Try (Temptation Series) (33 page)

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Yes, it was. So, I will ask you again,” Cole began. “What are you doing with this
straight
guy? You know how things like this end, and I don’t know why, but you always end up giving a shit about the wrong people.”

“That’s not true, and it doesn’t matter. I told you, this isn’t that serious.”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Logan recognized them for the lies they were. But he wasn’t about to confide in Cole, not when he was royally pissing him off.

* * *

Tate wondered how he hadn’t hurled his phone across Logan’s living room as he glared into the brightly lit surface shining back at him. He was livid. With every word that passed between these two, Tate’s temper rose, and the trust he’d been so reluctant to give crumbled.

Not sure how much more he could listen to, Tate was about to end the call when Cole’s voice came through the phone, breaking the silence.

“After Chris, you have not had one serious relationship. You fuck and run. And the first person you decide to focus on is straight?”

Tate sucked in a breath. He didn’t want to hear Logan’s response, but he also found it impossible to ignore.

“You know, when you got married a week after knowing Hot Cheetah Pants, I wasn’t this much of an asshole.”

“No, but you were quick to point out how I tied myself to one person. Just make sure the person you decide to put all your effort into is the right person.”

“You’re really starting to piss me off.”

For once, Tate had to agree with Logan. Cole was really pissing him off, too.

“Am I? Truth hurts, huh?”

 “Whatever. What’s your point? If you even have one.”

“My point is, Logan, don’t delude yourself into thinking he’s going to magically switch teams.”

“Well, thank you, Cole, for being so damn supportive. Good thing I’m not delusional.”

Still furious, Tate pushed aside his own anger and disappointment for a moment. He thought he’d caught something in Logan’s tone, but before he could pinpoint it, it was gone.

* * *

Logan wanted to hit something, and he was afraid if Cole didn’t leave, it would be him. So, he advised, “You know where the door is. Why don’t you go and fucking use it?”

Cole stood and walked over to where Logan was now standing behind his desk. Logan hated that he had to look up, even slightly. When he did, he saw a flash of sympathy cross Cole’s face, and he almost gave in to the urge for violence, something he hadn’t done in years.

“I said, get out,” he repeated.

Cole shook his head. “Don’t become someone’s mistake.”

“Why? It’s what I’m good at. I was your father’s
biggest
mistake.”

Logan knew it was low, and he knew the blow was uncalled for, but Cole was hitting too close to all of his fears and insecurities. When Logan was cornered, he always fought dirty.

“That was low, even for you.”

“Are you really surprised? Now, get out.”

Cole turned on his heel and left the office, leaving Logan just the way he wanted to be—alone. As he moved over to the window, he wondered when exactly he had decided that being
alone
was all he deserved.

* * *

Tate hit End on the call and threw his phone on the couch, cursing Logan and admonishing himself.
How could I have been so damn stupid?
This whole thing had disaster written all over it from the beginning
.

But after last night, he’d thought—

What?
That Logan was serious about all of this? That he cared? Well, there you go
.
There’s your fucking wake-up call. Loud enough for you?

Tate tried to block out everything he’d heard, and he jumped slightly when the phone beside him started to ring. Looking down at the screen, he saw it was Logan. He picked it up and hit Answer, but he remained silent.

“Tate? You there?”

Tate closed his eyes and turned to lie down on the couch.

“Hello? If you don’t answer me, I’m going to call the cops and tell them to go check my condo just in case you were attacked or—”

“Shut up, Logan,” Tate finally cut him off. He wasn’t going to lay there and act like everything was fine just because Logan was putting on one hell of a show.

“What’s wrong with you?” Logan had the audacity to ask.

Tate couldn’t help the snide tone that crept into his voice. “Oh, nothing
serious
.”

There was a lengthy pause and then, “Well, obviously, something’s wrong.”

“And obviously, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Um, what the fuck, Tate?”

Infuriated at himself and Logan, Tate sneered through the phone, “Exactly. What the fuck? Maybe we should go and get Cole for this? Make it a conference call. He seems to know all about our relationship. But hang on, we don’t have one of those, do we? It’s just some
fun
?”

From the silence that stretched through the phone, Tate knew that Logan had no clue that he’d heard his recent conversation with Cole. He was about to inform him when Logan’s bad temper seemed to finally catch up and he lashed out at him.

“Don’t fuck around with me, Tate. I’m not in the mood.”

That was the exact moment that Tate felt his own rage boil
.
“Well good, Logan, because I’m not in the mood for you either. You might want to check your recent calls,
asshole
. Have a nice fucking day.”

With that, Tate ended the call and threw his phone onto the floor.
Don’t fuck around with you? Fine by me, Mr. Mitchell, fine by me.

Chapter Twenty-Two

If Logan had to make a list of things he hated, it would include being hung up on and being ignored. Tate had done both of those in the last three hours. He’d tried calling him back several times after their not-so-pleasant conversation, and the stubborn ass had let all of his calls go to voice mail where, of course, he’d left
seven
different messages.

Christ, how was I supposed to know I hit Call instead of Ignore earlier?
Plus, Tate had it all wrong. Logan hadn’t meant things the way they’d sounded. Tate just needed to hear him out.

Opening the door to the bar, Logan stepped inside and noticed it was quiet for a Wednesday night.
Good
, he thought,
it will make it easier for us to talk.

Making his way over to his usual spot, the first person he saw was Amelia.

She gave him a small wave as she walked over and then stopped in front of him. “Evening, Logan.”

Logan was not in the mood for small talk. “Hey. Is he here?”

Amelia sucked her top lip into her mouth and grabbed a glass. “Gin and tonic?”

Annoyed at her change of topic, Logan nodded and tried again. “Amelia?”

She mixed the drink, and slid it over to him. “He told me to take your orders tonight.”

Logan’s jaw actually hurt from how hard he clenched it shut. He looked down the length of the bar, but he saw no sign of Tate. He turned on his stool and looked around the dimly lit area, and still, no Tate.
Where is he?

As Logan faced Amelia once again, his eye caught Tate walking out from the back hall. He threw a towel over his shoulder and made his way up to the counter with a smile for—Logan turned to check—a redhead with huge—

“Logan?”

“What?” he snapped, aiming his glare at the woman in front of him.

“You want anything else?”

Logan picked up the glass, brought it to his lips, and before taking a drink, he mumbled, “No.”

Amelia leaned across to him, as Logan continued to sit, irate.

Once upon a time, he would have been looking at a way to get her out the back, but now, all he could do was think about how she could help get Tate to talk to him again.

“He’s been looking at the door all evening, if that helps.”

It did, but Logan wasn’t going to admit it. Instead, he brought his eyes to hers and hated the fact that they no longer did anything for him.

“Tell him I’m here?”

Amelia stepped back with a laugh. “Oh, he knows. That’s why he went out the back.” She started to walk away, and then at the last moment, she looked back at him. “It’s nice to finally see
you
having to work for the attention.”

Logan raised his glass to take a sip, and eyed Tate as he continued laughing with the redhead. Yes, he’d worked damn hard for Tate’s attention, and he would be fucked if someone else stole it—
even
for five minutes.

* * *

Tate could sense Logan’s eyes on him. There was no way he was going to serve him tonight. He was too mad to even talk to the guy, let alone have a verbal sparring match with him. So, he’d sent Amelia instead.

She, of course, had been curious about what was going on, but surprisingly, she had not asked any questions. She’d merely smiled and agreed to do it. It was, however, killing Tate not to look over at the other end of the bar. He hadn’t realized how strongly he was drawn to Logan until he was ordering himself not to be.

With a wide smile and a view directly down her pink blouse, the woman in front of Tate was trying her very best to convince him to take her number, or perhaps give his own.

“So, what’s your name?”

Tate gave her a quick grin knowing exactly what his role was in this little game. “Well, if I tell you that, you’ll know all the important facts and leave me.”

“Oh, I’d never leave you,” she purred. “You’re too nice to look at.”

Somewhat flattered, Tate eyed the drink in front of her. “I think your drink has impaired your vision.”

“No, it hasn’t. This is only my second one, and you are just…
mmm
…delicious.”

Tate knew it was her third. He’d been counting.

He wondered, not for the first time,
How do I always end up in conversations like this?
It was part of the job, he supposed.

Knowing that if he played it up, the tip would likely be a good one, he leaned his side against the bar and continued chatting. “Hard day at the office?”

Red took a sip of her Manhattan and raised a brow. “Are you changing the subject?”

“Not at all. What would you like to talk about?”

“How about you? Are you single?” she daringly inquired, letting her eyes roam all over him.

Tate wasn’t shocked that her look provoked zero response from him, but he was surprised that the mere thought of the man in the gray suit at the other end of the bar had his cock twitching and his skin heating.
Fucking Logan.

“Not much to tell,” he replied, choosing to ignore the relationship question.

“Oh, come on,” Red coaxed. “Gorgeous guy, bartender. I bet you have the best stories.”

Tate almost groaned at the irony and wondered how she would feel if he told her,
Well, that man down there with the sexy glasses? Yeah, he started flirting with me, just like you are now, and we had sex. It was absolutely mind-blowing sex that I can’t stop thinking about it even though he was a total asshole today about something that could totally change my life. How’s that for a story?

But Tate didn’t tell her that. Instead, he shrugged. “A bartender is just like a priest. We listen to all kinds of confessions, but we never speak of them after they have left the customers’ lips.”

Red moved her drink aside, and reaching across the bar, she traced a finger over the back of his hand. “So, I could tell you anything, and you wouldn’t tell a soul?”

Looking into her eyes, Tate tried to see if he could feel the way he did when Logan stared at him, but as she dropped her gaze to his mouth, Tate felt,
nothing
.

“That’s right.” He glanced down, finally allowing himself a chance to appreciate that she had an amazing set of breasts. The problem was, he was much more interested in the dick at the other end of the—

“Is this seat taken?”

The redhead turned first to see who’d spoken. Of course, the second her attention landed on Logan, she pulled her hand back from Tate, the less-than-accommodating bartender, and instead, she focused on the seductive and interesting—

Asshole
.

“It is now. Please, feel free…” she invited.

Tate fired a drop-dead glare in Logan’s direction.

 “To do?” Logan drawled as he looked to Tate with aggravation swirling behind those glasses.

“Whatever you like,” she told him. Reaching out, she ran her fingers, the same ones that had just stroked
his
hand, over the suit covering Logan’s arm.

“You know what I’d really love to do?”

The clueless woman leaned in, and for some reason, Tate braced himself with his palms on the edge of the bar. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt that whatever Logan was gearing up to say, was not going to be even remotely appropriate.

“No, what?”

Logan also moved forward until his lips almost brushed against the woman’s, but at the last second, he turned his attention on him. “Your bartender.”

Okay
, Tate thought,
there’s no doubt here. My cock definitely knows who it wants.

“Huh?” Red asked, clearly not understanding.

But Tate wasn’t confused by the words or the look Logan was aiming at him. It screamed,
You’re mine, not hers.

“Your bartender,” Logan repeated and turned back to face her while Tate held the wood under his hands. “I want to
do
him, as in take off his clothes and fuck him, and you’re in my way.”

Tate witnessed the woman, whose mouth had parted in shock, turn and face him as if waiting for—

Sorry, lady. I’m used to his mouth
.

As the three of them remained locked in an awkward silence, Tate decided he needed to do something since it was apparent Logan was just going to stir shit up if left to his own devices.

Looking across to him, Tate managed, “Can I get you something?”

Logan licked his lips. “You. Alone in a room.”

“No,” Tate countered.

“Why? Scared of me? You should be. I don’t like being ignored.”