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“Come on, you didn’t see her with her hitched up skirt? She sat us back here to find out if we were together. And then there was Pam from the store—“
“She was helpful.”
“She was thirsty.”
Logan stopped in the middle of sipping his water. “What?” He laughed.
“I’m sorry, but it’s the only way to say it. She was looking for, you know.” She glanced around and then whispered under her breath, “She was looking for a ride on your night train.”
"God, I wish I could record you saying that.”
“Be serious.” Andy picked up her glass and took a swig.
“Fine, I’ll be serious. I didn’t actually notice any of that, but even if these women were—what was it you said? Thirsty? Why should that matter to you?" he asked.
She'd expected him to tease her mercilessly, to make her want to crawl into a hole made of her own humiliation and rot there until she couldn't remember what had put her there to begin with. Instead, his gaze was tender and almost...
Well, if she didn't know any better, she might have called it intrigued.
"It's just rude. I mean, what if I was your, you know, lady friend? And she was hitting on you like that in front of me? It's like she knows you could do better."
One day, she would think before she spoke. That day was apparently not today.
To her surprise, though, Logan didn't respond with his usual mockery. Instead, he focused on his menu and said, "Believe me, she would not be a trade up from present company."
Heat stole over her and her chant of "he's just not that into you" faded away.
"Thanks," she said.
Shortly after placing their order, their food came out and they tucked in. Andy was surprised by the ease of conversation. In a lot of ways, it was like they were back in college again in the months before the disastrous Halloween party—arguing over statistics and which team was best. If she let herself, it would have been easy to forget that Logan was not only out of her league, but beyond off limits. Easier still to pay credence to the way his gaze roved over her whenever he thought she wasn’t looking.
Before eating her last piece of sushi, she blew a strand of hair from her face and said, “I’m telling you, one day, the Cubs are going to win the World Series. What will you do then?”
“If that ever happens, I’m sure I’ll be long dead.” He laughed. “You’re not even from Chicago. What’s with the love?”
“Everyone likes an underdog.” She grinned. “That’s why people pay attention to anything.”
“I disagree.”
“Oh, yeah? Why do people watch reality shows? Underdogs. Why do people watch romantic comedies? To see the disenfranchised girl get the guy. Why do people watch sports?”
“I think I’m a pretty big part of why they watch sports.” He flashed her a heart-melting grin.
“Like I said, underdogs,” she shot back and he threw a napkin at her, pegged her on the bicep.
“See? If you were that great, you could have hit me square in the face.”
“I didn’t want to mess up your perfect make-up.” Logan stood from his cushion, holding his hand out to her as he towered over.
She stared at his outstretched palm, but didn’t take it. “I don’t want to put the shoes back on. Can’t we stay for a little while longer so I can work up my fortitude?”
He let out a gruff laugh, then pulled her Reeboks from one of the shopping bags on the floor and handed them to her.
She tied her laces in an instant, and when she was finally set, Logan dropped money onto the table and held out his hand again. Steeling herself, she closed her fingers over his and allowed him to hoist her onto her feet. Was it her imagination, or did he hold her hand for the slightest bit too long again?
She shook her head. What happened to her mantra?
They headed onto the street. The sky was orange now with the setting sun, and all of downtown was abandoned in favor of the beach. For a second, she almost suggested that they make for the shore and walk along the current, but she bit back the request. That would be too much. Too romantic.
