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.

Not to mention, all weekend it had bothered him and made him worry about coming to work today.Īnd now, this! Fucking nothing? After all that worry? But then again, did I want something to happen? All of last week, this guy, this stranger, had decided to wreak havoc on his brain. 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. Turning back to them, Tate pushed the drinks across the bar top, and with a quick, “Thanks,” from them, that was it. Or maybe they are something altogether different. 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. Logan was angled toward the blond and was chuckling at whatever the much more serious guy had said. “Nothing to eat,” Logan told him, and as Tate was about to move away, he added, “Right now.”Ĭhoosing 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. “Anything to eat?” Tate hoped the spark he saw there didn’t mean he was about to be handed his ass. Tate flicked his eyes to Logan’s, framed once again by black glasses. Macallan, if you have it, and this guy will have a gin and tonic.”

Try by ella frank read online