by Melissa West
That was a lie. Logan wasn’t sorry for the kiss. He was too selfish to be sorry for it. But he was sorry he’d hurt her.
Silence found them, their eyes still locked as each of their hearts pounded in each of their chests.
“God, say something,” Logan said, desperate for her to relieve the silence—the throbbing in his head and heart.
Then the door to the basement opened and Jack stood there, staring between them. “Everything okay? I heard shouting.”
“Yeah, just coming back up,” Savannah said slowly. She turned away, following after her brother, but she stopped at the door, her hand tapping against the wood. It was then that Logan realized she was shaking.
“There’s a difference between guilt and regret. And I don’t regret it. Maybe I should, but I don’t. I’m not sorry. I wasn’t then, and I’m not now.” She propped the door open with a loose brick from the floor and then disappeared up the stairs, leaving Logan alone once more.
Chapter Nine
Savannah woke at four-thirty the next morning to a wail that cut straight through her skull, refusing to be ignored. Jumping up, she grabbed the bat she kept beside her bed and rubbed her eyes, poised to hit someone or something if it came into her room. That was, if she could keep from falling over.
She’d spent all night tossing and turning, replaying Logan’s words. A part of her wanted to go to him and hug him close, tell him that she understood. The guilt had a way of hanging around, showing up at the worst moments, reminding her that she might not regret kissing Logan, but she’d burn all the same. He was Will’s best friend. Will, who had died mere weeks before that kiss. Thinking through it in that way always cemented her guilt. Still, if it was a mistake, it was their mistake, not just his. They both loved Will, but that didn’t mean they should forever live their lives in memory of him. But knowing the right way to feel and actually feeling that way were not the same things.
The wailing continued, and Savannah forced her brain to focus enough to pinpoint the source of the noise. A smoke alarm.
No, no, no! You are not burning down on me, bed-and-breakfast. I haven’t fixed you yet!
Tossing open her door, she started out into the hall, prepared to tell the fire it could go to hell, but there was no smoke. No raging flames. No signs at all that the bed-and-breakfast was indeed on fire. Hmm.
Easing down the stairs, she found the smoke alarm in the common room blaring like a baby who couldn’t reach his pacifier. Searching the room, she grabbed a chair and placed it under the alarm, then stood on it to press the reset button, feeling pretty darn pleased with herself, until nothing happened. She pressed it again, held it down, counted to five, then did it all over again, but the freaking thing refused to stop.
“Ugh! Shut up!”
“When you’re done screaming at it, can you turn it off?”
Savannah spun to see Logan a few feet away from her, his hair sticking out in random directions, a lazy grin on his face. Her gaze drifted from his hair down to his bare chest, over the simple black cross tattooed on his left pectoral muscle, to his low-hanging flannel pajama pants and how very clear it was that he wore nothing else beneath them. She swallowed, suddenly not at all concerned with the alarm or its refusal to do what she asked.
“Anna? The alarm?”
“What? Oh—right. I can’t turn it off. It won’t listen to me.”
A smile played at his lips as he neared. “Maybe that’s because you’re wearing a Mickey Mouse T-shirt.” He leaned in closer and thumbed the hem of her nightshirt, his fingertips grazing her thigh. And holy shitake mushroom. Warmth spread from that tiny point of contact, up her leg, settling in her stomach, her breathing suddenly very uneven. “And no pants. To be honest, I’m having a hard time focusing, too.”
“Funny,” she said, attempting to control her voice—and her out-of-control heart—but a blush crept across her cheeks all the same. She’d been so eager to get the wailing to end, she didn’t stop to think about what—or how little—she wore. Her eyes dropped to her bare legs, the T-shirt barely covering her lower goods. So not the kind of thing she should be sporting around Logan, especially with all the extra tingles and inappropriate thoughts running around in her brain.
“Hit the reset button.”
Savannah placed her hands on her hips, which caused the shirt to hitch up. Logan’s gaze dropped. “Right, because I’m a complete idiot and didn’t think to hit the reset. Try again.”
The grin spread. “All right. Then how about this.” He swept her into his arms, one hand dangerously close to her breast, the other griping her thighs, her body pressed firmly against his rock-hard pectoral muscles. Forget the alarm. Forget the B and B. Forget everything. She’d just as soon stay right there, cradled in his strong arms. Her already heated insides burst into flames, desire tempting logic, until it was all she could do not to lean toward him—see if he’d take the prompt and kiss her.
Instead, he set her down beside the chair and took her place. He hit the reset, which did nothing at all, so ha! Then without another thought, he slid open the battery compartment, popped out the battery, and tossed it to Savannah. The wailing ceased. “Done. Anything else?” Stepping down from the chair, he stood a foot and a half, at most, away from her. A soapy, woodsy, too-sexy-for-anything-good-to-come-of-it smell hit her nose, and she wondered if he showered at night or in the morning. Or did he do both? Suddenly, she pictured him in the shower, soapy and—
Pull yourself together, woman.
Her eyes lifted to find Logan watching her, his hair as messy as ever. She ached to run her hands through the tangled locks, to smooth them back into place, then allow her hands to slip down his back and…
“Savannah?”
“What? Oh. No, that’s all.” Flustered, she turned away from him, thoughts of their basement encounter still fresh in her mind. Was it possible that Logan still felt more for her than he let on? Maybe he had then, but now? Surely not, but then why did he get so worked up when he talked about the kiss? Why did it sound like he’d regretted more about that day than just their betrayal of Will?
“Okay. See you in the morning.”
“Thanks. Good night.” She placed the battery on the front desk and started for the kitchen, but the sound of her name had her looking up. “Hm?”
“You aren’t going back to sleep?”
“I wasn’t sleeping so well to begin with. Thought I’d make some coffee.”
He bit his lip and stared at her. Could he sense why she hadn’t slept? Did he have the same struggle? She studied his features, trying to find something deeper within them, but he wasn’t giving anything away.
“Care for company?”
“If you stay, I’ll have to go put on clothes.”
“How about we both agree to not stare at how little the other is wearing?”
“Impossible. Look at you,” she said as she continued on into the kitchen. “But join me if you like. You’re my only paying customer. Might as well keep you happy.”
He walked close behind her, warmth radiating off him, and Savannah thought of what it would be like to be pulled into those defined arms of his, pressed up against the wall, all thought gone but the passion between them. But maybe that passion was just in her. He’d made it very clear he was sorry they’d kissed in the first place, and though a part of her was angry at him, for that and the way he left her all those years ago, she understood. How could she not?
“Sit,” he ordered, as he pulled two mugs down from the cabinet and began making coffee. “Cream no sugar?”
“How did you know?”
“I pay attention.”
Her heart throbbed and she pushed away a smile. She wondered what would have happened between them if he hadn’t left. Would they have been able to put Will behind them and be happy? Of course, that assumed he wanted her at all, and clearly he didn’t, right? He’d left.
Logan went to work making her coffee, then poured a black cup for himself and sat beside her on
one of the barstools. She wanted to ask why he’d left and what happened after. She knew he’d enlisted for five years, so he couldn’t have stayed either way. Still, she wondered what would have happened if they’d said good-bye. Would they have written each other? Would he have come back to see her? Would he eventually have felt for her what she felt for him? Those weren’t easy questions and their answers would likely cause her more pain, so she settled on something easier.
“Do you like real estate?”
He stopped mid way to sipping his coffee and cocked a brow at her. “What?”
“Aren’t you in real estate?”
“Ah, that.” He set down the cup, holding it between both hands, seemingly deep in thought. “It’s not what I would have done.”
“What do you mean? You chose the job right?”
“In a way.”
Savannah watched his face, searching his expression for what he might mean, but again, he revealed nothing. “Did you get your degree?”
“I did. Double major in management and economics.”
She smiled. “Always in love with numbers.”
“They come easy to me,” he said with a shrug.
“So if you wouldn’t have picked real estate, then why did you go into that field?”
He stared out into the kitchen. “Want some eggs?” Slipping from the stool, he went to the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs, and then bread and butter to make toast.
“Are you refusing to answer my question, Logan Park?”
He leveled his gaze on hers. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Add that to the refuse to answer list.”
“That’s hardly fair.”
He laughed. “I never claimed to be fair.”
Huffing, Savannah went around the island and reached across him for the bread. Her arm gently grazed his bare skin, sending a jolt through her that nearly caused her to drop the slice. Her eyes lifted to see if he’d felt it, too, but he was focused on her arm, still brushing his stomach, and his breathing was uneven.
“I’m sorry.” The words were barely a whisper, but as their eyes locked, she knew she wasn’t sorry at all. She wanted to be near him, wanted to see his face change when they touched. It awoke her heart in the best and worst ways. They shouldn’t be doing this. Then or now. So, why couldn’t she stop? Why couldn’t she just be good?
The people of Maple respected the Hale name, and here she was risking her family’s reputation, over and over again, subjecting herself to more gossip. All for a man who’d never once said he cared for her at all. Who hadn’t even liked her until Will’s death.
Stepping away so she could think more clearly, she popped the bread into the toaster and turned to him, crossing her arms. His gaze went immediately to her legs and she followed his stare down to see her shirt had ridden up, exposing the bottoms of her black panties. Her face lit with heat as she tugged the shirt back into place, and Logan became very focused on the eggs. She couldn’t be sure if he cared for her, but his body definitely reacted around her. Still, wanting wasn’t the same as caring.
Desperate to ease the tension, she went back to their conversation. She would try the friend thing—or at least not enemies. “So if not real estate, then what did you want to do?”
“I don’t know.”
Savannah watched in awe as he folded the eggs over and over, scrambling them into fluffy perfection. She’d never been able to cook eggs without scorching them, but Logan made it seem easy. He made a lot of things seem easy.
“I used to say I wanted to own my own business,” he said. “That was the logic behind the management major. I thought it’d help me learn the basics.”
“And what about economics?”
He went still again, lifted his gaze to the wall, then shrugged and went back to work on the eggs. “Just something I needed to add on.”
Savannah sensed a deeper story there, but she had too many questions to focus on silly stuff like majors. “Did you want to move back here after you left the army?”
A sarcastic laugh slipped from his lips. “With my dad around? No thanks.”
Savannah tried not to feel the burn of his words. She wanted to tell him that his father wasn’t the only one in Maple that might want him home, that plenty of people cared about him, but she’d left, too. How could she argue with him wanting to get away from a man like his father when she’d left two amazing parents behind?
“Right. Logan…”
“I’m trying,” he said. “But it’s hard to answer questions about what brought me to this point in my life. I second guess things all the time, or wish I’d made different decisions.” His deep green eyes held hers. “I feel regrets that I wonder if I’ll ever overcome. But this is where I am now, and there’s nothing that can change that. Some things can’t be undone—or redone. Can they?”
She stared at him. Was he asking what she thought he was asking?
But before she could answer, the sound of someone walking into the kitchen made them both glance over. “Who’s cooking?” Jack asked, taking a seat on one of barstools. Then he eyed each of them. “Why are you both half naked?”
Savannah fumbled with the toast, burning her fingertips as she dropped the slice onto a plate, which Jack immediately grabbed. He took a giant bite of toast before placing it back down.
“Hey! I took a hit for that one,” she said, sucking her singed thumb, refusing to look at Logan, though she could feel his gaze on her. “Didn’t you hear the smoke alarm this morning?”
“Nah. I sleep like a baby.” Jack stole the toast again and took another bite, earning a death glare from his sister.
“Where’s Leigh?” she asked, grabbing the now-cooled toast before he could scarf down the rest.
Jack looked at her. “Do I have ‘Leigh’s assistant’ tattooed on my forehead? I don’t know. Call her. She’s probably in town again. I don’t know why you keep sending her to the hardware store. She has no clue what she’s doing.”
Savannah opened her mouth to say that she hadn’t sent Leigh anywhere, but closed it. Leigh had been spending a lot of time at Jim’s Hardware lately, and the blonde triplets had said Jim was secretly dating someone in town. Maybe… No, Jack would kill Jim if he went after Leigh. Best friends didn’t go after little sisters. Did they? But Jack wouldn’t be here much longer, so…
“Hey, when do you have to be back?” she asked him. If Leigh was dating Jim then maybe she’d admit it to Savannah once Jack left town.
“Back where?”
“It’s late spring. Shouldn’t you be playing?”
Jack looked away, and Savannah watched him take a fresh slice of toast from her plate, throw on some of the eggs Logan had placed beside the toast, and fold it all up into a makeshift sandwich. “I’m on bereavement leave for two weeks.”
“And it’s been nearly two weeks.”
He shrugged.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Leave it.”
“Jack?”
“I’m heading to the shower. We’re supposed to be at the town meeting at ten.”
Ah, the town meeting. They were supposed to be only once a month, but with the spring festival coming up, an extra meeting had been added. Or so they said. Savannah still thought this was all just a way to ask her in public, with witnesses, what the Hales planned to do with the B and B.
Jack stood up to leave, and Savannah reached out to stop him, eager to ask more questions about why he was here instead of playing, when Logan shook his head slightly.
What was going on?
Tucking away her concern, she dug into what was left of her eggs—sans toast, thanks to her brother—curious if the bed-and-breakfast had always been this full of secrets.
With Jane Hale running it, likely not.
...
Logan set out down the sidewalk on Main Street, his eyes covered by his shades so no one could see him taking stock of his old town. He passed Maple’s Bakery and thought of the baseball t
eam raiding it after a local win, of the cupcakes handed out for all the players, and of Will giving his to Savannah instead.
What would his friend say if he could see him now—hanging all over Savannah, desperate for any bit of attention she would throw at him. Would Will support his friend or would he hate him? Logan tried to think how he would feel if the situation were reversed and thought he’d want Savannah to be happy. But happy with his best friend? Maybe. Maybe not…
“Logan?”
He turned to find Mrs. Cooke walking out of the bakery, her face etched with worry. “Are you okay, honey?”
He shook himself from his thoughts before they ruined his mood. “Um, yes ma’am. Is there something I can do for you?”
She walked toward him. “You know, forgive me for saying this, but I always thought you and Savannah would make a fine pair. Your personalities are so alike.”
Logan laughed. “You mean we’re both stubborn.”
Mrs. Cooke laughed as well. “Perhaps. She’s a sweet girl, my Savannah. I’d sure like to see her with a good man. I think Will wanted that for her, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah, it was just something he said before you boys left for Afghanistan. He’d come into the kitchen at the B and B to pick up some food his mama had ordered, and I asked—probably like everybody else in town—if he planned to propose to Savannah before he left. He looked out the back window and said, ‘No. Savannah should marry the guy who has her heart. That ain’t me.’ I thought he was just feeling off because he was leaving, but now I wonder if maybe he saw something before the rest of us.”
Logan’s mouth went slack, his mind churning. He thought of Will finding the photo Logan kept of Savannah, the argument they’d gotten into, and the words he said—I thought it was just her. Was it possible Savannah had feelings for him even before Will died, and Will knew?