He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, tell it to someone who couldn’t hear her crying out in here.” He pushes against my chest playfully. “Next time, warn a guy so he can leave. That shit was loud.”

What was loud? I’m confused.

Very dramatically, he signs, “Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Logan! Logan! Logan!” He punches me again. This time it hurts. I rub at the spot. “That shit would have been hot if it hadn’t been my brother on the other side of the door. As it was, it was just awkward.”

I couldn’t hear her. Sorry. I am. Well, sort of.

“No shit,” he says. He’s looking very closely at me. “You all right?”

I nod. Then I shake my head. Fuck, I don’t know.

“What’s wrong?”

She’s making me crazy, man. Stark-fucking crazy.

“You just got laid, and you’re complaining?” He waves his hands in dismissal. “I don’t even want to hear it. Do you know how long it’s been for me? Shit, ass**le. You don’t get to be all torn up inside when you just got some.”

I didn’t get any.

“Shut up. And stop rubbing it in.”

I run a frustrated hand through my hair and close my eyes.

He taps my chest with his open palm, forcing me to open my eyes. “Wait. You’re serious.”

I nod. I said something stupid to her. She was crushed. And it was all my fault.

“So...” he prompts

So, I wanted to make her feel better. I’m not giving you details.

“It’s like you’re being re-virginized. That shit’s f**ked up.” He has this mock look of abjection on his face.

I can’t hold back my grin. Tell me about it.

“You’re going to be late for work,” Paul warns.

Shit. I am going to be late for work. I run out of the bathroom just as Hayley runs in. Paul picks her up and dances around with her in his arms. He has her every other Friday until the next Friday. And he loves every second of it.

Pete’s standing beside Kit in the living room. “You ready?” he asks.

Kit’s shuffling from foot to foot, avoiding my eyes. I walk over to her, tip her face up to mine and kiss her. It’s a kiss full of promises of what could be. And what’s not possible yet. She’s breathless and clutching my shoulders when I pull back. “Thank you,” she says. She signs it at the same time and my heart swells.

Ready, I sign to Pete.

He follows us into the hallway and I catch him looking at Kit’s ass. Knock it off, I sign to him.

He grins and shrugs. I can’t help it.

I can, I warn. I mock punching my fist into my open palm.

He looks away somewhat sheepishly. I motion for him to look at me. Help me take care of Kit tonight? In case I get busy with something.

Pete nods. He understands exactly what I mean.

Emily

The name of the club is Bounce. Logan leads me by my fingertips through the back door, but on the way from the street, I see a huge line out front, and a few men about Logan’s size watching the door. This place is nothing like I expected. It’s a lot bigger.

A big, burly guy in an apron stops us as we walk inside the rear entrance and puts a hand in the middle of Logan’s chest. He looks at me and lifts his brow.

Logan starts to sign something and Pete translates. “She’s with me.” Pete sheepishly looks over at me and points a thumb toward Logan. “Well, with him,” Pete admits. “She’s 19,” Pete interprets. The guy motions over a man with a stamp pad and he stamps the word “no” on the back of my hand. I roll my eyes. Seriously?

“It’s a bar sweetheart. I’ll get in all sorts of trouble if someone serves you when they shouldn’t.” He has him stamp Pete’s hand too.

I nod. I understand.

“Is she deaf, too?” he asks.

Logan shakes his head.

I think he says something like “flavor of the night” as he walks away, rolling his eyes. Pete goes with him.

Logan leads me to the end of the bar and shoves a really big guy off his stool. The man teeters, complains, and turns to find Logan standing behind him. The man holds up both hands like he’s surrendering to the cops, turns and walks away. “Why did you that?” I ask.

He shrugs. “You needed a seat.”

He says it like I needed a soda. “But you just shoved him off the chair.”

Logan follows him with his yes. “He didn’t care.”

“He didn’t care because he thought you would kick his butt if he said anything.”

He nods. Like he would kick his butt. Seriously?

“What?” he asks. He pats the stool. I slide onto it slowly and look at him.

“You want me to stay here?” I point to the stool. The bar. The general area.

He nods. He tips my face up so that I look at him. “Don’t drink anything unless the bartender gets it for you. Do you understand?”

Not really, but I nod.

“I’m serious,” he says.

“Where are you going?”

“To work.” He presses his lips to my forehead, holding there for a moment. Then he bends his head and says close to my ear. “Just so you know -- I can still taste you on my lips.” He looks down toward my lap. Heat floods my face. I’m probably as red as a tomato, but I force myself to look into his eyes.

“Wish I could say the same.”

He groans, pushes back from me, winks, and walks away.