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Logan did a terrible job hiding his shock. “She was married?”
Why was he so surprised? He barely knew her.
And she definitely barely knew him. Few people did.
“Yeah.” Andrew pulled into the driveway of her small, craftsman-style house. “The guy was a real dick.”
Logan stayed quiet as they got out and walked to the door. His eyes darted to Cassidy’s house, and he was relieved to see her car wasn’t there. Running into her now would be awkward as hell. Andrew knocked, and Jeni opened the door. She planted her feet in the doorway, blocking entrance.
Her brown eyes slid to her brother. “Did you ask him?”
Logan took in the woman standing before him, his eyebrows raised. She wore tight jeans that hugged her sculpted legs like a second skin and a loose-fitting Bronco’s jersey that had the opposite effect on the top half of her body.
No problem. His imagination filled in the gaps.
Her hair was piled on top of her head, and he wondered how the hell she got all of it up there. Her thick-framed glasses perched on her nose, and she gently gripped the right side with her thumb and forefinger to scoot them closer to her face.
Andrew tilted his face up in exasperation. “No. You’re ridiculous.”
“Is there a password?” Logan asked.
Jeni looked at him. “The Chiefs aren’t playing. You aren’t rooting for the Raiders, are you? If so, you’re not welcome here.”
He almost said yes just to get a rise out of her. “Probably not.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Okay. Come on in, Squinty.”
Logan grunted and followed Andrew inside. This was going to be an interesting afternoon.
“Squinty?” Andrew asked.
“Don’t ask,” Logan muttered.
Jeni’s house was small, similar to his own. The wood floors creaked under his weight as they passed through the living room, which was like a cross between a man cave and a typical feminine living space.
Man cave: massive flat screen dominating the far wall.
Feminine touch: floral curtains hanging at the windows.
Man cave: framed John Elway jersey.
Feminine touch: coasters and candles on the end table.
Man cave: overstuffed leather couch.
Feminine touch: colorful throw pillows on said couch.
Logan supposed the room was on par with the woman herself—a contradiction. Putting Jeni in the social construct of “typical woman” would be akin to attempting to force a square peg in a round hole.
The space was a little messy too. Not dirty or unclean, just a little disorganized. Several pairs of shoes dotted the front room, books cluttered the coffee table, and a discarded sweatshirt was balled up in the middle of the couch. Probably how he’d find it if he dropped by unannounced, as if she was comfortable enough with her brother and his annoying friend not to impress them with tidiness.
Jeni led them to the kitchen, making a sweeping gesture with her hand. “Help yourselves. Beer and sodas in the fridge, water from the sink if you want it. I’ve got some layer dip that’s almost ready, but it’ll be best if we let it chill for another thirty minutes. Chips are in that cabinet.” She pointed to a slow-cooker on the counter, and the aroma of barbecue and spice was so delicious Logan could almost taste it. “Pulled pork is ready. Buns are there if you want to make a sandwich. And in the cookie jar are some chocolate chip cookies I made yesterday.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “Game’s about to start,” she said, and walked out.
Logan cut his eyes to Andrew, who had a satisfied grin on his face.
“See?” Andrew said.
“Impressive,” Logan admitted. Maybe she wanted to impress them a little bit. Especially with the pulled pork—he wasn’t likely to forget she was a vegetarian. She must have made that just for them.
