by Jennie Marts
“Gosh, I think I’m good for now. But thanks for the offer. I’ll keep them in mind as a possible food source if we have a zombie apocalypse or the end of the world is drawing near.”
He laughed again, then gave the cow’s head one more nuzzle before climbing into the back of the truck and shoving off a couple bales of hay. Crouching on the wheel well, he banged the side of the truck for Harper to drive forward.
It took a little over an hour to distribute the hay, and Logan was impressed with Harper’s driving skills. The cattle knew they were being fed, and most of them plodded toward the feeding troughs or the truck as it drove through the pasture.
The work went much faster with the two of them operating together. And Harper was good at seeing what needed to be done and jumping in to help. He was going to have to leave Bryn an extra tip the next time he was in the diner. Her latest stray was proving to be a diamond in the rough.
* * *
When they finished, Harper went in the house to make lunch while Logan busied himself with more chores. She’d set two places this time, and her stomach gave a little flip at the small smile she saw on his face when he came in at noon and saw the table.
She needed to get a handle on that feeling though. This job was too important. More important than her ego and how pleased she felt that he wanted to eat his meals with her. Maybe he was just being nice, or maybe he hated to eat alone. Neither meant that he had any sort of feelings for her or was interested in her. And as blissful as him being interested in her would make her secret heart feel, that was the last thing she needed.
It felt as if they’d had a couple of flirty moments already that morning, and she needed to shut that business down. Logan needed to see her as the hired help only, not someone who was interested in him. And the best way to do that was through his stomach. She had to keep cooking delicious meals that would make him want to keep her around.
Although the pantry was getting paltry, and she’d had to get creative and use what she had to make their lunch. She’d put together a casserole with thick tomato sauce, lots of stringy melted cheese, and spaghetti noodles, and it had filled the house with the scent of garlic and tomato when she’d taken it from the oven.
The table held a basket of rolls, a bowl of salad, and the casserole. Logan peered curiously at it as she slid a square piece onto his plate. But he didn’t hesitate as he scooped a bite onto his fork and into his mouth. He groaned his appreciation. “This is delicious. I don’t think I’ve ever had a casserole with spaghetti noodles in it, but this is amazing.”
She heaved a quick sigh of relief. “It was supposed to have elbow macaroni, but spaghetti was the only pasta you had. I was improvising.”
He frowned. “Yeah. Sorry about that. It’s been a while since I’ve made a run into town to pick up groceries. I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had the time. And I really have no idea what we have or what we’re out of.”
“Funny you should say that.” She pulled a folded sheet of paper from her back pocket. “I’ve been making a list of meal ideas and the groceries you need. I thought you could take a look at it and see if there’s anything else you want to add.”
“Good thinking.” He stole another bite as he took the list, then raised his eyes to regard her over the top of the paper. “You know how to drive a stick?”
“Sure.”
He lifted his chin. “There’s an old blue pickup to the side of the barn. It’s not much to look at, but it runs. Somebody offered it to me in trade for a tractor implement a couple of years ago. We don’t use it much, but it comes in handy once in a while. You can take it to run into town to the grocery store.” He passed her back the list without even reading it. “I trust you with this stuff. I’m sure you know better than me what we need.”
Her heart leapt. If she had her own transportation, she could use it to find Floyd. “That works for me.” She tried to keep the excitement out of her voice.
“The truck should have gas in it. And the keys are hanging on the hook by the front door. I think Dad labeled it the ‘blue hunk of crap.’”
A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth as she nodded. “Blue hunk of crap. Got it.”
Logan reached for his wallet, then pulled out a handful of twenties and set them on the table. “There’s a couple hundred there. That should be enough to get us through the next several days. We’ll get you added to the store account later so you can charge the groceries you need.” He didn’t actually say the words if this works out, but he might as well have. They both knew it’s what he meant. “You have a cell phone?”
“Yeah, but it’s a pay-as-you-go, so I only use it for emergencies.” She didn’t need to admit that it only had about five dollars of usage left on it.
He raised an eyebrow as she pulled the flip phone from her pocket. “Wow. A flip phone. Impressive. You’re really going back to the future with that thing. Does it even get Wi-Fi, or do you just call Scotty and have him beam you up when you’ve learned all you can about our primitive civilization?”
She gave him a deadpan stare as heat flared to her cheeks. “Very funny. I’ll have you know this phone belonged to my grandmother, so it’s practically a family heirloom.”
She knew he was teasing her, but the stupid, antiquated phone was embarrassing. Nana had used it for years and never had a problem with it, and as long as Harper kept feeding it money, the thing worked. And that’s all that mattered. She needed a phone in case Floyd or Judith tried to reach her. And they’d made Floyd memorize the number to this phone in case he needed to call Nana. There was no way to let him know she had the phone now, but she’d recited the number on the numerous voicemails she’d left for Judith since she’d been released from county.
The woman hadn’t returned a single call. In fact, Harper had only spoken to her a handful of times since she’d called her to come get Floyd, and Judith had never let her speak to her son. That was about to change. She had Judith’s address, and thanks to Logan and the blue hunk of crap, she now had the means to get there.
“It does look pretty valuable,” Logan said, still teasing her about the phone.
She shrugged off his ribbing. “Why spend money on all that newfangled stuff when this works just fine?”
He rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Now you sound like my dad. Does that thing even get text messages, or does it go directly to Life Alert?” He leaned off the side of his chair. “Help. I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up. Or access Google.”
She glared at him but said nothing.
He held up his hands. “Okay. Sorry. I’ll quit teasing you about your granny phone.” He ducked as she pitched a hunk of bread at his head. “For real now. I’ll quit.” He pulled his smart phone from his pocket. “What’s your number? In case I need to get ahold of you?”
Her chest tightened. She didn’t really give out her number. But he was her employer, so it would seem weird if she didn’t give it to him. She grudgingly told him the number and pushed down her trepidation as he entered it into his directory.
“All set,” he said, pushing his phone back into his pocket. “Did you enter my number that I wrote down for you yesterday?”
She opened the phone and scrolled to Logan’s contact information. She recited the number she’d entered.
A scowl replaced his good-natured smile. “Sorry, that’s wrong. The last two numbers are switched around. It should be two eight, not eight two.”
“Are you sure? That’s what you wrote down on the white board.” She didn’t want to admit that she’d memorized the number as well as added it to her phone.
“I know. I probably did.” He picked at a small scratch on his wrist, avoiding her eyes. “I do that on occasion. I mix up numbers and letters sometimes when I write. I must have been in a hurry.”
He mixed up his numbers and letters? She recognized those symptoms and the shame that went with them. She�
��d been studying the learning disability ever since Floyd had been diagnosed with it the year before. She shrugged, trying to make Logan feel at ease as she corrected the number in her phone. “I can fix it. No big deal. My…um…friend…from school was dyslexic too, so I get it.”
“I didn’t say I was dyslexic,” he snapped.
Oh-kay. She’d obviously hit a sore spot with him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”
He let out his breath. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s just a touchy subject for me. I’ve struggled with it all my life, and I don’t usually talk about it. My brain just mixes things up sometimes, but I’m not stupid.”
“Of course not. I wasn’t implying that. Dyslexia doesn’t have anything to do with how smart you are. Some of the most creative and genius minds of our time suffered from it.”
His brow knit together. “How do you know so much about it?”
She offered him an encouraging smile. “I told you. My friend. So really, I didn’t mean to offend you. And I never thought you weren’t smart. You’re obviously running a very successful ranch, and I know that has to take a lot of hard work and good business sense.”
A shadow of concern crossed his face like a cloud passing over the sun, and his lips formed a scowl. “Not always.”
Crud. She was making this worse. She needed to ditch the shovel she was using to dig herself deeper and deeper into this hole. She nudged his hand with hers and fought to ignore the spark of desire that shot down her spine at touching his skin. “Although,” she said slowly, “you have made some pretty sorry jokes today. That whole ‘beam me up Scotty’ thing was really pretty weak.”
A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Oh yeah?”
She nodded. “Yeah, and I don’t know that I really trust your judgment now that I’ve seen your taste in women. Your marshmallow-munching girlfriend is kind of a cow.”
He let out a laugh, and the sound of it had Harper’s stomach doing that flip thing again. She stood and gathered the plates. “I’d better get this stuff cleaned up and let you get back to work.”
He clapped his hands on the sides of his chair. “Yeah. I’ve got a busy afternoon. But let me know if you need anything or have any trouble with Old Blue.”
She wrinkled her forehead.
“The truck.”
“Oh yeah. It’s a little dull compared to the Ferrari I usually drive, but I’ll manage.”
He chuckled again and headed for the door. “Say, I need to drop Ted’s truck off at his folks’ house. Why don’t we coordinate when we’ll be in town so I can grab a ride back to the ranch with you?”
Dang. She’d hoped he’d be so caught up in his work at the ranch that he wouldn’t notice how long she’d be gone. She’d need to rush at the grocery store if she wanted to sneak in some time to find Floyd. “That sounds good. I have a few things to do here before I go. What were you thinking?”
“I need to run over to the James ranch next door and talk to Colt. He’s Rock’s younger brother. I think I told you we coach the minor-league hockey team together—or we did until he got a fancy new job with the NHL. Now it’s just me and my nephew’s teacher, Chloe, who do most of the coaching. Then I wanted to check on some fencing I put up in the north pasture a couple of weeks ago. Should take me a couple of hours altogether. What do you say we meet at the diner around three o’clock? Will that give you enough time?”
“Sure. That works for me.”
“Ted’s folks live a few blocks from there. I’ll drop off his truck, then walk down and grab a piece of pie while I wait.”
“Sounds good.” It actually sounded great. She quickly cleaned the lunch dishes and was running the vacuum in the living room when she saw his truck head down the driveway. She’d already pocketed the keys and the cash, so all she had to do was grab her jacket. It was still cold outside, and she was tempted to borrow Logan’s coat again but decided against it. Even though the jacket was much warmer, and she loved the way it smelled—like a mixture of saddle leather and his cologne—she was all too familiar with how small towns worked. Showing up at the store wearing Logan’s coat would surely start a few tongues wagging.
There would be enough speculation about why she was driving his truck, Harper thought as she climbed in and turned over the engine of the old truck. She’d have to make sure to mention to the cashier that she was the new hired help.
The engine rumbled to life, and she used the gearshift, which had been fitted with a black eight ball as the handle, to put the truck in gear. Her heart slammed into gear as well as she steered down the long driveway. After ten very long weeks, she was finally going to get to see her son.
Chapter 7
Harper eased the truck into a parking spot in front of the grocery store. It had only taken about ten minutes to drive into town, so she figured she had an extra half hour or so to try to find Floyd.
The town of Creedence was small, consisting of only eight main streets that were each twelve to fifteen blocks long. A large brick courthouse served as the town center, with stores and offices filling the surrounding blocks.
Logan had told her the downtown area had undergone a major renovation and added gas streetlamps and given the buildings fresh paint. The whole area, with its cute storefronts and occasional picket fencing, seemed utterly charming. Christmas music could be heard on the streets, and garlands of holly and twinkling lights decorated the main square, giving it even more of a festive and quaint feel.
Bryn had given Harper a tour the day before, pointing out key places in town—like the bank, the courthouse, the sheriff’s office, the library, and the best place to get her nails done—before driving her out to Rivers Gulch. Harper hoped to avoid going anywhere near the sheriff’s office, and she hadn’t had her nails done in years, but she had noted the location of the grade school and was relieved today that it was only a few blocks from the grocery store.
She left the truck in the parking lot in case Logan came into town early or on the off chance that someone mentioned seeing the blue pickup at the grocery store. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she kept her chin up and walked with purpose toward the school. She’d learned long ago that the best way to look like she belonged somewhere was to act like she belonged there. True, this was a small town, and she was sure it was full of busybodies and nosy Nellies that recognized anything even remotely out of place, but she could do her best to act casual and like she fit in.
She could hear the excited shouts and laughter of kids on the playground before she turned the corner to the school. Her heart thundered in her chest. Would it really be this easy? Could her timing be coincidental enough that she’d catch him on the playground and he’d run right into her arms?
The thought of seeing him again had her stomach churning and her heart climbing into her throat. She was overjoyed, but would he be excited to see her? What if he was angry at her for getting arrested and leaving him behind? She’d tried to call him every day, but the few times she’d reached Judith, her mother-in-law had always made some excuse why Floyd couldn’t come to the phone or convinced Harper it would upset him to talk to her.
Peering through the chain-link fence, she scanned the children’s faces, searching for Floyd. Would he look different? No, of course not. It had only been a few months since she’d seen him. How much could an eight-year-old change? That was a dumb question. She’d seen him sprout an inch and outgrow a pair of shoes in what felt like a few weeks.
Her hands shook, her fingers freezing as she clung to the icy chain link. But she ignored the cold, her only focus on finding Floyd. The kids looked about the right age, but there was no way to know if this was even his class.
She fussed with the front of her jacket and smoothed her unwashed hair, suddenly conscious of the way she looked. Would Floyd be embarrassed by her? How would he react to some crazy woman sta
nding at the fence outside the playground and shouting his name?
Suddenly, nothing about herself felt right, and her muscles jumped under her skin. Sweat broke out on her lower back, and she had an empty feeling in her stomach. Maybe she should leave—come back tomorrow after she’d showered and pulled herself together.
The idea of waiting so long and not getting to see him filled her with the same kind of remorse she’d experienced on the day of Michael’s funeral—like a vise grip squeezing her heart, and she pressed a hand to her chest to ease the pain.
Then she saw him.
Her breath caught in her throat. My baby.
He wore a red hat and a black coat she’d never seen before. They both looked new, along with the snow boots on his feet. But she recognized his face. Of course she did—that beautiful smile was tattooed on her soul, and the vise grip eased, then transformed into a different kind of pain. A pain of longing as her arms ached to hold him, to hug him to her chest and breathe in the scent of his hair.
The sound of his laughter carried to her as he broke away from a group of kids and ran toward the jungle gym. Two boys followed, and they raced up the side of the structure.
Be careful, she wanted to shout. But she couldn’t seem to speak. Her fingers tightened their grip on the fence as she tried to call his name, but nothing came out. She gasped in a breath of air but couldn’t seem to swallow over the pain in the back of her throat.
She tried again. “Floyd.” This time her voice worked, but the sound of it was lost in the sudden ringing of the school bell, indicating recess was over. The kids raced toward the door, and she pressed her face against the freezing chains of the fence. “Floyd!”
But it was too late. She’d missed him.
She bent forward, one hand still clutching the fence as all the air evaporated from her lungs. She’d missed her chance to talk to him, to let him know she was there. Damn it! She’d been so close. So close to seeing her boy, to touching him, to folding him into her arms.