Caught Up in the Touch: Sweet Home Alabama

by Trentham, Laura

  “It’s in the trunk. I don’t have much. I was only ever planning on staying in Falcon a week, you know.” She sighed and rubbed her nose against his.

  “You could fly home and bring more. I’ve got a big house.”

  An Alice in Wonderland feeling came over her. If she went back to Richmond, she was afraid she’d never find her way back to him. “I’m good for now.”

  He pulled away and opened the door. “You go on and get to work. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

  Even after he turned the corner, she leaned against the cement wall, until the licking flames in her body cooled and she could concentrate on work. She logged receipts, filed tax-related paperwork, and organized invoices, finding pleasure in the straightforward logic of numbers.

  Numbers never lied or told half-truths. She came across paperwork for yet another account with a sizable amount of money growing with small, yet consistent deposits over the past three years.

  “Hey, beautiful.” His voice came from the doorway. How long he’d been standing there? A bemused look softened his eyes.

  “Hey, Mountain Man.”

  He laughed, closing the door on his way inside. “Found anything out of whack?”

  “Not out of whack, but I came across a nice little nest egg doing nothing for you.” She pulled out the statement and handed it over. He took a cursory glance and tossed it back.

  “I inherited money from Ada. The deposits are from coaching. In case of emergencies, I suppose.” He took a chair across from her and propped his feet up on the desk.

  “It’s sitting in a simple savings account making close to zero interest. You should invest it.”

  “All right. You’re the expert. Any suggestions?”

  Most of the men working at Montgomery Industries acted like they knew more than she did about business plans and investments. They assumed she got her job because of her father, which was partly true. It’s why she’d worked harder and longer than her counterparts. Logan’s easy acceptance of her expertise made her want to plop in his lap and kiss him senseless.

  “Why not invest in yourself? Open another restaurant. Based on population density, I would suggest Tuscaloosa or Birmingham.”

  He picked up a smooth, gray river rock that acted as a paperweight and tossed it back and forth. “I thought about it last year.”

  “Why didn’t you do it?”

  He winced and glanced at her through his lashes. “Promise you’ll still respect me?”

  “Try me.”

  “It’s too much work. I like coaching, I like heading out into the woods when I get the whim. I’ve got a trustworthy manager, and I’m only a few minutes away if there’s an emergency. I don’t want to be tied down by the workload. There, I admitted it.”

  Jessica stared, amazed.

  “What? You’re looking at me like I’ve sprouted horns.”

  “I’ve never had time for actual hobbies.”

  “Miss Esmerelda says you’re working your way through the library. Lots of steamy romance novels.”

  “Good grief. Librarians should be bound by client confidentially.”

  “Those ladies have an intuitive grasp on what a person’s book choices mean.”

  Jessica tapped the end of her pen on the metal desk, debating whether to flick it at his waggling eyebrows and teasing smile. Instead, she found herself smiling back. “What do you read?”

  Logan’s gaze dropped to the rock in his hand, his smile tempered. “I used to not read at all. Darcy and Ada gave me hell all through high school, but it didn’t fit with the image I’d cultivated. Since Ada passed though, I’ve been working through her favorites. Eudora Welty, Hemingway, Steinbeck. I even dipped into Faulkner. It makes me feel close with her, I guess.” He tossed the rock back onto the desk, the metallic clang ringing. “Go ahead, laugh.”

  “I think it’s sweet.”

  “Sweet?” Logan made a gagging sound. “The death knell to my manhood.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about that. Your manhood is very . . . manly.”

  Logan’s face turned speculative, his gaze narrowing. “You remember that first evening here. You sat where I am right now and offered me a job. How about I return the favor?”

  “You already offered me a job.” She laid her hands flat on the metal desktop, her palms growing warm and leaving an imprint.

  He tipped back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, crossing his arms over his chest. “I have the money to expand my brand. I don’t have the time, willpower, or frankly, expertise. However, I happen to know a highly qualified executive in need of a job who has all three.” His gaze dropped and caught her. “I can’t offer a salary anywhere close to what you made at Montgomery Industries, but we could come up with a different pay structure.”

  “Are you talking about sex?” She blinked at him, not sure if she was titillated or offended.

  His laugh landed between delight and scandalized. He performed the classic Southern lady pearl clutch. “Why, Miss Montgomery. I never!”

  She couldn’t help but smile, even as fear and excitement clashed. “What do you mean then?”

  “I mean an actual job. One you’re overqualified for. Going from handling two dozen or more restaurants to handling two.” He shrugged, still holding her gaze. “I’ll develop the menus, help train the staff, but I don’t want to mess with suppliers, hiring, or picking a location.”

  She catalogued the pros and cons. The potential for not just two, but a chain of successful restaurants throughout the southeast was enormous. Logan’s eclectic but accessible menus would push them above the fray, and she could manage the other details.

  The biggest drawback was also the biggest temptation. Working for Logan. Their love would probably flame out. This wasn’t one of the romance novels she’d devoured like candy the past few weeks. She didn’t want the business relationship her parents had settled for. They didn’t even like each other anymore. Yet she wanted to take a leap.

  Logan cleared his throat, desperation in his eyes. Either he was terrible at negotiating business deals, or this wasn’t merely business. The charming smile he tried on was strained. “I hope you’ve found my benefit package more than adequate.”

  The moment was too serious to laugh, even though her gaze darted to the front of his crisp khakis for an instant. “What if you and I don’t work out? What if we end up hating each other?”

  “I wish I could offer a guarantee. But I can’t. All I know is I can’t let you walk out of my life, Jessie. The thought of losing you brings physical pain.”

  He described to a tee the rip inside her chest at the thought of walking away from him. “Can I think about it?”

  The corner of his mouth drew back. “Is that a real ‘think about it’ or are you buying time to come up with a way of letting me down?”

  A few weeks ago, the thought of living in Falcon might have had her breaking out in hives, but the reality was strangely appealing. “The real kind. I would be leaving behind my family, my house, my—” What else did she have since she’d quit? Nothing.

  “Take as much time as you need. I’m not interviewing other candidates or anything.” He came around the desk, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him, lifting her face up to his. “I can’t see into the future, but I can assure you right now, I love you.”

  The words rolled off his tongue without a hitch. She tried to mimic the casualness, but couldn’t. Her voice cracked into pieces. “I love you, too.”

  He brushed his lips over hers, gently, almost chastely, not coloring the exchange with sexual tones, as if he understood the difficulty she faced. Her careening emotions left her feeling out of control and tossed to the vagaries of Fate. Not a comfortable feeling for her. He was used to taking risks; she analyzed situations until the risk involved in her decisions approached zero.

  He left, and without his energy, she drooped over the desk. What should she do? She’d make more money at an established corporation. On the other hand, she would b
e in charge of every aspect of expanding Adaline’s. No one, not even Montgomery Industries, could offer that sort of autonomy. And Logan was a bonus beyond price.

  Lilliana’s advice rushed back. Find someone to back you. Not only would Logan back her financially, but he’d also have her back. Unlike her father, she instinctively knew Logan would support her no matter what. She would give herself two weeks to consider his offer. To put her mind at ease, she’d poke around and see if anything could tempt her into leaving.

  She rolled her eyes. It would be a waste of time. She couldn’t imagine a job existed that could tempt her away from Logan, but could she and Logan manage business and pleasure together?

  22

  The two weeks she’d given herself turned into a blurry month of happiness for Jessica. She and Logan spent mornings cooking together, watching movies, and snuggling. He never passed up a chance to hug her or hold her hand. With the leaves changing into a mosaic of yellows, oranges, and red, they explored the woods together. He shared his knowledge of plants and animals, but also the stories of his ancestors and Falcon’s local legends.

  By lunch, he headed to Adaline’s and then the practice fields while she worked on plans for the new restaurant—even though she hadn’t officially accepted the job. Most evenings he spent at Adaline’s. Usually she joined him, but sometimes she stayed at home and read, enjoying her freedom. At night they made love, sometimes with slow tenderness, sometimes with biting passion. In a scary short time, her life melded with his, the rhythm as natural as her heartbeat.

  The home game deciding the Falcon football team’s fate rolled around. A win would send them into the playoffs, and while a loss would end their season with a respectable record, the grumblers around town would deem it a disappointment, nonetheless.

  Without Scott, both the offensive and defensive lines struggled. He had returned to work at Adaline’s and seemed happier, although he was always the first to volunteer to work game nights.

  Jessica reclined on the porch swing, a book splayed over her leg, keeping her place. The day had turned unseasonably warm, and she was soaking up the sun like a cat.

  “You sure you don’t want to come with me?” Logan riffled through his duffle bag before zipping it.

  “I’ll be in your way. You’ve got pep talks to give, footbally things to handle. I’ll come later and pretend to pay attention to the game.”

  “Someday, you’re going to appreciate the finer points of football. I want you to enjoy it.” He threaded his fingers in her hair, tugged her head back, and took her lips in a kiss of sweet promise.

  “I enjoy watching you enjoy it.” She grinned.

  The purr of an engine had them both turning toward the narrow drive from the road. Logan stepped to the rail, and Jessica joined him. A black Mercedes rolled to a stop in front of the house. Fingers of dread crawled up her spine to circle her throat. The weather-roughened wood bit into her palms, and a sickening pulse of adrenaline whipped through her.

  A driver hopped out and opened a back door. Her father stepped out and swept a glance around him. She shuffled to the top of the porch stairs and watched her nightmare approach. His gaze stripped her down to bare bones, leaving no protection against his judgment.

  Logan moved behind her and circled her upper arms with his hands as she leaned into the resonating safety he offered. The fist around her lungs loosened.

  “Good Lord, Jessica, you’ve gone positively native.” Her father’s lips quirked up. Cutting humor was an important weapon in her father’s arsenal and difficult to guard against.

  Her unpolished toes curled on the smooth whitewashed wood. Her ripped jeans and Falcon football T-shirt would never have passed muster in Richmond. “What are you doing here?”

  “I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair shorter. You look like your ma-maw in her heyday.” The nostalgic softness of his voice threw her for a loop.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked again.

  “Can I not check on my daughter? Your mother and I have been worried about you. You haven’t returned our calls. An occasional email telling us you’re ‘doing fine’ doesn’t cut it.” He flicked his gaze over her shoulder. She’d seen him size up and shred people across a boardroom table.

  She straightened and covered Logan’s hand with her own. She wouldn’t allow him to denigrate Logan. “I told you I needed time.”

  “You’ve had your sabbatical. It’s time to come back to work.”

  “I quit. Rather dramatically, as I recall.”

  “I assumed it was your time of the month or something silly.”

  “Silly?” She stepped out of Logan’s protective embrace and down two steps.

  “The same silliness that made you break it off with Michael. He had to come borrow my emergency key for your place. He’d left his tuxedo in your closet. Why didn’t you tell me he’d moved out?”

  This time the hand Logan grabbed her with didn’t feel as supportive. “Hold up. This Michael fellow. You lived together?”

  Before she could cobble together an explanation, her father said, “For a good year, but they dated since meeting at Wharton. That’s a prestigious business school in Philly, in case you didn’t know.”

  Logan’s hand dropped and curled into a fist. He ignored her father’s insult. She turned to face him and his gaze clashed with hers, held her immobile.

  Her voice was tight and strained. “We broke up six months before I came to Alabama, Logan.”

  Her father made a tutting sound. “The family assumed the two of them would marry. They have so much in common, seemed so in love, always hugging and kissing.” That was a lie, and she wanted to slap her father for it.

  “Did you tell him you loved him?” Logan asked, his voice low enough her father couldn’t hear.

  Lie, her logic screamed, but the truth, not matter how damning emerged in a desperate sounding croak. “I did, but I didn’t mean it.”

  Only after she saw him flinch did the impact hit her like an asteroid, his hurt radiating to her like the shockwaves. The pain on his face was real and poignant, and she’d caused it. Her body went numb.

  “But, Logan, with you, I—”

  “Meant it? Right.”

  She stared into his eyes and wished a crevice would open at her father’s feet. She needed to be alone with Logan. She needed to fix this.

  With an unattractive glee, her father rubbed his hands together. “Butch Buchanan at Cisco Foods called a couple of weeks ago, Jessica. Said your resume came across his hiring manager’s desk. Surely you aren’t considering working for that second-rate company?”

  “Fuck me,” Logan muttered before continuing in a louder, cutting voice. “You’re looking for another job? I thought”—he whipped off his ball cap and ran a hand through his hair before mashing it back down—“You’re stringing me along until something better falls into your lap?”

  A dreaded familiar fist tightened around her throat, and a wave of heat crashed through her body. “Logan, no, that’s not—”

  “Did you send out resumes before or after I offered you the job?” His jaw ticked and his neck was taut.

  “After,” she finally whispered.

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I gotta go.”

  Logan stamped down the steps, but her father caught his arm. “Mr. Wilde, I’ve been waiting on pins and needles since our phone conversation a few weeks ago to hear your answer. Do you want the job?”

  The implication permeated through her panic like liquid nitrogen. “Have you two been talking behind my back?”

  Logan didn’t glance in her direction, keeping his eyes on her father. “Right now I don’t feel the need to explain a damn thing to either one of you. And, Mr. Montgomery, the answer is ‘Never.’”

  Her father’s mouth drew down, his slight jowls quivering. “The general’s going to be mighty upset.”

  Logan had started to turn away, but pivoted back as if he’d set off a tripwire. His voice had dropped in
tone and volume. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Didn’t Jessica tell you?”

  Two sets of eyes bore into her, but she only focused on Logan and cursed herself. She’d had countless opportunities to tell him, but she hadn’t wanted to be responsible for hurting him. Except by keeping the truth from him, she’d hurt him even worse.

  Logan pointed at her. “Tell me, Jessica.”

  He hadn’t called her Jessie. Somehow, that made things infinitely worse. The distance between them had grown to a chasm of gravel and grass.

  Her vocal cords were tight, and she squeezed her throat, forcing the words out. With Logan, she’d lost the ability to spin her words. Only the truth would do. “General Wethersfield pressed my father into setting you up with a good job. The general is ambitious, and so are my sister and her husband. The general wanted you tucked away.”

  “You knew from the beginning.”

  She answered his flat statement as if it had been a question. “No, not from the beginning. I should have told you, but”—she floundered for words, finally finishing weakly—“I was afraid you’d be upset.”

  “Upset? I’m fucking furious.” He barked a laugh and checked his watch. “As much as I’d like to hang around and let you two rip at me more, I’ve got a game to coach.” His gaze flicked to her father before he spun on his heel and slammed his way into his truck.

  Was this the end? She ran forward and slapped a hand on the window. He rolled it down.

  “Logan, what about . . . us?”

  He looked her straight in the eyes. “I’m not sure there is an ‘us.’ Or ever was an ‘us.’ I must have been delusional.”

  He rolled the window and cut off any chance of a rebuttal. Not that she was capable of one. Physical pain ripped through her body. She pressed her hands against her stomach, feeling as if she could fly into a million pieces, never to be reassembled.

  The back wheels of his truck spun as he turned onto the long blacktopped drive. He disappeared into the trees. She backed up, plopped down on the steps, and crumpled over her knees.

  Wood creaked, and she sensed her father perching on the step beside her. She kept her eyes on the paint-crackled wood beyond her knees. “Why do you have to ruin everything that makes me happy?”