Page 88 of Hearts Storm

Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting warm light over round tables draped in white linen. And a DJ is set up in the corner. Firefighters in their dress uniforms mingle with townspeople all gussied up in their finest.

Damn. I could really use a drink.

I spot Sasha and Jax across the room, and give them a small wave.

Sasha gives me a thumbs up and mouths. “Damn. You look hot!”

Shaking my head, I roll my eyes at my friend, who then narrows hers back at me.

“Thirsty?” Brex asks.

“Yes, please. I’d kill for a Riesling.”

“You got it.”

As he heads over to the bar, I take a moment to scan the room. My heart stutters when my eyes land on Logan.

Holy. Fucking. Balls.

Standing at the bar, his dress uniform—a crisp navy blue jacket with gold buttons, polished brass badge catching the light—is pressed to perfection, hugging every hard-earned inch of his impressive frame. His dark hair is combed back, jaw freshly shaved, and the way he holds himself, all rigid with authority and quiet broodiness, makes my mouth go dry.

I can’t breathe. I literally cannot breathe.

Every nerve ending in my body is firing at once, heat flooding my cheeks and down my neck.

Sidling up next to him, Brex leans in close, says something in his ear, then turns his attention to the bartender.

Logan’s head snaps up, sharp green eyes bouncing around the room.

When they land on me, he freezes.

My world instantly blurs—the music, the chatter, the clinking of glasses—all fade into static white noise as his gaze locks onto mine. For one suspended heartbeat, neither of us moves.

Then his eyes drop.

Dark and blazing, they slowly, deliberately, trace the curve of my neck, lingering on the swell of my breasts before following the line of the dress as it hugs my waist, my hips, my thighs.

Every part of me his eyes touch, my skin burns.

When they finally meet mine again, I swear the temperature in the entire room spikes ten degrees, making my knees wobble.

Other than that, there is no reaction.

Giving me his back, Logan says something to Brex that makes him nod. Then he takes the drink the bartender slides across the bar and strides across the room toward a group of older men in suits, disappearing into their circle without so much as a backward glance.

“Here you go, Pretty,” Brex says, handing me the Riesling. His voice is warm, but there’s something knowing in his eyes as they flick between me and where Logan just disappeared.

“Thanks,” I croak, downing half of it in one go. The crisp, cool liquid does absolutely nothing to extinguish the fiery inferno raging beneath my skin.

“I take it you saw him?” Brex asks casually, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Who?”

He snorts. “Don’t play dumb, Rey. It doesn’t suit you.”

I glare at him over the rim of my glass. “Yes, I saw Logan. And he saw me. Couldn’t even be bothered to come over and say hello. Guess he’s still mad.”

“Mm-hmm.” Brex’s mouth curls, making his dimples pop. “Don’t worry about that. How about we play a little game?”