The girl stretches up on her toes and plants a kiss right on his mouth. “Call me?” she asks, looping her arms around his neck.
“I will,” Logan promises, flashing that grin that probably gets him whatever he wants.
She gives him one last kiss and her eyes meet mine for a brief second before she heads for the door.
I snort under my breath and keep walking toward the kitchen once she closes the door behind her. “You won’t.”
Logan’s laugh follows me. “Couldn’t even if I wanted to. I don’t do numbers, Hayes. You should know that by now.” He pads in behind me, barefoot, the floor creaking under his weight. “I just flash a smile and—bam—they follow me home.”
I grab a mug from the cupboard, glancing at him over my shoulder. “Trust me, I know. We share a wall.”
That earns a low snort of laughter. He leans against the counter, his arms folded across his bare chest. “Wow.TheNathan Hayes is keeping tabs on me? Didn’t think you cared.”
“I don’t.” I pour the coffee, focusing on the mug. “You’re loud as fuck. Hard not to notice.”
He smirks, tilting his head. “Sounds like you’re paying attention.”
I take a sip, the burn sharp on my tongue. “More like trying to drown out the noise.”
He runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it into an even bigger mess, but somehow still looks like he walked out of a GQ shoot. “You sure you’re not jealous?”
“Of what?” I ask, not looking up. “Your inability to remember names? The revolving door of one-night stands?”
“Names are overrated.” He leans in a little, his teasing voice pissing me off. “They remember me just fine.”
I roll my eyes. “Charming.”
“Admit it. You like having me around.”
I don’t answer, but my eyes betray me instead, dropping to the sweatpants low on his hips and the tight abs that flex when he leans against the counter.
And I hate that I notice.
“You need to get serious,” I tell him, setting my mug down on the counter. “Party less. Show up on time. Dad’s already on my ass about you.”
Logan raises a brow, his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to laugh. “Ah, there it is. My morning lecture. Right on schedule.”
“It’s not a lecture,” I mutter, even though I can hear how stiff I sound. “I just don’t want to spend the season playing babysitter.”
He shifts his weight, smirking as he crosses his arms over his chest again. “Babysitting, huh? That’s rich. You realize everyone calls you the team daddy, right?”
I shoot him a look, heat creeping up the back of my neck. “No one calls me that.”
“Oh, they do.” His green eyes twinkle when he shoots me a smirk. “Daddy Hayes in the locker room. Daddy Hayes at home.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, gripping the counter edge. “You need a hobby.”
“I have one.” His smirk deepens. “Pissing you off.”
“Congratulations,” I say dryly. “You’re excelling at it.”
He chuckles, pushing off the counter. “Relax, Hayes. You worry too much.”
My eyes drift to the smirk on his lips, my stomach tensing. Why do I keep looking at him? Why the hell can’t I stop?
I grip the counter edge. “Someone needs to. I don’t want this season going to hell because you can’t control yourself.”
He’s about to fire back when we hear footsteps.