Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
"Fuck," Logan growls, jerking beside me. "Peyton, I–"
"If pretending we're dating will help protect your sister, I'll do it," I say, cutting him off before he can apologize. He didn't know, and he was trying to protect me. It's not his fault I had a target on my back before I was ever even born because my father is evil. I appreciate him for trying to protect me. It's more than anyone else has ever done.
"Why?" He glances over at me, curiosity burning in his gaze.
"Because sometimes, the lie is worth it," I murmur. I've survived being a media spectacle my whole life. There's nothing they can throw at me that I haven't already heard. His sister is a different story, however. She has a baby to protect. She doesn't deserve to be in the crosshairs just because some reporter wants to blow up his life. If I can prevent that, I want to do it. "Your sister deserves peace. I'll do my part to make sure she gets it."
"Had I known, I never would have…" The guilt is heavy in his voice. "Christ, Peyton. I'm an asshole."
"You didn't know." I lick my lips, eyeing him warily. "But just so we're clear, we aren't dating, Logan. This is just for show. I'm your fake girlfriend and your assistant. Nothing more."
"Yeah?" He meets my gaze, his eyes dark and fathomless. "How long do you think you're going to be able to keep selling yourself that lie, baby?"
For as long as it takes for it to become true.
"It's not a lie," I say instead of voicing that frightening truth.
"Whatever you say, angel." He smirks at me, shaking his head. "But we both know you're full of shit. Just like we both know you only pretend you hate me because you know if you stop, you'll have to admit how you really feel."
"Yeah, and how do you think I really feel?"
"You're falling for me. You were falling for me before you ever left the bar with me. That's why you were so goddamn mad. And it's why you're so afraid to trust me now. I feel like something you need, and Peyton Cloud doesn't want to need anyone."
"You should really stop buying into your own press, Logan. It's giving you a big head," I mutter, my heart pounding. He's got me pegged so well it's scary. It's uncomfortable. It's…kind of beautiful, too.
What? No. I didn't mean that last part. Absolutely not.
"Whatever you say, baby," he murmurs, exiting the freeway. He meets my gaze again, a smirk dancing on his lips. "But just so we're clear…it doesn't matter how hard you fight or how hard you run. You're going to end up in my arms anyway. Make me bleed if it makes you happy. I'm not afraid of that attitude. You aren't pushing me away. All you'll do is make my fucking cock hard."
"Logan?" I hold his gaze, my eyes narrowed. "Shut up and drive."
Chapter Eight
Peyton
"What are we doing here, Logan?" I ask, reluctantly trailing behind him as he unlocks the front door to his place not even fifteen minutes later.
Instead of responding, he simply shoots me a little boy grin over his shoulder and then disappears inside.
I tip my head back, staring up at the sky.
"Why couldn't you send me a normal hockey player instead of a goalie?" I groan to whoever is up there listening.
Serena said goalies are basically the Siberian Huskies of the hockey world. She didn't mean it as a compliment. Her brother has a husky. Butch argues with birds, takes naps in the bathtub, digs random holes to nowhere, farts without shame, and may or may not bite. He's basically feral but he loves his bed and his people. Logan is like that…only in human form and without the random blasts of swamp gas. He's a menace, specifically to me. Probably to others as well.
Whatever he's paying me isn't nearly enough.
Huh. What is he paying me?
"I need a raise," I growl, stomping into the house after him. "If I'm going to have to deal with your infuriating inability to answer a ques…" I trail off, gaping at the woman standing on the far side of the foyer with a sleeping baby in her arms. The same pretty brunette from the photo in the nursery. Logan's sister, Lauren.
Crap.
She glances up at me, her lips twitching with amusement. The same glints in the depths of her eyes. I don't know how I didn't notice in the photo—probably because I was too busy freaking out—but they're the same exact shade of blue as Logan's eyes.
"Hi," she whispers. "I'm Lauren. You must be Peyton."
"Um, hi," I squeak, turning a death glare on Logan when he steps up beside her, grinning at me like he's proud of himself. "It's so nice to meet you. I'm so sorry. Your baby is adorable."