Second Chance at Love (The MacKenna Born & Bred Trilogy) (5 page)

Had something happened to him? A million thoughts began
running through her mind. Did he have an accident and was unable to call? No,
if that were the case, someone would have called her. The police, the hospital,
one of his idiotic friends. Unless he was unconscious and wasn't able to
respond, and his friends weren't around. She had a sick feeling in the pit of
her stomach. Okay, calm down, she told herself. You don't know what's going on,
so don't assume the worst. She knew one thing. She wasn't going to sit around
and wait for him to show up. She was going to go find him.

When she pulled into the huge circular drive in front of
Ben's family's house, it was already packed. The place was lit up like
Christmas, and people were everywhere.

She ran into Jacqueline and Ian inside. They hadn't seen
Logan. She stood there for a minute talking, telling them what she had discovered
at his dorm room.

Sleazy Jennifer strolled by, looking extra slutty in a
skin-tight dress that was two sizes too small and hugged every curve.

“Look at her,” Jacqueline said, disapproval dripping from
her words. “She's such a whore. I wonder who she's gonna bang tonight. Some
poor, unsuspecting soul, no doubt. Someone should clue her in that she should
buy clothes that actually fit her. Her huge tits are practically hanging out
all over the place.”

Jacqueline eyed her, her contempt evident. Jennifer had
always been a slut, and had slept with pretty much every guy in their
graduating class. And probably some of the females, too, Jacqueline thought,
snickering to herself. She'd hit on Ian in the past, and Logan a handful of
times. She was currently hanging all over one of the football players, and
making a spectacle of herself.

At precisely that moment, Logan walked into the room,
followed by Adam. Brooke heard him before she saw him, and she couldn't believe
her ears. She could have sworn she heard him slur his words. When he spotted
Brooke, he made a bee line for her.

“Hey, Brooke baby,” he said, putting his arms around her
waist and pulling her close. The smell assaulted her senses.

“You smell like a brewery,” she said, scrunching her nose.

“Awe, come on, babe. I don't smell that bad,” he replied,
trying to kiss her. She pushed off of his chest.

She was pissed. Utterly and completely pissed. She'd spent
the past couple of hours worried sick about him and he'd been out
drinking
?
He had some damn nerve.

“Are you serious right now?”

“What?” he wanted to know, looking down at her like he had
no clue at all why she would be so steaming mad.

“I waited for you, Logan, for forty minutes. And when you
didn't show up, I came looking for you. I was worried sick that something had
happened to you.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “And then you show up
here drunk off your ass and act like everything's fine.” Her eyes were shooting
daggers.

“I'm not drunk yet. Just buzzed,” he told her,
matter-of-factly. The death glare she aimed at him told him she wasn't amused.
“I'm sorry. I should have called you. But Adam stopped in just as I was getting
out of the shower and asked me if I wanted to go to the bar for a couple of
drinks with a few of the guys. It was still early, and honestly, I didn't see
the harm in it.”

“Oh, you didn't see the harm in it,” she said,
sarcastically. And to make matters worse, you conveniently forgot all about
me.”

“I didn't forget about you. I just lost track of the time,
that's all. But I'm here now,” he said, with a grin on his face.

She snorted. “And that's supposed to make it all better?
You're an asshole, Logan.”

It took his dull mind a few seconds to register the fact
that Brooke had just called him an asshole. Brooke hardly ever cursed.

“What's your problem? You're making a huge deal out of
nothing. Christ, I said I was sorry for not picking you up. And then you insult
me by calling me an asshole?” He glared at her. “Why are you being such a
bitch?”

“Bitch?
Bitch
?” she yelled. “Go to hell, Logan,” she
tossed back, her voice cracking a little as she tried to hold back the tears.

She pushed past him, and he reached out to grab her as she
sailed by, but he missed.

“Where are you going, Brooke?”

“Home.” It was all she said, and then she disappeared
through the front door. She heard him calling her name, over and over, as she
walked to her car.

On the other side of the room, sleazy Jennifer, still draped
over the quarterback, watched the entire scene. A crafty smile formed on her
over-painted lips.

Brooke turned the door knob slowly, and to her surprise it
wasn't locked.
Hmm, that's odd,
she thought. He always locked the door
at night. He must have forgotten, she reasoned. After all, he had been fairly
drunk the night before. He probably stumbled in during the night and passed
out, not realizing, or simply not caring, that he'd neglected to lock the door.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside, careful not to
make noise in case he was still asleep, or worse, if he was awake and had a
killer hangover.
It would serve him right,
she thought. She couldn't
imagine that it would take much for him to become intoxicated. Logan wasn't a
drinker, after all. He never had been. She could count on one hand how many
times she could remember him drinking in his lifetime. She passed the closet on
her right and continued down the long hallway. She didn't hear a thing, which
meant that he was probably still in bed.

She'd gone back to her dorm room the night before after
their argument at the party. She was pissed, but she knew she would get over
it. Which she had, well, mostly. She didn't like the idea of Logan drinking,
but what had upset her the most was that he'd taken off with his buddy to go
and drink, and hadn't said a word to her. He'd left her waiting, and then
searching for him, sick with worry. It wouldn't have taken much to call her.
She probably would have given him hell, and he knew that, hence the lack of a
phone call. She was still a little annoyed, but it would pass. She hated
fighting with him. It was the first major argument they'd ever had, and it left
her confused and sad inside. She figured he likely felt the same way, or at
least he would, once he was sober. Making up would definitely be worth it,
though, if the thoughts that were running through her mind were any indication.

She rounded the corner to the right to where the bed was
positioned in the room, and it took her a full ten seconds before the shock of
what she saw registered. Logan lay sprawled face down on the bed, totally nude.
His head lay flat on the mattress and turned toward the left. His left arm lay
draped over sleazy Jennifer, who lay on her left side facing him. She was as
naked as he was.

Brooke couldn't think through the shock. All she could do
was stand there for a minute in disbelief, her heart pounding. Then the shock
was replaced by sheer anger. That's when her adrenaline kicked in.

“What the fuck?!” she screamed. Her shriek had only begun to
rouse them from sleep. “Wake your ass up,” she yelled, frantically scanning
Logan's dorm room looking for something, anything, that she could use as a
weapon. She spotted the tennis racquet he had dumped in the chair the day
before. She stalked over and picked it up, and then stomped back over to the
bed. He was slowly beginning to move around. She gripped the handle with both
hands and pulled her arms back and above her right shoulder. She gave the swing
every ounce of strength she had. The blow landed on his lower back. He woke up
instantly, yelling out in pain.

“What the---” He rolled over and sat up in bed, trying to
focus. His head was throbbing like a son-of-a-bitch.  Logan spotted Brooke
standing over him, his racquet in her hands and murder in her eyes. Logan
looked at her, thoroughly confused, and tried to clear his mind. “What the
hell, Brooke? Did you just
hit
me with that fucking thing?”

He barely got the words out before she hauled off and
slammed him in the side of the head with another blow. Jennifer, who woke from
the noise and scrambled up in the middle of the bed, let out a ridiculously
high-pitched scream.

Logan turned his attention in her direction. Seeing her
naked and in his bed shocked him.
“What in the hell is going on here?”
he yelled at Jennifer. The confused look on her face would have been comical
under any other circumstances.

“What are you talking about?” The tramp had the audacity to
appear insulted. “You invited me back to your room last night.” The blank look
on his face irritated the hell out of her. How dare he act like nothing
happened when he got caught in the act? Well, after the act, technically. How
insulting. “We had sex,” she added. “Quite a few times.”

“The hell we did,” he tossed back at her. “I don't know how
you managed to crawl into my bed, but you need to take your ass out of it,” he
tossed out.

He tried to think back to the events of the night before. He
remembered fighting with Brooke at the party, and leaving with Adam to head
back to the bar. He remembered some events that took place at the bar, like
Jennifer sashaying up to him at the bar and talking to him. It didn't take him
long to realize that she was hitting on him. He remembered buying her a drink,
and slamming back quite a few of his own.

He'd gone on about how women were bitches and she listened,
agreeing with him. “Not all women,” she'd purred. “Some women simply have no
clue how to appreciate a guy like you, Logan.” He was pissed about the argument
he'd had with Brooke. He didn't understand why she'd made a huge deal out of
him having some drinks with his buddy. And it had escalated into a fight.
Jennifer had talked him into leaving the bar and going back to his place.

He could remember bits and pieces of how they'd gotten back
to his dorm room. He had no idea where Adam was. He remembered stumbling onto
the bed, and when she began taking off his clothes, he told her no, that she
needed to stop. But she didn't. She whispered in his ear about how much he was
going to love the things she was going to do to him. After she'd taken his
clothes off, she stripped naked and got into bed with him, stroking him until
he was rock hard, and touching herself while she did, getting totally into it.

He remembered that she reached into her purse and pulled out
a condom and slid it down the length of his erection. Then she straddled him,
and took him inside her. She kissed him, and he kissed her back. He remembered
her riding him hard, and he'd let her, simply because she was there and had
offered herself to him. He'd been too drunk to think rationally.

The realization of what had happened, of what he'd done,
came to him in a sudden, intensely agonizing, nauseating moment. Brooke could
see the recognition in his eyes. It was written all over his face.

He jumped up from the bed and reached out for her. “Brooke,”
he said, almost like a plea. She pulled away from him. The rage was too much
for her to control. She landed another blow, to the side of his head again.

“What in the hell are you trying to do, bludgeon me? Stop it
right now, Brooke!”

“Bludgeoning you would be too merciful, you bastard!”

She drew back and hit him again, with every ounce of
strength she had in her. The blow connected with his face, and she heard the
cracking noise as his head snapped back. It echoed loudly in her ears. Blood,
thick and bright red, gushed from his nose. He immediately brought his hands up
to cover it. It oozed from between his fingers. His head exploded with pain.
Logan thought for a second that he would pass out.

“Are you
crazy?
” he yelled. “You broke my fucking
nose!” he swore. Anger replaced the pain that clouded his eyes. Under any other
circumstances, that would have been enough of a warning for her. But not at
that moment. Brooke wasn't in the frame of mind to be reasonable. In fact, she
did feel like she was going a little bit crazy.