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The kitchen walls were bright yellow, a color he’d always associated with sunshine and optimism. Not what he would have expected to find in Jeni’s house. But the natural wood shelving and open-concept cabinetry seemed strangely perfect for her, displaying mismatched dishes and an array of eclectic drinkware.
Andrew pulled the layer dip from the fridge—apparently he didn’t want to wait—and grabbed two plates from a cabinet. He handed one to Logan. “Have at it, man.”
Both men loaded their plates with food, selected beers from the fridge, and settled themselves in front of the television, the sweatshirt still untouched and crumpled between them. Jeni was already curled in an armchair nearby, her eyes glued to the screen.
The Broncos game was first on the agenda, followed by Green Bay. Even though the Chiefs were Logan’s favorite—had been since he was thirteen—he and Andrew were in a fantasy football league with some other guys, and he had several players to keep an eye on today.
Jeni remained quiet during the first few plays of the game, and Logan wondered how much she really knew about football. He hadn’t met too many women who—
“False start!” she yelled, two seconds before the flag was thrown.
Andrew leaned in Logan’s direction. “Just a head’s up—Jeni gets a little fired up.”
“Do not,” she said.
Andrew snorted.
“You’re one to talk,” she said. “You’re the one who broke the coffee table during the 2014 Super Bowl.”
Andrew grimaced.
“What about you?” Jeni turned her amber-colored eyes on Logan. “Are you one of those people who just sits there quietly during a game? The Chiefs suck, so I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
Logan kept a carefully neutral expression, refusing to be needled. “I get excited when the time is right.”
Her eyes remained on his for a moment, like she was deciding whether it was worth it to say anything else.
The three chatted a little during the first quarter, and Logan maintained active surveillance of Twitter and Facebook activity. When it was almost half-time Jeni, mid-sentence, leapt off the couch and stabbed a finger at the television. “Pass interference!”
Logan shook his head. “Incidental contact.”
She glared at him. “Bullshit. Jones grabbed his arm.”
“He was competing for the ball.”
“By ripping Cortado’s shoulder out of socket?”
Logan regarded her for a moment. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes wild, and threads of hair had begun to fall loose. “Remind me never to play a board game with you.”
She waved a hand of dismissal and sat back down, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Seems like you’d just be on your phone the whole time anyway.”
Logan stiffened. “It’s my job.”
“Whatever.”
Two minutes later she was up again. “Face mask!”
Logan turned wide eyes on Andrew.
“Told you,” Andrew said around a mouthful of food.
By the third quarter, her voice was getting hoarse. The Broncos were down by seven, and the quarterback was moving the ball all wrong.
“He’s rushing it,” Logan said.
“He’s trying to make a play,” Jeni defended.
“Fast doesn’t always get the job done.”
