by Jennie Marts
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes. Another Logan screwup. Just one more reason why you can’t trust my idiot brain to make decisions.” He pushed up to a sitting position, the muscles of his back and shoulders tight and tense. “It was such a stupid mistake. And I feel like an idiot for not catching it sooner.”
“But you caught it now. I’m sure your dad’s glad about that.”
“You haven’t met Hamilton Rivers. He doesn’t get glad about much of anything. He’s an old-school cowboy, tough as nails, and he doesn’t suffer fools.” Logan let out a bitter laugh. “Which is why I haven’t told him about it.” He dropped his head to his chest. “Because I’m too ashamed.”
Her heart broke for him. She’d known from their last conversation that his dyslexia bothered him, but the shame he felt obviously went deeper than she’d imagined. “I’m sure your dad will understand. Haven’t you struggled with this kind of stuff your whole life?”
“Yeah, I have.”
“But it’s not your fault. It’s just a learning glitch.”
“It’s not a glitch. It’s a ‘disability.’” He said the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. “That means something is wrong with me. And everyone knows it. My dad knows it, my sister knows it—we all know it because it’s the reason my mom walked out and left us.”
Harper sucked in her breath. That couldn’t be true. “I thought you said your mom died in a car accident, that she was hit by a drunk driver.”
His shoulders slumped forward. “She was. But she’d already left, gone back to Denver, because of me. Because of this stupid disability. She couldn’t take it. Couldn’t abide by the fact that she’d created this stupid child. I was the firstborn son. I was supposed to be perfect—the golden boy—not a moron who couldn’t learn to read until the third grade.”
“That couldn’t be the reason. No mother thinks of her child like that.”
“My mother did. I don’t think she was cut out for ranch life in the first place, and she’d never really seemed happy, not like other moms who baked cookies and volunteered at school and laughed and played with their kids. She might have been okay if it was just the ranch stuff, because I think she really did love my dad. He wasn’t so gruff back then. But then she had me to deal with, and all the extra work added to her already unhappy life. Exercises and tutoring and hours spent reading the same sentences over and over again.”
“But she was your mom. I’m sure she didn’t mind.”
“Oh, I’m sure she did. I know she did.” He stared into the fire as if he could see the past in the flames. “A kid knows. I could feel it in the way her body tensed when I got a sentence wrong and in the way she sighed when Dad told her we needed to work on my exercises. It was as if he was handing down homework assignments to both of us. My mom never liked being told what to do. And then she gets saddled with this stupid son who gives her no choice, who has a disability that rules her life, who makes her sit in a chair and listen to him make the same mistakes again and again.”
“That can’t be true.”
“It was. I’d hear her fighting with my dad, and nine times out of ten, the fight had something to do with me. Or to do with the extra money we were spending on a tutor and the slew of reading specialists and speech-language pathologists. After one of those fights, she’d get even more frustrated with me and tell me I just needed to try harder. Which usually backfired on both of us, because it only made me more discouraged and unable to concentrate. Then I’d end up mad and either give up or throw the stupid book I was failing to read across the room.”
“I’m so sorry that happened to you. But dyslexia is not something that is your fault. In fact, a lot of times it’s hereditary, so you may even have gotten it from your mom’s side of the family.”
“Somehow, I don’t think her knowing that would have helped anything.”
“No. You’re right. Probably not. But what I’m trying to say is that your mom leaving was not your fault either. That was a choice she made.”
“Because of me.” He turned back to her, his gaze intense as the muscles in his shoulders stiffened. “Don’t you get it, Harper? She left because her son was stupid. Because I didn’t measure up to the ideal child she’d imagined she’d have.”
Tears burned her eyes, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “No, that’s not true.”
“It is true, but I appreciate you saying otherwise.” His voice was husky and raw, and he slid his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him.
They stayed like that for a minute, holding each other, and her heart broke for the child in this man who blamed himself for his mom walking out on his family. She pressed against him, telling him with her body the things she didn’t know how to say.
He laid her back against the pillows and brushed away the lone tear that had escaped her eye. His smile was playful as he looked down at her. “Don’t cry, darlin’. I thought you were a pretty tough chick, but it turns out you’re kind of a softie.”
She had a feeling this was what he did, deflected the attention away from his learning disorder with his charm and wit. But she wasn’t going to be deflected.
Now was the time. She needed to tell him about Floyd. Tell him she was a mom, and that she had a son who suffered from dyslexia. And that it didn’t change the way she saw him or affect his worth in her eyes. “Logan, I need to tell you something.”
Chapter 20
“Don’t.” Logan pressed his fingers to Harper’s lips. “Don’t tell me anything. I’ve heard it all. It’s not your fault. It’s just a learning disorder. None of that matters or makes me feel like less of an idiot.”
“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” she said against his fingers. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Please, Harper. I mean it. Don’t say anything else.” His brows knit together, and the pain was evident in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have told you all that stuff about my mom and the cattle and the stupid dyslexia shit. Geez. I hate even saying the word. Just talking about it makes me feel stupid and like less of a man because my idiotic brain doesn’t work right.”
She glanced down at his chest. “Logan, you are more than enough of a man. And I think every part of you works right. In fact, it all works exceptionally well.”
A grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She smiled as she stroked a finger down his arm. He needed this, needed to know she didn’t think him unworthy or dumb. There would be time to tell him about Floyd later. It’s not like her son, or her mom status, was going anywhere.
Right now, in this moment, the most important thing she could do for Logan was to prove to him that the dyslexia didn’t matter, that it didn’t make him less. Of anything.
“Logan, you are smart. And thoughtful and kind. You’re skilled at both ranching and hockey, and I know playing hockey takes great aptitude. You have to have a sense of the game as you judge the actions of yourself, the puck, and the other players while still following what’s happening around you and planning ahead for the next several moves to get the puck down the ice. You have to know where your players are to pass to as well as where your opponents are who are trying to stop you.
“All that takes talent as well as a razor-sharp focus to be able to play and pass and shoot while keeping from going offsides or icing the puck. Plus, working with a team takes intellect and comprehension to figure out lines and plays and keep your head and your body cool under pressure. And you have to be intelligent to run this ranch—to grow crops, to buy and sell cattle, and keep track of the hundred and one other things you do. I know you made a mistake, but that could have happened to anyone. That doesn’t make you an idiot.”
His eyes had started to soften, but now they narrowed.
Uh-oh. He apparently didn’t want to hear about the mistake again. She switched back to telling him all the great thin
gs she saw in him. “You’re a good man. I’ve seen that in the short time I’ve known you. And it didn’t take me long to figure it out. You give back to the community by coaching hockey to little kids, and you took a chance on a woman you didn’t know to offer her a job and a leg up when no one else would.” Shoot. She didn’t want to think about the job any more than he wanted to think about his disability.
She ran her gaze slowly down his chest, then offered him a seductive smile. “And you’re sexy as hell.”
He laughed, then leaned down and slanted his mouth against hers in a kiss that turned urgent as he slid his hands up her torso and cupped her bare breast.
There will be time to talk later, she thought as she gave in to the feel of his hands roaming over her skin.
* * *
Harper blinked as the morning sun streamed through the window. Her body was stiff and achy from lying on the floor. And from other things. But those aches were good.
She was alone and still naked, but warm under the pile of blankets. A chorus of soft mewls sounded, and she looked down to see the kittens as they tumbled over the crease of the top blanket in an effort to get closer to her. Reaching out her hand, she stroked their soft fur and pulled them against her. “Good morning, cuties. I’ll bet you’re hungry.”
So was she. The clock on the wall told her it was almost seven, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air. The light above the sink was on, and she was thankful to see the power was back. “Logan?” she called out to what felt like an empty house.
No answer. The snow had stopped, and he had probably already gone out to start his morning chores. She stood and padded to the window, wrapping the blanket around her as she went. Logan’s truck was gone, so she guessed he was feeding the cattle.
She looked around for her clothes, which appeared to be strewn across the room. Her jeans were still damp, so she threw them in the dryer, then fed the kittens and put them outside while she swigged a few gulps of coffee. She pulled on one of Logan’s sweatshirts from the stack of laundry she’d done the day before, then stuffed her feet into her boots and hurried across the driveway to the bunkhouse. She needed a hot shower and clean clothes before she made breakfast.
It took her less than twenty minutes to get her body showered, her teeth brushed, and a fresh set of clothes on. Except that she only had one pair of jeans, and they were in the dryer. She took a quick peek out the window and still didn’t see Logan’s truck, so she wrapped a towel around her waist and ran back to the farmhouse.
She’d let the kittens outside when she’d left, and they were now curled together in a patch of sunlight on the porch. She paused to scoop them up and bring them inside. The mama cat should have appeared by now, and Harper imagined the worst—that either the storm or another animal had gotten her.
“Don’t worry, little kits, I’ve got you,” she told the kittens as she cuddled them under her chin. She might not be able to be a mom to Floyd right now, but she could pour a little of her mom energy into these kittens. Who knew what would happen to them once she went back to Kansas? But she couldn’t think about that now.
She toed off her boots and padded to the kitchen in her bare feet. The towel wouldn’t stay knotted, so she dropped it on the chair, then stopped in the kitchen to pull out the skillet and start the bacon.
The dryer buzzed, and she hurried into the laundry room to grab her jeans. Pulling them on as she walked back to the kitchen, she had one leg in when the front door opened and Logan strode through.
She froze, her jeans halfway up one leg and her other leg bare. This is awkward. But also convenient if he was coming in and hoping to pick up where they’d left off the night before. Just seeing his long, lean body encased in jeans and boots had her engine revving, and she offered him a small flirty grin. “Um…hi.”
“Oh, uh, hi. I thought we’d have…” He paused, and she was ready to chuck the jeans and cross the room to climb him like a tree, but her flirty smile fell as he finished the sentence with “…breakfast.”
“Oh gosh, yeah, of course.” Shit. What was she thinking? She was the housekeeper. Why wouldn’t he expect food to be on the table when he came in from doing his chores? That was her job. And the way she’d wanted it. Right?
A hot flush heated her cheeks as she stuffed her other leg into her jeans and quickly zipped them up. Avoiding his eyes, she hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the eggs from the refrigerator. “I’ve already got the bacon going, and I sliced some fruit. I’ll have some eggs fried up for you in a few minutes.”
“Harper,” he said, his brow furrowed as he took a step toward her. “I thought this is what you said you wanted. For nothing to change.”
“No, it is. You’re right. It totally is.” She couldn’t look at him. This is what she’d said she wanted. But just because she wanted to keep her job didn’t mean she wanted the other stuff—the stuff that had happened in the dark in front of the fireplace the night before—to stop. Or did she?
Or did he? Maybe he was only interested in a one-night fling, and this was his way of getting them back on the boss-employee track. It would be easier to blame it on her than to admit he’d made a mistake and let things go too far between them.
But that hadn’t seemed to be the tune he was whistling the night before. He’d acted like he’d wanted something more.
She kept her gaze focused on the bowl as she cracked eggs into it. “Last night was crazy—the blizzard, the power outage, rescuing the cows. We just got caught up in the madness of the night, and things got carried away. But we both knew it was a one-time thing, and it’ll never happen again.”
His brow furrowed in confusion, and she could have sworn she saw a hurt expression cross his face. Or maybe that’s just what she wanted to see.
Before he could say anything else or clear up the confusion, the sound of boot steps on the porch had him turning to open the door. A gust of cold air blew through the room as the new hired hand stepped in and stomped his boots on the rug in front of the door.
Zane tipped his hat to Harper before taking it off and hanging it and his coat on an empty hook behind the door. “I’m much obliged to you feeding me breakfast, Harper. I didn’t have time to grab anything this morning, and that bacon sure smells good.”
Logan offered her a small shrug, but she could tell he didn’t want to embarrass the other man.
“Absolutely. I was just frying up the eggs now. You want two or three?” She could roll with this and act like Logan had already mentioned it. Plus, she liked Zane and didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable. Besides, there was more than enough food, and it wouldn’t take but a minute more to cook a few extra eggs. She was just thankful she had her pants on when Zane had walked through the door.
“Two’s fine,” he said, as he headed down the hall toward the bathroom. “I’m just gonna wash up.” His glance veered to the mess of blankets and two pillows spread on the floor in front of the fireplace, but he quickly averted his gaze and didn’t comment.
Harper focused on getting breakfast on the table and was glad the conversation turned to the blizzard and what had to be done with the cattle. It sounded like the town had taken a few hits with downed trees from the storm, but the power had been restored there as well. One of the great things about Colorado was that it could snow like hell one day, then be sunny the next. The air was still cold today, but at least the brunt of the storm was over and the sun was shining.
The men ate quickly, both anxious to get back to work. Logan told her they had already fed the cattle and were going to be working in the barn that morning. “Zane’s going to spend some more time with the new horse. He’s already making great progress with her. I may have bought her, but the dang thing couldn’t care less about me. Yet she comes running toward Zane like he’s got sugar in his pocket.” Logan turned toward the other man. “Is that the trick? Do you have sugar in your pocket?”
Zane shrugged, his expression and tone neutral as he quipped, “Nah, I just have a naturally sweet disposition.”
The three of them stared at each other, holding a beat before they all burst into laughter. Even Zane, who normally didn’t offer much more than a soft chuckle, showed his teeth as he laughed with them.
It warmed Harper more than any blanket could to feel like the tough cowboy trusted her enough to let her in on the joke and to let down his guard enough to laugh with her. These people—this ranch—was starting to feel like a home, and she directed her focus to wiping down the counter as she fought the sudden burn of emotion in her throat.
“I was going to make cinnamon rolls this morning,” she told them as they zipped back into their coats and donned their hats. “Why don’t you come back in around ten thirty? I’ll have warm rolls and a fresh pot of hot coffee for you.”
“Sounds good,” Zane said as he pushed through the door.
“Breakfast was great,” Logan said, right on the other man’s heels. Before closing the door, he turned back and gave her a wink, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Thanks, Peaches.”
With a laugh, she threw the dishcloth toward him. But he’d already pulled the door shut, and she could hear his boots thumping down the steps. Heading for the kitchen, she dove into getting the dishes done and the rolls started, thankful Logan was back to teasing her again. While the rolls baked, she straightened the living room, clearing up the bedding and putting the pillows back on the sofa.
With festive Christmas carols playing on the radio, she mopped the snow from the hardwood floors and ran the vacuum. The heavenly scent of cinnamon and bread filled the house, and she’d just finished frosting the rolls when Logan and Zane stomped back in.