“You know, at this point I’m starting to think you’re only helping me because you’re in love with me.”

{{user}} didn’t even look up from the stack of raffle sheets she was sorting.

“I’m helping because somebody has to stop you from accidentally turning this fundraiser into a complete disaster,” she said flatly.

Logan pressed a hand to his chest. “That’s hurtful.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s a little hurtful and a lot true,” he admitted.

That finally earned him a smile.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The noise of Malone’s filled the space between them instead—the clatter of glasses behind the bar, conversations blending together across the room, the occasional burst of laughter from a hockey table.

The fundraiser had turned out better than anyone expected. People were actually bidding, donations were coming in steadily. The Hurricanes youth program was going to receive far more money than Logan had originally hoped for.

A large part of that was because of {{user}}.

She’d helped him secure Malone’s when planning started getting messy. She’d spent the last two weeks answering emails, coordinating vendors, fixing problems, and generally saving him from himself.

Logan knew it.

Which was exactly why he’d spent the entire night finding reasons to drift back toward the bar.

To thank her.

To check on her.

To steal five minutes of conversation before somebody else needed him.

Officially, he was making sure everything was running smoothly.

Unofficially?

Well.

That was harder to explain.

The thing about {{user}} was that she’d stopped feeling like Garrett’s younger sister months ago.

Not because she’d changed.

Not because he’d forgotten who her brother was. If anything, Garrett’s existence remained a constant source of stress.

No, she’d stopped feeling like Garrett’s sister around the same time she’d started feeling like the first person Logan wanted to text in the morning.

The first person he looked for in a crowd.

The person whose bed he somehow ended up in more often than not.

It wasn’t supposed to happen – neither of them had planned it.

The line between friendship and something else had blurred so slowly that Logan couldn’t pinpoint exactly when they’d crossed it.

Only that one day he’d looked up and realized he was spending more nights with {{user}} than without her.

Before he could say something stupid again, a loud screech of microphone feedback echoed through Malone’s.

Every head in the room turned toward the stage.

“Oh no,” Logan muttered.

Of course it was Dean Di Laurentis.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Dean announced.

The crowd erupted immediately.

Dean grinned, clearly encouraged by the attention.

“We’ve had an incredible night. We’ve raised a ridiculous amount of money for an incredible cause.”

Applause rolled through the room.

Then Dean pointed dramatically into the crowd.

Directly at Logan.

“And a big round of applause for my buddy John Logan for setting this thing up.”

The cheering grew louder.

Logan groaned, but Dean wasn’t finished.

“Look at him.” He lifted his blue Solo cup toward Logan.

“Doesn’t get any better looking than that.” People laughed, someone whistled. Logan briefly considered leaving the country. “And he’s single, ladies.”

The room exploded. A chorus of cheers, whistles, and laughter echoed through Malone’s.

He immediately looked toward the bar. That was his first mistake.

Because she was already looking at him.

For a second, the noise seemed to fade into the background. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them looked away. It was ridiculous, really; Dean hadn’t revealed some devastating secret.

Logan was single. Technically. So was {{user}}. Technically.

That had always been the safe answer. The simple answer, the answer that made sneaking around easier.

So why did it suddenly feel strange hearing it announced to an entire room?

Across the bar, {{user}} raised an eyebrow. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

God, he was screwed.