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I drink more of my margarita.
“You want him.”
“I don’t.” I wrinkle my nose, the truth easily falling from my lips. “He’s nice and I enjoyed interviewing him, it’s definitely a career highlight. But I felt no attraction to him whatsoever.”
“Not Nate.” Chloe rolls her eyes. “Logan.”
I spray the liquid out, coughing. Chloe grabs a napkin and hands it to me.
“Shocker, eh?” She smirks as I dry my lips.
“Oh my god. Don’t. I wish I’d never told you about Italy. A bit of okay sex doesn’t mean anything.”
I ball up the napkin and throw it down on the table before crossing my arms. This’ll teach me for not keeping my mouth shut. But Chloe was there at my apartment when Logan dropped me off. And it slipped out. I tell her everything. A fact I’m now bitterly regretting as her smirk grows, only serving as a reminder of the man I’d rather not discuss.
“Great sex.”
“Huh?”
Her smirk stretches. “You said great sex.”
I frown, then cast my eyes around the club, sulking. “I doubt I used that word.”
“‘Great sex, Chloe. The man is hung, Chloe. I came so hard I saw stars, Chloe. But I still hate him, Chloe, I promise.’”
She smiles sweetly as I turn back to her with a glare. “That was the jetlag talking.”
“From Italy? Please. They’re like one hour ahead.”
I knock back the rest of my drink. “I don’t want Logan. I never have. I don’t even like him most of the time.”
“Most?” Chloe lifts one brow.
“All of the time,” I add. “I don’t like him all of the time.”
“And you especially don’t like him kissing the woman his dad wants him to marry.”
I seethe as she challenges my gaze without flinching.
“I didn’t call you to get drunk with me so you could lecture me about things that aren’t even true.” I look at the crowded bar. It will take ages to get another drink. The thought has pissed off energy swirling through my body. “Let’s dance.” I grab her hand and pull her up with me as I sling my purse strap over my arm.
“Sounds good to me.” She grins, looking at something behind me. I turn and spot the two guys on the dancefloor that have caught her attention. Both tall and broad, shirts snug around their biceps. “I’ll have the blond,” Chloe says as she leads me in their direction. “The other one looks more your type.”
I narrow my eyes at her, but she ignores me and maneuvers us closer to them on the dancefloor, until I bump into the blond’s friend.
Sorry, I mouth, looking up into green eyes.
He smiles, dimples popping in his cheeks as he pushes his light brown hair back from his eyes. It’s longer than Logan’s. And his eyes are a gray green, not an electric emerald like Logan’s.
Damn it. Why am I thinking about him?
Chloe winks at me from her position in the blond’s arms as she grinds against him to the music. That girl does not waste time.
I turn back to the guy in front of me. He’s still smiling. It’s not his fault my friend has thrown me at him with all the subtlety of a tornado.
“I’m Maddy,” I shout above the loud music.
“Kent,” he shouts back.
