Caught Up in the Touch: Sweet Home Alabama

by Trentham, Laura

  He squeezed her hip. “What happened here?”

  Her eyes popped open. The tickle of his fingertips over her scars shot accelerant into her heart the same time her body stiffened like she’d been cast in plaster.

  She knocked his hand away and turned to her back, grabbing fistfuls of blue comforter and pulling it her chin. “It’s nothing.”

  He propped his head on his elbow, his biceps rippling. His hair was tousled and the stubble along his jaw was darker, emphasizing his sensuous mouth. His eyes though had sharpened as he looked down at her. “It’s obviously something by the way you just reacted.”

  Darn it, she’d made it worse. It would be best to tell a half-truth as she always had. She opened her mouth, but no words came. The unthinkable happened. Tears gathered.

  Slowly, he lifted his hand to her face, his thumb caressing her cheekbone. No way could she beat the annoying suckers back with him touching her as if her emotional baggage was a mere nuisance that didn’t need a dozen pack mules to carry.

  “Did someone hurt you, Jessie?” The aggression in his voice belied his tender touch.

  “No one hurt me.” In negotiations, misdirection came easily, but lying naked in Logan’s bed, her words felt more lie than truth.

  She sat up, searching for balance after the sudden emotional shift from utter contentment to prickly defensiveness. Clutching the comforter to her chin with one hand, she shimmed her hips toward the edge of the bed. How far was Lilliana’s? Four miles? Five? A picture flashed of her making a run for it with the bulky comforter wrapped around her like a toga. Nope, Logan was her only way out.

  “I see you eyeing the door.” He grabbed her wrist, but she didn’t stop her scooch toward freedom. “What’s the problem?”

  “Look, this was fun, but I never intended to sleep over. I need to . . .” Her mind snagged. It’s not like she had a real job or a single responsibility.

  “Wash your hair?” A thread of humor lilted his question.

  Welcome anger came over her. Her scars represented the culmination of years of pain and shame. If he joked his way through the emotional fragments of her past, she wouldn’t be able to bear it.

  She twisted her hand out of his grasp and stood up, pulling the thick comforter with her. Logan was left with a thin white sheet riding low on his hips. Even with pillow creases on the side of his face, he was ridiculously sexy, exuding the confidence of an underwear model—without even needing the underwear.

  “You won’t understand. I mean, look at you.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  His incredulous question threw tinder on her anger. “You’re good at everything. Physically, you’re freaking perfect. In case you were wondering, that was the best sex I’ve ever had, so congratulations.” She spit the last word out with as much sarcasm as possible.

  “Damn girl, you don’t have to sound so pissed off about it.” A slight smile played at his lips.

  “You don’t get it,” she muttered.

  “You’re not even giving me the chance to get it.”

  She grabbed her skirt and shirt off the floor. No telling where her bra was. Balancing awkwardly, she pulled on her shirt and buttoned it while trying to keep herself covered with the comforter. The effort was silly considering what had transpired, but any sort of inherent confidence she’d gained in his arms deserted her in the morning light of his bedroom.

  He yanked his jeans up from the other side of the bed, all amusement gone. “Was last night just about sex or are you running away because I’m getting too close to the heart of you?”

  With the comforter latched under her chin like a shield, she shimmed on her skirt, avoiding his gaze. “Of course, it was just about sex. Where are you expecting this to go? I’ll have to eventually find a real job.”

  “Will you?” He grabbed a clean T-shirt out of a drawer and pulled it over his head.

  “I can’t afford not to.” Too much of her sense of self-worth came from performing well at her job. The few hours a week at Adaline’s wasn’t good enough. But the thought of leaving Falcon before whatever was happening between them played out left a cannonball-sized hole in her gut and confusion ricocheting through the empty space.

  She grabbed her shoes and ran down the hall, hitting her funny bone on the banister. A shoe dropped from her numb hand to tumble down a few stairs. She kept running like Cinderella—if Cinderella had been an emotional cripple with Prince Charming’s come running down the inside of her thigh.

  Holding her dropped shoe, he caught her on the front porch, a few feet from where they’d had sex. She willed herself not to look over. Not that she expected elves to have erected a plaque to commemorate the event.

  He tossed her the shoe but didn’t say a word, his eyes crinkled almost shut and his mouth tight. He looked pissed. He had a right to be, but unraveling the complexities of how things had changed in a few short minutes was beyond her.

  * * *

  Barefoot, Logan stamped down the steps and gestured to his truck, not bothering to open her door this time. He turned the key roughly and pumped the gas, the engine revving. She yanked at the passenger door twice before it flew open. She barely had the door shut before he threw the truck into reverse. The space between them was emptier and vaster than the few feet of worn leather separating them.

  He scrolled through all his interactions with her, from the first afternoon at Adaline’s until this morning. Her stalwart support meant more to him than she’d ever know. The sex had put his imagination to shame. He’d expected to have to wrest her passion free from her iron control. Instead, the dirty talk coming from her sweet mouth had driven him half-wild.

  A host of emotions hovered around him like a cloud of no-see-ums, impossible to escape. Hurt, anger, confusion chief among them.

  Trees blurred in his periphery. His foot eased off the accelerator as he took a deep breath.

  “Wait, what about my car?”

  He’d driven her back to Lilliana’s on autopilot. He short-stopped on the circular drive in front of Lillian’s porch. “Sorry. I can—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get a lift from Lilliana later.” Pushing open the truck door, she glanced over her shoulder, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. With her purse and shoes clutched to her chest, she hopped down and ran toward the steps. Her obvious distress made him feel raw and wounded.

  He couldn’t leave like this. Cutting the truck off, he slid out and slammed his door shut. Like a wild animal hearing the crack of a rifle, she changed direction, heading for the magnolia tree at the side of the house. She ducked out of sight under the branches. He followed, rain-wet grass clinging and itchy on his bare feet. It would serve him right to step smack-dab in the middle of an anthill.

  “Dammit Jessie, where’d you go?” He parted branches, raindrops pelting him from the glossy, cupped leaves. Taking a deep breath, he tried to soften his tone, but his voice still sounded too harsh. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She stepped out, next to a closed bloom, droplets glimmering on the creamy white petals. Rolling her eyes, she said, “I’m not scared of you.”

  “Not of me, but of us?”

  Her face blanked of emotion, and he wanted to taunt or shake or kiss some feeling back into her—even anger was better than indifference. Instead, he rubbed his nape with one hand and ran the other through his hair so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch her.

  “You don’t think I understand how you’re feeling?”

  “No, I don’t,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “Let’s see . . . this thing between us is moving too fast. It’s too intense. You’re terrified I’ll hurt you. Everything you thought you knew about where you belong and where your life was headed, has been shot to hell and back.” He ticked the points off on his fingers. “Am I close?”

  “You’re talking crazy.” The quaver in her voice ruined her attempt at sounding unaffected.

  He gave in to temptation and cupped her neck, running hi
s thumb along her lips and dropping his forehead to hers. He waited for her to shove him away, and when she didn’t, he stepped blind and fearful onto a foreign path. “You don’t think I’m right there with you? My life was flipped on its ass yesterday, but you stuck right there with me. Last night was not just about sex for me.” He swallowed hard and stepped off the emotional ledge. “The way I feel about you scares the hell out of me.”

  “Logan.” She breathed his name before pressing her face into his neck, her purse and shoes still between them.

  “You don’t have to give me all your secrets right now, darlin’, but when you do, I’ll handle them with care. I promise.”

  She nodded, her lips moving against his skin in a pseudo-caress that sent a shiver down his spine to between his legs.

  “I need some time to think about you and this and . . . everything.” Her voice was muffled against his neck.

  He wanted to say “No,” afraid she’d decide the wisest, easiest course of action would be to hightail it back to Richmond. Pulling away, he stared into her eyes. Something painful lurked inside of her, and he had a feeling it was tied to the patterned scars on her hip. If she wasn’t ready to tell him, he’d trust in her like she’d trusted in his innocence.

  “Sure thing. But stick around, okay? And call me later?”

  “I still don’t have a phone.”

  “Borrow Lilliana’s. Call me.”

  She nodded. Before he could give in to the impulse to beg, he retreated to his truck and drove away, his gaze on the rearview mirror until she was out of sight.

  17

  Fine. We had sex. Now will you stop fishing?” Jessica asked shortly.

  Lilliana pumped the brakes hard and looked over with her mouth gaping.

  “You’re going to catch flies like that.” Jessica repeated one of her ma-maw’s favorite sayings and turned toward the passenger window before she allowed a small smile.

  “I knew it,” Lilliana whispered.

  Adaline’s came into view, and her Audi was the only car in the lot. Not that she expected to see Logan’s truck this early, but the throb of disappointment surprised her. Lilliana pulled in next to her car and flicked the doors to locked. Jessica unsuccessfully tried the handle.

  Lilliana twisted in her seat. “Not until you give me some dirt.”

  Jessica huffed with a combination of amusement and annoyance. While she generally guarded her private life like a Doberman, she trusted Lilliana. It was a startling realization.

  “It was as you might expect.” A shadow of the passion of their encounter had her squirming. “Freaking incredible. His chest is phenomenal and his abs are to die for and my God, his—”

  Lilliana “la-la-la-ed” and stuck her fingers in her ears. “I don’t want specifics about Logan’s you-know-what. Are you in love? Are you going to move to Falcon?”

  The questions shocked Jessica into silence. One bout of mind-blowing sex—well, technically two—didn’t have anything to do with love or building a real, lasting relationship. Yet it hadn’t just been sex for her either. Her heart constricted, then shot into overdrive.

  Jessica pulled in a shuddery breath. “Logan and I barely know each other.”

  Even as she said the words, she knew them to be false. They hadn’t known each other for long, but she knew Logan Wilde was honorable and loyal. She knew his fears and demons and understood his struggles, because they were so similar to her own.

  But their lives were messy. Logan had the steroid accusations hanging over him while she had secrets—the truth behind her scars and Logan’s father’s manipulation. It was the worst possible time to think about a relationship.

  “I’m not suggesting you elope, but you’re at a crossroads. Just wondering if you’re going to give Logan—and Falcon—a chance.”

  Jessica clutched her knees, afraid Lilliana would press for more than she was willing to admit. “I like Logan. He’s been really nice to me.”

  “You deserve someone who’s really nice to you,” Lilliana said decisively. Her dark, soulful eyes were serious and sincere, but mischievousness lilted in her voice as she continued. “But if Logan is ever an asshole, you let me know, and I’ll gig him like a poor old bullfrog.”

  A small laugh helped push Jessica’s uncertainty about her future to the side. Logan had agreed to give her time, and she would spend it making a pros and cons list about taking their relationship further. That always clarified matters for her. “What about you? Any likely prospects in Falcon? What about stirring things up with Alec Grayson?”

  “That is a road I don’t want to travel again.” Lilliana slumped back in the seat and picked at a cuticle. “But I’m not going lie, it has been a depressingly long time since I’ve been laid.”

  “How long?”

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten what a man’s you-know-what looks like, much less what to do with it. Even if a casual hook-up was my style—which it isn’t—Aunt Esmerelda and the entirety of the Falcon First Baptist choir would know all about it by Sunday church. Anyway, the last thing I need is a relationship to manage on top of the house. What viable option does that leave?”

  “A vibrator?”

  A fit of laughter overtook them. Lilliana unlocked the doors, and Jessica, still giggling, slid out and dug through her purse for her keys.

  From Adaline’s she drove downtown and parked at one end of Main Street. She strolled toward the library. Marlene stood in the open door of her salon on the other side of the street and waved like a beauty queen. “Jessica! Your hair is looking fabulous.”

  Jessica ruffled the waves on top, finally beginning to own her new look. “Thank you for the cut and color.”

  “Come on back when you need a trim.” Marlene disappeared into her domain of hairspray and gossip.

  Farther down the street, Jessica stopped in front of Wilson’s Antiques. A beautiful mahogany sink-stand sat a few feet back from the cluttered display at the window. She cupped her hands around her eyes and pressed them against the glass to get a better look. It would be the perfect start for the remodel of the fifties-style bathroom at Lilliana’s.

  A blond-haired man popped from behind a dresser, screwdriver in hand. Their gazes met, and she pulled back, startled. It was the blond man from the alley. The bell over the door tinkled.

  Jeremy nodded a greeting and scuffed a black motorcycle boot along a weed-filled crack in the sidewalk. “How’s our man holding up?”

  Our man. She almost popped out with a defensive “How would I know?” Instead, she said, “He wants to help Scott and Hunter, but doesn’t know how. Business is down at Adaline’s, and his past is being dredged up.”

  His icy blue eyes were too old for his body. “Yep, I feel him. Sometimes I want to chuck it all and move somewhere else. Somewhere no one knows me. I’m sure Logan’s felt like that more than once lately.”

  The thought of Logan not in Falcon went against the laws of nature, disrupting gravity and making her feel suddenly lightheaded and nervous. “What keeps you here?”

  Jeremy pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and shook one out, but only twirled it in his fingers. “People like Logan. Robbie Dalton. Old Henry.” He thumbed behind him toward the store. “You need people who understand where you came from but can see your future and not just your past.”

  The wisdom of his words burrowed into her chest. Something had fundamentally shifted in her life. She couldn’t pinpoint what, but a portion of her confusion and fear eased. “You’re pretty smart, Jeremy. Except you should give those up.”

  He held the cigarette up at eyelevel and smiled. “I don’t smoke them anymore, but I can’t bring myself to throw them out.”

  A man from inside the store called his name. He tipped his chin and slipped back inside the antique store. Jessica turned around and looked up and down Main Street, her blinders removed. She had been in danger of idealizing Falcon. Life here wasn’t perfect, but did that make the town less or more appealing?

&nbs
p; Stephanie Larkin, Scott’s mother, clip-clopped toward her in sling-back heels and big, stylish sunglasses. Jessica tensed, but Mrs. Larkin tossed the door open to the store next door. Spontaneously, Jessica trailed her into the boutique.

  * * *

  Logan ambled toward the library, running his fingers along a crack in the bricks. The crack had been there since Logan could remember, no wider or longer. He made eye contact with the mother of one of his now-former players, but she turned away without acknowledging his wave.

  He fisted his hand and shoved it into the front pocket of his jeans. Logan was less than six feet away when he noticed Ben Larkin standing in the shadows of a column at the entrance to the bank. Ben didn’t utter a word, but his steely gaze promised retaliation for Logan’s supposed crime against his son.

  Denials were useless, so Logan kept his head down and lengthened his stride. His phone buzzed before he made it to the front steps of the library. Assuming it was Jessica keeping her promise, he answered in record time. “Thank God you called.”

  A beat of silence before a male voice said, “I wasn’t expecting such an enthusiastic response.”

  Logan pulled the phone away to check the screen and mouthed a silent curse. Richmond, VA. “My apologies, Mr. Montgomery. Thought you were someone else.”

  “My daughter, perhaps?”

  “No, my preacher,” Logan said dryly. “Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

  A chuff came from the other end. “Jessica hasn’t been returning my emails, and I have no way to get ahold of her. Thought I’d give you a shot. Work is piling up on her desk.”

  “I thought she quit.”

  “More like a leave of absence.”

  Logan stomach swooped. Was she using her leave of absence as leverage to get what she wanted from her father? Honestly, it was a smart move to force his hand for the promotion she deserved. He picked at the paint-peeled rail at the front of the library. “What if she doesn’t want to go back to Montgomery Industries?”