Try (Temptation Series) (7 page)

Once in the break room, he quickly hung his jacket and placed the helmet on top of a crate. The door swung open, and Tate turned to see Amelia come through, pushing a towel into the waist of her pants.

Tate looked over his shoulder at her and gave a friendly smile. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” She leaned her hip up against a table opposite him.

“You have a nice weekend?” Tate asked conversationally.

Amelia nodded, giving him a sassy wink. “Yep, sure did. Went out with some friends Sunday night. What about you? Anything exciting?”

Tate laughed, shaking his head. “Ah, that’d be a negative unless you count going to my parents’ for lunch after church exciting?”

Amelia’s eyebrows rose as she scrunched her face. “Um, no. I don’t call that exciting at all. Torture maybe?”

“Torture is exactly right,” Tate mumbled as he punched in.

There was a slight pause in the conversation and then, “So, Tate, you dating anyone right now?”

Jesus, not her, too.

Looking over his shoulder, he noticed she was focused on his ass. “Nope. Not right now.”

If he were smart, he’d ask her if she was dating anyone either. Tate didn’t think hooking up with Logan for one night counted. Maybe he could finally put an end to his sexual frustration. She did have a nice set of breasts, and her ass was perky and round, just how he liked it. But like an idiot, he didn’t. That didn’t stop her though.

“Me neither.”

Tate faced her, pushing his hands into his pockets, and before he even knew it, he opened his mouth. “What about Logan?”

Immediately knowing it was the wrong thing to say, he watched her face light up as she moved in close, placing her hand on his arm.

“Logan is…Logan,” she replied with a small shrug.

She went to move past him, and Tate let her, but not before asking, “What does that mean?”

She chuckled as they made their way into the main bar area.

“Logan’s got high standards, but he’s also the kind to try anything that captures his attention. That’s what makes it so much fun to make him yours.” She paused and stared into the mirror at the back of the bar. She pulled out a tube of lip gloss from her pocket, painted her mouth, and stuffed it back into her pants. “For the night at least.”

Tate frowned at her casual assessment of using someone for sex, and he wondered why it made him feel bad for Logan. It wasn’t like Logan gave a shit where he stuck his cock. He would be the first to admit that.

“Well, I’ll take your word for it.” Tate moved around her and was about to head out to the bar.

“You don’t have to, you know.”

Stopping, Tate rounded back to see a sneaky grin come across her innocent-looking face. “Excuse me?”

She sidled up close and touched his hand, which was resting on the bench for support—or from the shock of the comment, he wasn’t sure.

Have I really been out of the dating game for so long that this shit is now normal to discuss?

“He’d let you join in with us.”

Tate swallowed once and shifted his feet, looking down at the small hand covering his. When he felt his cock harden, he wondered exactly which part of the scenario it was reacting to—the thought of Amelia naked, the invitation to a threesome, or the man who would watch him as he slid inside the woman now peering up at him.

Removing his hand slowly, Tate made sure not to say anything offensive as he shook his head. “Nah, not really my thing. After a bad relationship, lunch at my mother’s is about as much excitement as I can handle for a while.”

Amelia tilted her head to the side and batted her eyelashes as she giggled. “Maybe it’s time to let us corrupt you.”

Somehow, Tate figured she wasn’t the one who would do the corrupting.
That
particular person was missing for this conversation, yet somehow, his fingerprints were all over it.

“I don’t think so, but thanks for the, uh…invite.”

Just as Amelia was about to reply, a noise from the door had them turning to see four businessmen, mid-twenties, pile into the almost empty bar. With that, she turned to Tate and indicated with a tilt of her head that she would take them.

She gave him a quick wink. “No hard feelings. The offer is open.”

I’m sure it is
, Tate thought, moving to the opposite end of the bar,
but it’s
a little too open for me.

* * *

Logan sat behind his desk, staring at the clock on the wall. It was just turning seven, and he could still hear a few people moving around in the outer office.

His weekend had passed by without too much incident. He’d heard briefly from his mother about her visiting in a few months, but as usual, she’d been all over the place, and she hadn’t officially given him a date. She was still deciding if she wanted to stay with the new boyfriend or come and see him for Memorial Day weekend. It was sad that Logan couldn’t even find the desire to try and convince her to pick him. He’d given up that fight a long time ago.

After the night with Amelia, he’d decided to skip the bar on Saturday to give Tate some downtime.
Time to simmer
.

Time was up though. It had been three days, and Logan was definitely heading there tonight.

Tate was a walking contradiction. Although relaxed and easygoing with others, he always became unsettled around him. And when Logan went out of his way to push a boundary, Tate either stood mute or pushed back. Not once, however, had he gotten overly angry or violent.

It excited Logan—just thinking about getting into an argument with him and ending it with Tate bent over something. Yes, the idea of grappling with Tate was a very appealing one.

As Logan was adjusting the hard-on in his pants, there was a knock on the door. Calling out for the person to come in, he was surprised when Cole stuck his head inside.

“Well, hello. What are you doing here so late? Don’t you have a hot wife to bed?”

Cole stepped inside and pushed the right side of his jacket out of his way, as he stuffed his hand into his pocket. “The hot wife is out with
the girls
, and I wasn’t invited. And Mason and Josh are watching football, which I hate.”

After making sure he was decent, Logan stood and made his way around to his business partner and half-brother. “Aw, and you’re lonely? Well, as flattering as it is that I am your
last
choice, I have something to do tonight.”

Cole raised a blond brow at him. “Something to do? Or someone?”

Logan didn’t take offense as he moved to the couch by the window. He picked up his gray jacket and shrugged into it. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Come on, you know you miss it.”

“Miss what? Hit-or-miss sex? No. Call me logical, but I much prefer having guaranteed hot sex with my wife whenever the hell I want it.”

Logan barely resisted rolling his own eyes, but he’d known Rachel for a long time now, and the woman
was
sexy, no doubt about it.

“Yes, well, there’s no need to be a show-off. It makes you ugly.”

Cole stood exactly where he was, silent as usual when he wanted something.

Logan grabbed his briefcase and sighed. “Okay, fine. Want to come with me?”

“Yep.”

“Wow, you are desperate.”

“No, I’m not, and it’s been too long since we hung out.”

“Well, that’s true. Okay, I was heading down to After Hours. Does that work for you?” Logan moved past Cole and shut off the light.

Apparently it did, because that was where they turned up ten minutes later.

 * * *

Tate had just finished with a rush of customers when a tall blond man took a seat at the end of the bar. Making his way in that direction, Tate was ready to take his order when the seat beside the guy was filled by—
fuck—
Logan.

The two men were chatting, and the blond must have said something particularly funny because Logan let out a loud laugh and slapped his palm on the bar top. Deciding to just suck it up and deal with the cards he was dealt, Tate stopped in front of the two just as Logan turned to him.

Tate made it a point to look at the blond. The guy could’ve been an actor or a model. He was so well put together. Like Logan, he was wearing a suit and palming a cell phone, but unlike Logan, his expression was the usual distant friendly one of a stranger sitting down for a drink. Tate didn’t think Logan had ever looked at him like that once since they had met.

“Hi. What can I get for you tonight?”

Tate waited as the blond brought his free hand to his chin. He rubbed it once and then looked to Logan.

“You getting your usual?”

Tate watched the exchange curiously.

“You know me, creature of habit.”

The blond laughed at that and turned back to Tate.

“I’ll have a scotch, thanks. Macallan, if you have it, and this guy will have a gin and tonic.”

Tate flicked his eyes to Logan’s, framed once again by black glasses.

“Anything to eat?” Tate hoped the spark he saw there didn’t mean he was about to be handed his ass.

“Nothing to eat,” Logan told him, and as Tate was about to move away, he added, “Right now.”

Choosing to ignore that, Tate turned away to grab the scotch off the back shelf, but he kept his focus on the two men in the mirror he was facing. Logan was angled toward the blond and was chuckling at whatever the much more serious guy had said.

He wondered how they knew each other.
Maybe they work together?
That’s the most logical explanation
, Tate thought, until he saw Logan push the big guy’s arm and leave his palm on his bicep in a familiar fashion.
Or maybe they are something altogether different.
Lovers, maybe?

Turning back to them, Tate pushed the drinks across the bar top, and with a quick, “
Thanks,”
from them, that was it.
Over, painless, easy—right?

Walking away from the men, Tate found that he was relieved, yet at the same time, he was also experiencing a different emotion, an emotion he didn’t understand—anger.

He was pissed-off. All of last week, this guy, this
stranger
, had decided to wreak havoc on his brain. Not to mention, all weekend it had bothered him and made him worry about coming to work today.

And now, this! Fucking nothing? After all that worry? But then again, did I want something to happen?

Logan was lucky that Tate wasn’t a violent man because, at that precise moment, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to keep his fists to himself.

* * *

“So, that’s him?” Cole deduced as the bartender turned and walked away.

“Yep, that’s him. What do you think?”

Cole lifted the tumbler to his mouth and took a sip of scotch. “I think he hates your guts.”

Logan shrugged. “Yeah, I think you might be right.”

“I also think he’s straight.”

Logan looked down the bar to where Tate was now laughing with a group of women. He then glanced back at Cole. “So? When has that stopped me?”

“Never,” Cole admitted. He took another sip as he turned in Tate’s direction. “Just be careful.”

Logan laughed. “Don’t worry, dad, I’m always careful. I use condoms too.”

“Not because of that, you idiot. The guy looked pissed off. Be careful you don’t get into something you can’t get out of—like a back alley with a group of guys about to beat the shit out of you.”

Logan glanced back at Tate and lifted his own glass. “I don’t think that will be a problem. Plus, he doesn’t seem the type.”

Cole’s eyebrow rose, as Logan took a quick sip of his drink, “I think he’s pissed about something else entirely.”

As Cole placed his empty glass on the counter, he narrowed his eyes at Logan. “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.”

“Okay, then just be careful.”

“Okay,” Logan added as he signaled for another round.

This time though, Amelia stepped forward, and she proceeded to flirt outrageously with them as they chatted and drank their second drink—Tate free.

* * *

 
Finally, closing time.

Amelia had gone out the back around ten minutes earlier to do God knows what, and Tate was doing a final round of the bar tables and booths. As he made his way down the side row, he saw that someone was waiting in the last booth, and he knew instinctively that it was Logan.

The two of them hadn’t had any more interactions throughout the evening, and when he had seen Logan leave with the blond guy, Tate had figured that would be the end of that. But as he moved to keep walking past the booth, ignoring Logan completely, Tate was out of luck.

“Not even a hello tonight? You
are
mad at me.”

Tate stopped and looked down to where Logan was sitting, relaxed into the side of the booth. He had an arm up on the back of the seat, and his suit jacket was undone, showing off his white shirt and blue tie. Tate also noticed a glass between Logan’s fingertips. Amelia must have served him before heading out the back.

“I said it earlier when you were at the bar.”

“Well, you didn’t say it to me. You said it to Cole.”

Tate glared at the man staring up at him, and with the mood he was in, he decided it was better to walk away, so he did just that. Tate made his way around the wall separating the two main rooms of the bar before he felt a hand grab his shoulder.

Spinning around quickly, as though he had anticipated the touch, Tate almost ran into Logan as he came face-to-face with him.

Tate gritted his teeth, and as calmly as he could, he stated, “You need to take your hand off me—around four seconds ago. You have a nasty habit of taking liberties.”

“I have a lot of nasty habits. Want me to tell you about them?” Logan countered, removing his hand.

Tate felt his blood starting to boil. “You don’t fucking quit do you?”

“What can I say? I don’t like to lose.”

Tate had finally had enough of the cocky attitude and decided it was about time to put Logan in his place. Moving forward, he snarled, “Well, you aren’t going to win anything here. I’m not interested in this little game you’re playing. I work here. You drink here.
That
is where it ends.”