by Jenna Kernan
Paige said her goodbyes and headed back inside as Logan walked the sheriff to his vehicle parked on the road.
“What will you do now?” asked Trace.
“I’m going to ask Paige to marry me.”
The sheriff’s brows lifted. “Well, best of luck with that. You two obviously make a good team.”
Logan smiled. He sure hoped so. Trace extended his uninjured arm and the two shook hands.
“You ever think about running for office?” asked Trace.
“Me? What kind?” For a terrible moment he thought the sheriff was about to suggest he take over his brother’s spot on the village council. He couldn’t. Never.
“I think you’d be a strong candidate for sheriff of Onutake County.”
Logan gaped. It took him a moment to recover. The sheriff chuckled and then slapped him on the arm.
“Think about it. You’d have my vote.” Trace turned to go.
Axel Trace climbed behind the wheel and drove off.
Sheriff? Logan shook his head. It seemed impossible. But was it?
Logan wondered what his future held. He had plans to adopt the Sullivan children and marry the mother of his child. If she’d have him, they could have more children. Lots more.
The world seemed full of possibilities. But they all hinged on whether Paige would give them a second chance.
He’d proven he could and would fight for her. He’d risked everything to save her. But that didn’t mean she would marry him. She’d loved him once and he’d forgotten her. That had hurt her as much as his leaving her against her wishes. He’d made mistakes. But he was not that rash young man any longer. He was not the boy she had fallen in love with, either. And right now he was not sure if that was good or bad.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sunday, after church, Paige and her mother went shopping for turkey and fixings. This Thursday was Thanksgiving and they would have a full house. Logan had driven to Plattsville shopping mall for a very special piece of jewelry and had beaten the women home.
When they returned, Logan helped unload the bags of groceries. Mrs. Morris seemed out of sorts and Paige’s expression was grim. Mrs. Morris took over unpacking in the kitchen while he and Paige went out to retrieve the last load. Outside, he told Paige that he had a call from someone in the Justice Department. They said that Steven and Valerie’s aunt, Freda Kubr, had been accepted into witness protection.
“I sent in the paperwork for custody this morning to Child Protective Services,” said Logan.
Paige gave him a worried look. “Fingers crossed.”
“Because I’m male or because of this?” He lifted his fingers to his scar.
She lifted her hand and let her fingertips whisper over the scar.
“Both, really.”
“Do you think I’m not capable of raising them?”
She gave him that confident smile. “I can’t think of anyone better, but bureaucracy is unpredictable. I’ll be happy to help you any way I can.”
That encouragement gave him hope.
“Did you find out if you can see Connor yet?”
“I’m driving my dad down to Albany tomorrow to speak to the lawyer we hired. We’ll see if they let us visit him then.”
“Your poor dad. First your mom and now this.”
“He’s taking it hard. Connor never let on that he had money troubles.”
“Neither did my mom. She’s only just getting out from under that bankruptcy. I still don’t know why she wanted to keep that house. Well, she can’t keep it now. Did I tell you she dropped the insurance?”
He didn’t hide the stunned expression.
“What will she do?”
“Get something she can afford. Get a job, too, I hope. We had a fight about it in the car. I told her that I won’t be moving back in with her.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not good for me. I told her I’d help her when I get back on my feet, but she stormed off.”
“She’ll get over it,” he said.
Paige hoisted two of the bags and he took the rest, closing the trunk.
“Maybe. Listen, I have to help with these.”
“Dad wants me to go pick up the pies he ordered from the farm stand.”
“Oh, I want to come. Can you wait for me?”
“Paige, I’d wait for you...all day.” Had he almost said forever? He would need to be braver if he was going to get through this. Funny to have a Silver Star but not be able to summon up the courage to ask the woman he loved to be his wife.
What if she said no? Worse still, what if she laughed or sneered like her mother? Paige would never laugh.
He gave her a long look as his heart walloped against his ribs. He couldn’t lose her again.
“Logan, are you all right?”
“Hmm? Yes, why?”
“You look a little green.” She hesitated. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
He headed toward the living room where his father had settled into his chair to watch football. The children sprawled on the floor with their electronic devices, playing video games. Mrs. Morris and Paige were arguing in the kitchen. Paige appeared a few minutes later, red in the face.
“Ready?” she asked, holding her car keys and already in her coat.
He nodded and grabbed his jacket, realizing two things at once. First, they finally had a chance to be alone, and second, that the timing was terrible because of so many things, including the recent conflict with her mom. He was about to ask this woman to be his wife. Should he wait? But when would they next be alone? Logan didn’t know what to do.
In a moment they were out the door.
“Mind if we stop at Lookout Rocks?” he asked, making his decision and committing himself to his course.
She shook her head. “I could use some serenity.”
He drove them up Gunhouse Road, high above the village to the nature preserve that had a view of the entire valley. It was a beautiful spot on any day, but with the fresh layer of snow covering field and farm, it was awe inspiring.
The storm had departed, and the skies were clear blue. The air temperature was warm enough that she left her coat open as she slipped from the cab to walk through the snow to the benches set on the rocky outcropping on the crest of the hill.
“Look.” She pointed toward the dark ribbon of the river. “Is that an eagle?”
She turned to find him staring at her instead of the valley. He held his smile, but it felt tight and edged with panic.
“Are you sweating?” she asked, glancing at his forehead.
“Yes. You would be, too.”
She peered at him as if wondering what was amiss. “I would be? Why?”
“If you were about to ask the woman you love to marry you.”
“You love?”
“Ask her again, I mean, but also for the first time.”
He dropped to one knee in the snow. In his open palm was a black velvet box.
“Dr. Paige Morris, will you marry me?”
Her mouth dropped open and she blinked at him as if he had switched to a different language. Her head tilted sideways, and those blue eyes went wider and wider still.
“Oh!” was all she managed, the sound somewhere between an exhale and a groan. Then she cleared her throat. Her face had gone pink right down to her neck.
Fear and hope collided with panic and longing. He’d give her all he had if she’d just give him one more chance. And still she was speechless. Logan babbled into the ringing silence.
“I know I’m not the man I was. Everyone tells me that. But I do love you and I love Lori. You said I would be a good father. I want to be—her father, I mean.”
For a man who had struggled to speak, the words certainly were flowing now, he thought.
“You’re right, Lo
gan.”
He waited for the other shoe to fall, waited for her to push the ring box away and tell him to take her home. Waited for his dreams to shatter like glass thrown from this cliff to the rocks below them.
“You are not the man you once were,” she said. “You’re better in all the ways that matter. I’m sorry I couldn’t see that sooner.”
His gaze darted from their joined hands and up to those bewitching blue eyes. There he saw nothing but love and hope.
“Really?” he asked.
She brought their clasped hands to her heart. “Logan, what we had was nothing compared to what we might have. I want all of it. I love you and I want you and Lori and Steven and Valerie. I want us together as a family. We deserve each other and we deserve a fresh start.”
“We do.”
“I never stopped loving you,” she said. “I just was afraid that you stopped loving me.”
“The heart remembers even if the mind forgets.” He smiled up at her. “I’m sorry this took so long. I didn’t think you’d settle—”
She cut him off. “I’m not settling. I’m the luckiest woman alive. I’ve been given a second chance with you and I’m not going to miss this one. Yes, Logan, I will marry you and I’ll be grateful to you forever for the second chance.”
He opened the velvet box, presenting her with the diamond solitaire he’d chosen for her. It was a square emerald cut surrounded by smaller stones in what the jeweler called a halo-style setting. The band was platinum and had more stones flanking the central diamond. She extended her hand and he slipped the ring onto her finger.
She looped her arms around him and kissed him. He felt the love there, in her body and in that kiss. They had nearly lost each other, but had found their way back, fought to be here because this was where they were meant to be, together again.
With Lori and Steven and Valerie, they would build a family and, God willing, she would give him more children to love.
This Thanksgiving, more than any other, they had so much for which to be thankful.
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Rules in Defiance by Nichole Severn.
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Rules in Defiance
by Nichole Severn
Chapter One
An ear-piercing scream had Elliot Dunham reaching for the Glock stashed under his pillow. He threw back the sheets and pumped his legs hard, not bothering to check the time as the apartment blurred in his vision. That scream hadn’t come from his apartment, but close by. Air rushed from his lungs as adrenaline burned through his veins. There was only one name that came to mind. “Waylynn.”
Ripping open his front door, he made the sharp turn to his left in the darkness and faced his next-door neighbor’s front door. No hesitation. He aimed the heel of his foot toward the lock and kicked with everything he had. Pain shot up his leg, but the door frame splintered, thick wood slamming back against the wall. Dust flew into his beard and face as he raised the gun and moved in. One breath. Two. Nothing but the pounding of his heartbeat behind his ears registered from the shadows. He scanned the scene, his senses adjusting slowly.
He’d gone into plenty of situations like this before, but this wasn’t just another one of his clients. This was Waylynn. She mattered. He’d trained out of Blackhawk Security, offered his clients personal protection, home security and investigative services, as well as tactical training, wilderness survival and self-defense. But none of that would do Elliot a damn bit of good now. He was running off instinct. Because when it came to that woman, he couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.
Debris cut into his bare feet as he moved deeper into the dark apartment. A broken picture frame—Waylynn’s doctorate degree from Texas A&M University—crunched beneath his weight. Torn couch cushions, a broken vase, a purse that’d been dumped over the floor. Signs of an obvious struggle littered the living room, but it was the trail of dark liquid leading to the back bedroom that homed his attention to the soft sobs echoing down the hallway. Blood. “Waylynn? It’s Elliot. Are you dead?”
“Don’t come in here!” That voice. Her voice.
“I take it that’s a no.” While his gut twisted at her hint of fear, relief spread through him. She was alive. And the scream... Something horrible had happened to make her scream like that. The front door had been locked. No breeze came through the apartment from a broken window. Elliot moved down the hallway, putting the survival skills ingrained into him since he was fourteen to good use. No sign of a break-in. No movement from an intruder. He hit the bedroom and pushed the partially open door open with his free hand. The bed had been perfectly made, brightly colored throw pillows straight. Not much damage in this room. Light from beneath the closed bathroom door stretched across the beige carpeting.
And Elliot froze.
The gun faltered in his grip as water seeped from beneath the bathroom door. Not just water. Water mixed with blood. He shot forward. “I don’t care if you’re naked, Doc. I’m coming in.”
Elliot shouldered his way into the brightly lit bathroom and caught sight of his next-door neighbor huddled against the wall. Ice worked through him as he took in her soaked long blond hair, her stained oversize sweater and ripped black leggings, the terrified panic in her light blue eyes as she stared up at him, openmouthed.
And at the dead woman in the bathtub.
“Oh, I didn’t realize this was a party.” A hollow sensation carved itself into the pit of his stomach as he dropped the gun to his side. Terror etched deep lines around her mouth. Pressure built behind his sternum. Elliot set the gun on the counter and crouched in front of her, hands raised. Mildly aware he wore nothing but a pair of sweatpants, he ignored the urge to reach out for her. He’d take it slow. The woman in front of him wasn’t the one he’d moved in next door to a year ago. This wasn’t the woman who’d caught his attention with a single smile and a six-pack of beer in her hand when she’d made the effort to introduce herself to her new neighbor. This woman was scared, vulnerable. Dangerous.
“Who’s your friend?” he asked.
Her gaze wandered to the body, far too distant, far too empty. Color drained from her face. “Alexis.”
“Okay, then. First piece of the mystery solved.” Elliot framed her chin between his thumb and index finger and softened his voice. He didn’t have a whole lot of training when it came to trauma victims, but he couldn’t keep himself from touching her. “Second question. Are you the one bleeding?”
“I’m...” She turned that ice-blue gaze back to him, her voice dropping into hollow territory. “I’m not the one bleeding.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” He lowered his hand, careful of where he stepped, careful not to leave prints. He’d barged into the middle of an active crime scene. A crime scene where the most trusting woman he’d known stood in the center. There’d been a struggle, that much was clear. Things had obviously gotten out of hand, but he needed to hear the rest from her. He’d learned to trust his instincts a long time ago and something about the scene, about Waylynn’s scream a few minutes ago, didn’t sit right. He pointed to the bathtub. “Last question. Why is there a dead woman in your tub?”
“I don’t remember. It’s all a blur. I woke up facedown on the bathroom f
loor. Water and—” she shuddered, wrapping her arms tighter around her middle “—blood were spilling over the edge of the bathtub. I got up and then I saw her. I screamed.” Tears streamed down her cheeks and she wiped at them with the back of her long, thin fingers. She worked to swallow, her knees pressed against her chest, hands shaking. She blinked against the brightness of the lighting. “It’s Alexis. Alexis Jacobs. She’s my assistant at the lab.”
Genism Corporation’s lab. The largest, most profitable biotech company in Alaska. Also one of the military’s biggest prospects for genetic testing, from what he’d learned, because Dr. Waylynn Hargraves herself had put them on the map. Advancing their research by decades according to recent publicity, she’d proved the existence of some kind of highly contested gene.
Elliot scanned the scene again.
He dragged his thumb along her cheekbone, focused entirely on the size of her pupils and not the fact every hair on the back of his neck had risen at the feel of her. Only a thin line of blue remained in her irises, which meant one of two things in a room this well lit. Either Waylynn had suffered a head injury during an altercation or she’d been drugged. Or both. He scanned down the long column of her throat. And found exactly what he was looking for. A tiny pinprick on the left side of her neck. The right size for a hypodermic needle. He exhaled hard. Damn it. She’d been drugged, made to look like she’d murdered her assistant. Framed. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Anything to give them an idea of who’d done this. Because it sure as hell hadn’t been Waylynn.
She blinked against the bathroom lights as though the brightness hurt. “I... I was supposed to meet Alexis here, at my apartment. She said she’d found something alarming in the recent study I oversee at work, but she didn’t want to discuss it over the phone or at the lab. She insisted on somewhere private where we couldn’t be overheard.”
If Waylynn headed that study, anything alarming her assistant uncovered would’ve fallen back on her, threatened the project. But not if Alexis disappeared first. Whoever’d killed the assistant had known she and Waylynn were meeting and planned the perfect setup. Pinning his next-door neighbor as a murderer.