Элла Франк - Try

Logan always went after what he wanted though. That was half of his problem. He had no boundaries. Thanks, Mom. Throughout his life, his mom had been so busy apologizing to him for his worthless sperm donor of a father that Logan had pretty much done whatever he’d wanted to.

But wanting this guy? That was a stupid choice in every way.

First, Logan had no clue if the guy was single. Second, every indication thus far had proven Tate was one hundred percent straight.

So, what the fuck am I doing?

He stood, getting ready to leave, when Tate turned and started walking toward him.

Logan stopped what he was doing and took a moment to admire the way he moved. Long legs encased in black slacks confidently stepped across the space with a purely masculine stride, but the look on his face was not half as certain. He looked worried.

He stopped in front of Logan. “I hope I haven’t offended you in any way tonight, sir.”

Aw, he thinks he pissed off a customer.

It was a pity he couldn’t just say, Relax, Tate. I want to see you naked, not fired.

Instead, Logan took his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out some money. Placing it on the bar, he said, “The only offensive thing you did tonight was forget my name. It’s Logan, not sir. Well, at least it is in this setting.” He pushed his wallet back into his pocket.

Tate shook his head. “There you go again.”

“Excuse me?”

“Being inappropriate,” he pointed out.

Logan hadn’t even realized. “Ah yes, it’s a curse.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

That response intrigued Logan more than he should allow. “What else have you noticed?”

Tate picked up the empty glass. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Okay…” Logan lifted his cell and quickly dialed a number. “You keep telling yourself that.”

Raising the phone to his ear, Logan winked at the silent man standing opposite him.

I don’t care if I have to be here every fucking night. I’m going to have him.

Day three at 11:01 p.m., and Logan still hasn’t shown.

I definitely pissed him off last night. Tate toweled down the top of the bar where one of the customers had gotten sloppy. If only he’d kept his mouth shut and done his damn job, he would have a regular customer who tipped big. But I couldn’t do that, could I? What do I care about the personal lives of my customers? Usually, he didn’t care at all. He wasn’t the type to gossip, but damn, this Logan guy had deliberately provoked him.

Screw it. Just move on.

At least Logan hadn’t reported him. That was a bonus. Tate had been worried about coming into work this afternoon, only to find out he no longer had a job, but that hadn’t been the case. So, he pushed aside his annoyance and got busy with the Friday night crowd. The fact that the suit hadn’t shown up was bothering him, and that was really starting to piss him off.

It wasn’t as if someone who had slept with nearly the entire staff of women and a few of the men would be sitting around here on a Friday night.

And why am I still thinking about it? Jesus, move on already man.

It didn’t help that before he’d shown up at work, he’d received a call from Diana, who proceeded to tell him that she’d just gotten engaged. That, of course, meant that everything between them needed to be resolved now, and the divorce she’d been putting off would be finalized. Diana had claimed she was doing him a favor by calling, and she’d wanted him to hear it from her first instead of finding out from someone else, or worse, his parents since they all still talked.

How fucking nice for them to all remain friendly. Granted, Tate’s sister had been best friends with Diana before they got married. But where is the damn loyalty? And how on earth did she find some other schmuck to take her on? It’s only been a little over a year. Well, as far as he was concerned, she could go and suck the schmuck as much as she wanted. I’m free now.

Tonight just needed to be written off. It was going down the shitter for sure.

While grabbing a bottle of water for himself, he observed the door being pulled open, and Logan stepping inside.

Tate couldn’t decide if he was relieved the guy had shown or if he was worried about what would come out of Logan’s mouth once he was seated. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to be dicked around, and this guy seemed to push his buttons—and he delighted in the pushing.

Watching objectively as Logan made his way through the crowd, Tate noticed he looked different this evening. The glasses were gone, and he was in jeans and a black V-neck shirt. Although the outfit looked casual, Tate was pretty sure each item of clothing was designer-made. Logan must’ve shrugged his coat off outside because he was holding it down by his leg as he shouldered through everyone, including several women who turned to look him over.

As he got closer, Tate was astounded by the sexual confidence and pull that Logan exuded. It was so obvious and potent that Tate knew Logan could have any pick of the women he wanted. Finally, he made it to the bar and sat down in his usual spot, immediately seeking out Tate and inclining his head in his direction.

Making sure not to give any reaction at all, Tate casually tipped his head back and took a gulp of water, securing his fingers around the bottle. He had always thought of himself as self-assured, someone who knew his way around, especially when it came to playing the game of cat and mouse. He made a living off of it. He was always the cat that never caught the mouse, but he sure played with it for a while to make good money. But in this scenario, with this guy, Tate found himself feeling a lot like the mouse—and that pissed him off.

Pulling the bottle from his mouth, he noticed that Logan’s focus was still on him. He twisted the cap back on and placed the bottle on the bench behind the bar, wondering if he could get the upper hand back. He made his way toward the end of the bar, but just before he got there, Amelia, one of the girls he was scheduled to work with regularly, grabbed his arm.

Tate looked down at her and found wide brown eyes sparkling back at him.

She gave him her best please smile. “Do you mind if I take him?”

Trying to think of a good reason to say no, considering the last two nights Logan had tipped him extremely well, Tate, instead, came up with nothing. “Sure, go ahead.”

Amelia leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re the best.”

Then, she walked down the bar with an extra sway in her step right before she stopped and leaned across the counter to greet Logan.

Fuck. Logan watched as Amelia intercepted Tate and made her way over to him.

“I was wondering if you’d be back in this week. I haven’t had a chance to see you.”

Logan tried to be polite as he turned his vision to the blonde, who had been in his bed a couple of times, but all he wanted—and all he had wanted for the last three days—was currently at the other end of the bar, laughing and smiling at someone else. It was wise to note, Logan supposed, that the other someone had long brown hair and was wearing a rather revealing dress. She was also currently touching what Logan wanted to touch.

Focusing back on Amelia, Logan gave her a friendly wink. “You know me. I’m always in at least three nights a week.”

“I know.” She giggled as though she was embarrassed she’d given away how much she wanted to see him. “It’s just, each time you’ve come in this week, Tate has snagged you before I had the chance.”

“Hmm, yes, the new guy,” Logan mused.

Tate had definitely snagged him, and as he looked beyond Amelia’s shoulder, he noticed that Tate had turned to the back of the bar to grab a liquor bottle from one of the top shelves. As he reached above his head, the snug vest pulled his shirt from his pants, revealing a smooth strip of tanned skin.

Logan licked his lips, wondering just how good Tate would taste. His olive skin was such a delicious complexion. It was definitely natural because, in Chicago, no one looked like that coming out of winter unless it was natural. And I’m volunteering to inspect every fucking inch of him as soon as possible.

As Tate placed the bottle on the bench, he turned his head as if he felt Logan scrutinizing him, and Logan couldn’t help but give in to the urge to openly check him out. He trailed his gaze down Tate’s long frame, at least six feet, and as he came back up in his overtly sexual once-over, he made sure to connect with the disconcerted eyes staring back at him.

Logan offered nothing in the way of his thoughts, which were all centered on getting Tate out of his clothes and his cock into Logan’s mouth, as he turned back to Amelia, who was still chatting about—

Shit, what is she talking about?

“So, what do you want to drink tonight?”

Wow, I’ve been coming here for years, and I order the same thing every time, yet she still asks. Funny, Tate just assumed after the first night, and his assumptions so far have been correct.

That made Logan wonder, What exactly is he assuming right now?

What was that all about?