Crush(57)

We were at Molly’s. The place had been closed to the general public. Frank, who owned the pub that had been turned into a club by his daughter, Molly, was Killian’s next-door neighbor for years, and he mourned Killian’s death along with everyone else. Perhaps as a way of showing his condolences to the family or perhaps because he just wanted to help, he had not only volunteered to host the after-funeral affair, but also to cook for the almost one hundred people who had shown up to say goodbye to Killian.

Faces I’d never seen had come and gone, all within a five-hour time span. I worked in the morning and met Logan here after the funeral. I needed to stay away from the public eye in case someone who knew Michael saw me. There was no way I could explain being at Killian’s funeral that would make any sense.

Obviously, I hadn’t gone through with my plan, and I had yet to confess anything to either Michael or Logan. I had gotten sidetracked by the death of Killian. And the more time that passed, the more scared I became to talk to either man. Both outcomes were just so uncertain.

Finally, the funeral reception was coming to an end, and all that remained were Logan’s friends from New York City.

Logan’s mother and maternal grandfather did not come and Logan said it was for the best. In fact, he had asked them not to. I guess he knew they didn’t care for Killian and didn’t want to have to deal with them today of all days.

Since Logan, his father, and uncle had arrived in a limo, Logan’s uncle had taken the Rover that I used to drive to Molly’s and brought Sean home a couple of hours ago. Being around all these people drinking wasn’t a great idea for Sean, but I guess at Irish funerals booze couldn’t be avoided.

“How long have you known Logan?” Phoebe St. Claire, one of Logan’s best friends from New York City, asked from across the table.

Both our feet killing us, we had retired to a dim booth in the corner. The sound of her voice caused my gaze to shift from Logan over to her. “Three weeks.”

Phoebe took a bite of her Irish soda bread. “That’s all? The way he talked about you I would have thought it was much longer.”

My hands on my coffee mug, my smile couldn’t be contained. “He talked about me to you?”

“Well, not to me but to Jamie, who in turn mentioned it to me.”

I glanced back over to where Logan sat at the bar with the group of people I had learned were a very close-knit circle of best friends. There was James Ashton and his new wife, Lindsay; Phoebe’s husband, Jeremy McQueen; Emmy Lane; Lily Monroe; and Danny Capshaw. They all had come this morning to be beside Logan and help him through this tragedy in his life.

It was touching.

Strangely, I realized I yearned for something like that in my own life. How had I gone through thirty years with not even one single person to confide in? Had my past shattered me that much that I couldn’t connect to anyone?

God, I hoped not.

Sipping my coffee in contemplation, I burned my tongue it was so hot and winced.

“You okay?” Phoebe asked me.

I blinked. “Yes. The coffee is really hot, so be careful. What about you? How long have you been married?”

She laughed and glanced at her protruding belly. “Less time than I’ve been pregnant. Jeremy and I met over five years ago, but we just reconnected last year. Logan actually helped us find our way back to one another.”

“Logan is a matchmaker?” I couldn’t believe it.

“No,” she admitted, “but he did take me to a launch party for Assassin’s Creed that Jeremy was attending.”

Games?

Logan?

“You’re kidding. Logan plays video games?” I laughed.

“Oh, yes. Jamie and he claim to be masters at all things video.”

Ripping open a packet of sugar, I added it to my coffee to help subdue its bitter taste. “I had no idea.”

“No idea about what?” Logan asked, sliding in beside me. I’d never seen him drink, but tonight he most certainly had indulged. Slightly drunk, he found my thighs as soon as he set his glass down and pushed them apart. His fingers were cold, and tingles traveled up to my sex and down to my toes.

“That you’re a Guitar Hero master,” Phoebe said with a laugh.

Logan rolled his eyes while at the same time, under the table, his hand snuck beneath the hem of my dress. “That was a long time ago.”

“Not that long ago,” she countered.

I shifted in my seat as fingers found the inside seam of my hose and traced up it.

Thank God Jeremy slid in next to his wife and took Phoebe’s attention off us.

“Logan,” I warned quietly through my teeth.

My warning went unheard as his hot breath blew in my ear. “What?” He chuckled.

My gaze shot across the table, trying to focus on anything but the pleasure radiating from my core.

Jeremy placed his hand on Phoebe’s cute belly and whispered something in her ear. A strange pang of envy ripped through me; not at the loving couple I was looking at but at her belly, carrying a human being.

Phoebe nodded at him and looked over to Logan. “We need to get going. We have to be back in the city early for a meeting.”

“Thank you for coming,” Logan said. There was a quick press of his thumb right to my clit and then his hand was gone. “Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes,” he ordered hot in my ear.