Read Online Sidelines (Wounded Hearts #1) by S. M. Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: S. M. Smith
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of what they’re putting in their body.”
Is that blush on those high cheeks?
“I have to be. I can’t just allow myself to indulge in whatever like some of the guys do. I have to be in tip-top condition so I can run 40 yards in 4.34 seconds.”
Valid point.
“So you don’t ever indulge in anything? Not even your momma’s home-cooking?”
He narrows his eyes, but they lack seriousness, urging me to keep on it. I lay my pen down on my notepad and stare back at him, prepared to wait him out. I don’t have to wait long.
“Tacos. Enchiladas. Tex-Mex food in general, really. But the more authentic it is, the more I’m a sucker.”
Pressing my lips together to avoid smiling at him, I nod and pick my pen back up. I sense him lean over my writing as I jot down a note. Peering up at him through my lashes I ask, “Something wrong?”
“Nope.” He watches as my hand continues to scribble out my newfound knowledge. When I sit back up his stony face is back in expressionless order.
“You’re dedicated to your family. I wasn’t here an hour and you’d spoken to your parents at least twice and were on your way to go assist them with their farm, leaving your own ranch to your guys here to take care of it. You love your sisters, are super protective of them both. But…”
This time, I don’t know if I can look at him when I bring this up. I know that the last time anyone asked Logan about him, that interview didn’t end up nearly as well as any of my interactions so far with Logan have.
“But?” I can hear his jaw clenching without even looking at him. When I do, I’m not disappointed.
“Listen, I’ll be upfront. People are going to want to know what the deal is with your brother—” He starts to stand so I do the same. “Logan, hear me out.”
“Nope. We’re done for the night.” His quick legs easily weave his way out of the furniture and leap him up onto the main floor with little effort.
“I don’t want to talk about him right now.” This makes him stop but he takes a moment before he finally turns to face me.
“But you’re eventually going to want to. So I’ll be up front with you. I have nothing to say about Drew. We don’t get along, and we have a mutual understanding to not speak to or about one another. End of topic.”
“I can’t not ask. Nothing has ever been reported—”
“I said I have nothing to say, Allie. We’re done for the night.”
He turns and heads down the hall that leads to a few closed doors and the gym. He opens the door to the left and enters without so much as a backward glance.
Well, that went well.
Chapter Six
There is no bacon the next morning and if I’m being honest, I’m not entirely surprised. There is an omelet still warm in the oven and a note letting me know that Logan will be heading into the practice field for some time with his personal trainer today. Again, no surprise that I’m not invited to meet said trainer. Shaking my head, I leave the omelet in the oven while I fill up my water bottle and head toward the gym.
Walking down the hall I replay the night before, disappointed that Logan didn’t re-emerge from whatever cave he marched into before I finally called it a night. I waited until almost midnight for him to head upstairs to apologize, but I fell sleep on the couch watching a documentary on the legendary Coach Anthony Jefferson and his legacy with the Columbus Comets. When I woke up a couple of hours later, a blanket I hadn’t known existed was draped over me and the TV had been turned off. I thought the gesture was a peace offering and that maybe, just maybe, we’d be able to get along this morning. But there is no bacon this morning, so I’m guessing not.
Plugging earbuds in, I almost miss the sound of the treadmill being turned off and a radio being silenced. Not wanting to intrude, and not really knowing what to do, I stop in the hallway and peek in through the cracked door. A very sweaty, very shirtless
Is that blush on those high cheeks?
“I have to be. I can’t just allow myself to indulge in whatever like some of the guys do. I have to be in tip-top condition so I can run 40 yards in 4.34 seconds.”
Valid point.
“So you don’t ever indulge in anything? Not even your momma’s home-cooking?”
He narrows his eyes, but they lack seriousness, urging me to keep on it. I lay my pen down on my notepad and stare back at him, prepared to wait him out. I don’t have to wait long.
“Tacos. Enchiladas. Tex-Mex food in general, really. But the more authentic it is, the more I’m a sucker.”
Pressing my lips together to avoid smiling at him, I nod and pick my pen back up. I sense him lean over my writing as I jot down a note. Peering up at him through my lashes I ask, “Something wrong?”
“Nope.” He watches as my hand continues to scribble out my newfound knowledge. When I sit back up his stony face is back in expressionless order.
“You’re dedicated to your family. I wasn’t here an hour and you’d spoken to your parents at least twice and were on your way to go assist them with their farm, leaving your own ranch to your guys here to take care of it. You love your sisters, are super protective of them both. But…”
This time, I don’t know if I can look at him when I bring this up. I know that the last time anyone asked Logan about him, that interview didn’t end up nearly as well as any of my interactions so far with Logan have.
“But?” I can hear his jaw clenching without even looking at him. When I do, I’m not disappointed.
“Listen, I’ll be upfront. People are going to want to know what the deal is with your brother—” He starts to stand so I do the same. “Logan, hear me out.”
“Nope. We’re done for the night.” His quick legs easily weave his way out of the furniture and leap him up onto the main floor with little effort.
“I don’t want to talk about him right now.” This makes him stop but he takes a moment before he finally turns to face me.
“But you’re eventually going to want to. So I’ll be up front with you. I have nothing to say about Drew. We don’t get along, and we have a mutual understanding to not speak to or about one another. End of topic.”
“I can’t not ask. Nothing has ever been reported—”
“I said I have nothing to say, Allie. We’re done for the night.”
He turns and heads down the hall that leads to a few closed doors and the gym. He opens the door to the left and enters without so much as a backward glance.
Well, that went well.
Chapter Six
There is no bacon the next morning and if I’m being honest, I’m not entirely surprised. There is an omelet still warm in the oven and a note letting me know that Logan will be heading into the practice field for some time with his personal trainer today. Again, no surprise that I’m not invited to meet said trainer. Shaking my head, I leave the omelet in the oven while I fill up my water bottle and head toward the gym.
Walking down the hall I replay the night before, disappointed that Logan didn’t re-emerge from whatever cave he marched into before I finally called it a night. I waited until almost midnight for him to head upstairs to apologize, but I fell sleep on the couch watching a documentary on the legendary Coach Anthony Jefferson and his legacy with the Columbus Comets. When I woke up a couple of hours later, a blanket I hadn’t known existed was draped over me and the TV had been turned off. I thought the gesture was a peace offering and that maybe, just maybe, we’d be able to get along this morning. But there is no bacon this morning, so I’m guessing not.
Plugging earbuds in, I almost miss the sound of the treadmill being turned off and a radio being silenced. Not wanting to intrude, and not really knowing what to do, I stop in the hallway and peek in through the cracked door. A very sweaty, very shirtless
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