Sidelines (Wounded Hearts #1) by S. M. Smith

consider saying, “where else would you have preferred me to be?” but all that comes out is, “yes.”
    “Did she say anything?” The muscles along his jaw tense again. Yep, definitely a story there.
    “Not really.”
    He slowly turns to me, an expression that tells me he’d like me to explain what I mean by that on his face. Well, sorry pal. How’s it feel?
    Crossing my arms, I let one hip jut out in defiance. “What exactly is it that you hope she didn’t say?”
    The sea rolls in his eyes and I suddenly fight the urge to rush to him and hug him. Odd.
    “Nothing. There’s nothing to be said there.”
    “Why do I doubt that?”
    “Don’t push it, Allie.” I sigh as he starts to return his attention back to the bottles on the counter in front of him. His head snaps back up at the sound of my heavy exhale. “Something wrong?”
    “Honestly, yes. But I have no wish or desire to start this evening off on the wrong foot, so I’ll let it go. For now.”
    He puts the paper down on the counter and sighs himself. I’m beginning to understand that when he runs his hand through his scruffy, dark hair that it’s his attempt at becoming reasonable again. “Allie.” He doesn’t say anything, but a myriad of emotions cross his face all at once, the first sign of me finally getting under his skin.
    “Yes, Logan.”
    He stares at me with what looks like exhaustion for a moment longer before he glances down at Hank. When he looks back up at me, his face is stolid again. “How does some Mexican sound for dinner?”
    Of all the things I thought he was going to say, that was not it. “Mexican? Is it some gourmet, high protein, low carb recipe you have stashed around here for when you want to cheat on your mean green smoothie diet?”
    A sly smile tugs at his lips and I mentally smack myself for being so glib after I just said I wanted things to go smoother tonight.
    “Oh it’s a cheat on my diet for sure. But I wouldn’t call it gourmet, unless you call authentic, fully loaded, high-carb, high sodium, and high protein Mexican ‘gourmet.’ I honestly couldn’t do this place justice.”
    My heart nearly skips a beat at the idea of getting out of here for an evening. But then I remember why I stuck around this afternoon and my hopes are all dashed. “But what about Hank? Is he okay to be left alone?”
    Logan’s pursed lips twitch slightly as he glances down at the poor baby who is watching us banter as if it’s an exciting ping pong match. “We’ll take him with us and bring it back here. We can watch film while we eat, if you don’t mind.”
    I try to ignore the fact that in my book, this plan of food and a football film is what I’d call a “perfect date.” I’m not going on a date with Logan Lassiter though, let alone a perfect one.
    “I don’t mind at all.” I check my watch, wondering if it’s too early to call it dinner time. The late afternoon sun is starting to descend and since I slept through lunch time, my stomach is about to eat itself.
    “Okay, let me shower and check in with Travis. I’ll call in our order and we’ll go pick it up in about an hour. That sound okay?”
    I say, “yes,” as my stomach growls a loud “no.” Hank snorts as if he’s laughing at me. I give the peanut gallery a condescending look but he stands and comes rubbing up against my leg as if to tell me he still likes me, weird stomach noises and all. When I look up, I think I see Logan smirk as he reaches up into a cabinet and pulls a box out. Without any warning a protein bar is flying at my face. I catch the bar and give Logan an appreciative smile.
    He chuckles. “I won’t take long.”
     

 
    Chapter Seven
     
     
    Flipping through the three hundredth channel of nothingness, the back door finally opens. Hank and I both perk up as Logan struts back into the living room in a pair of fitted jeans and a faded, vintage Rattlers t-shirt.
    “You guys ready?”
    I don’t know who gets up faster, me or Hank. I