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  • Home > Samantha Young > On Dublin Street Series > Moonlight on Nightingale Way (Page 3)     
    Moonlight on Nightingale Way(On Dublin Street #6)(3) by Samantha Young
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    I glared at Logan’s door.

    It wasn’t as though I actually wanted anything to do with the man. Airing my complaints to him wasn’t going to have an adverse effect on our relationship because we didn’t have a relationship and we never would.

    Logan MacLeod was going to clean up the mess he made, and I could give a damn if he thought me the most irritating woman in the world.

    Anger simmering in my blood, I hopped over the vomit, locked up, and marched to his door. I pounded on it.

    Nothing.

    I pounded harder before I could regret my decision to confront him.

    Two seconds later I heard movement inside, followed by a muffled curse. The door suddenly swung open, and there he stood in all his glory. I blinked, fighting the heat that bloomed on my cheeks, but failed. Logan MacLeod had opened the door in nothing but boxer briefs, and I had never seen a man like him in real life. There was not an inch of fat on him. Just pure, hard muscle.

    Cut. My friend Chloe would say he was cut.

    Logan rubbed a hand over his short hair, drawing my attention from his six-pack to his sleep-roughened face. “It’s Sunday fucking morning,” he said, squinting at me. “If you’re going to speak, speak.”

    The heat in my cheeks flared hotter. Despite my blushing, I mustered on. “I am well aware it is Sunday morning,” I said in my quiet voice, wishing for once that I’d inherited my mother’s authoritative one. “After working into the wee hours, I was rudely awoken at dawn by your inconsiderately loud antics. I then stepped out of my door and missed the pile of vomit on it by inches. I can only assume it was deposited there by either yourself or the cackling female you brought home last night.” I was shaking badly, and I didn’t know if it was from anxiety or anger.

    No one had upset me like this in a very long time.

    “Fuck.” He dragged his hand down his face and then peered past me. “It was…” He frowned. “My friend.”

    I rolled my eyes, realizing he couldn’t remember his one-night stand’s name.

    “I meant to come out and clean it up first thing. Sorry. I’ll do it now.”

    His apology deflated me somewhat. I stared dumbly at him.

    He blinked sleepily, looking much too attractive for someone who was just awake. “Is there anything else?”

    “No. I appreciate you cleaning it.” I turned away and had put only one foot on the stairs when he stopped me.

    “You don’t have to be so antagonistic, you know. You should consider removing that stick from your tiny arse.”

    And just like that I was enraged all over again. I stopped and looked at him over my shoulder. “Excuse me?” I wasn’t quite sure I’d even heard right.

    “You talk down to me. And there’s that pinchy-mouthed look you give me instead of a smile every time you pass me in the hall.”

    Pinchy-mouthed? I sniffed at the insult and turned to leave again, not deigning to give him a response.

    “And that,” he called out to me as I descended the stairs. “That haughty little sniff is extremely fucking annoying.”

    I halted, shocked.

    Because it suddenly occurred to me that I wasn’t my usual pile of anxiety over the fact that this person found me wanting. No. Instead triumph coursed through me that he was just as aggravated by me as I was by him.

    I looked up to find him standing out on the landing scowling down at me.

    Despite my red cheeks, I managed an irritatingly haughty swish of my hair over my shoulder and snapped out, “Good.”

    CHAPTER 2

    There was no possible way I could manage to hide my distaste and I didn’t even want to. This was in response to Chloe’s, “He sounds hot.”

    She was referring to Logan MacLeod. I’d just spent the last ten minutes complaining about his antics and what he’d said to me that morning to my friends Chloe, Aidan, and Aidan’s fiancée, Juno. How Chloe managed to pick “hot” out of all I’d just said, I had no clue.

    “Oh, please.” Chloe huffed at my expression. “You secretly think he’s hot.”

    “I think he’s appalling,” I said, appalled.

    “Well, I’m proud of you for sticking up for yourself,” Aidan said, and Juno curled deeper into his side on their sofa.

    I’d met Aidan eleven years ago, during our first semester at the University of Edinburgh. He, more than anyone, knew what a big deal it was for me to speak up for myself, and he knew exactly why. Chloe was my roommate in first year, and the three of us had grown close during our four years at Edinburgh. A bit of a chatterbox, flirtatious, and energetic, Chloe was our opposite, but together we worked. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Chloe, Aidan would never have met Juno.

    Juno was a postgrad student from Canada. She was here working on some engineering… thing… that I still didn’t understand and had met Chloe on a night out. During one of her moments of utter perceptiveness, Chloe recognized something in Juno that she thought would appeal to Aidan. She introduced the fresh-faced, shy, exceptionally intelligent Canadian to Aidan, and it was pretty much love at first sight. They’d been together for five years and were planning to marry when Juno finished her postgrad. For now they were settled happily into the somewhat swanky Stockbridge flat, courtesy of Aidan’s income as a professional rugby player.

    I was the single one among us, as Chloe was also engaged. Her fiancé, Ed, worked in energy efficiency. He’d spent the last six months in Sweden working on developing some brilliant new technology that would help reduce energy costs in everyday housing.

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