over to Logan. That was when he heard a question he’d never expected to hear.

“Why are you attracted to me?”

This was something that Tate had asked himself over and over. At first, it had seemed essential for him to know the reasons for his reactions to a man. But the more time Tate spent with Logan, the more he realized it wasn’t the feelings he had for a man that he needed to work out, but the feelings he had for Logan in particular—and there were many.

“Your confidence.”

Logan scoffed. “Really? Because I was under the impression you hated that about me.”

“I did,” Tate responded automatically.

“Ah…I don’t understand then.”

“I hated it—at first.”

“But now?” Logan pushed.

“Now, I think it’s…exciting.”

Lifting the shot to his mouth, Logan downed the liquid and didn’t even flinch as he placed the empty glass on the bar. “Well, that was a different answer than what I’d expected. Thank you.”

“I’m not finished. There’s more,” Tate taunted with a chuckle, wondering what exactly Logan had expected. “Want another drink to hear the rest?”

“Oh, nice. Laugh away. The only reason I’m behaving is because you’re at work. Otherwise, you’d be just as uncomfortable right now.”