by Carrie Elks
They may have looked the same, but they were individuals.
“Tanner was asking Logan when he was gonna find a woman,” Gray said, slapping Cam on the back. “But we don’t need to ask you. We know you’re never going to settle down.”
“I don’t have time.” Cam shrugged. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you guys.”
Tanner punched Cam in the arm. “You’re a professional football player. We all know you’re fighting the women off.”
Cam shook his head at his brothers, while Logan bit down a grin. Though he’d flown back to his home town a few times recently, it wasn’t often that all four of the brothers were here at the same time. The last occasion had been for Tanner and Van’s wedding.
And now they were all here for his nephews’ first birthday party. Gray and Maddie’s twin sons had come as a surprise to them as well as everybody else. Cam had been miffed that there were more twins in the family, whereas Logan thought it was hilarious.
“I’ll get the first round. What are you having?” Cam asked them.
“I’ll take a beer,” Gray said.
“I’ll have the same,” Tanner added.
“Just water for me,” Logan told them.
Three heads immediately turned to look at him. “What?” He shrugged. “I gotta drive tonight.”
Cam eyed him suspiciously. “Where are you going?”
Logan leaned his elbows on the bar. “Catching up with a friend.”
“So you’re leaving me on my own?” Cam put his hand against his heart and winced. “How could you?”
Logan laughed. “We’re not kids anymore. And you can spend the night with Aunt Gina. She’d love that.”
“So this friend. Are they of the male or female variety?” Cam asked, still side-eyeing Logan.
“None of your business.”
Cam shrugged. “Female then. A booty call?”
“I’ll refer you to my previous answer,” Logan told him, taking the glass of water Gray was holding.
“Can you two stop bitching for a minute?” Gray asked. “I want to make a toast and you’re spoiling it.”
Cam held his hands up. “Go ahead.”
Gray lifted his bottle of beer, a smile curling his lips. “To my brothers. For always being here even when life is crazy and time is expensive. Thank you for making time for my family.”
“To family,” Tanner said, lifting his own bottle up.
“And to Becca, because she’ll kill us if we don’t include her,” Cam added, referring to their baby sister.
“To family,” Logan murmured before he took a sip of cool water. He loved his brothers like crazy, with their constant jibes and fierce affection.
But that wasn’t the real reason he was here today. The real reason was driving out of town, in a truck that made her look even tinier than she already was.
And tonight, he intended to make her his.
Again.
Chapter Two
“Ellis, can you pass the mashed potatoes to Courtney.” Mary Roberts, Courtney’s mother-in-law, gave her a soft smile. Mary always served too much food. As if she still hadn’t gotten used to the fact that her two sons had long since moved out of the house. The Roberts always ate family style, the food piled in the middle of the table. Today there was a pot roast, along with potatoes, corn bread, carrots, and string beans, along with a huge jug of gravy that her father-in-law, Ellis, was currently slathering over his plate.
“I’m fine.” Courtney rubbed her stomach and shot her mother-in-law a smile. “I haven’t eaten this well in a long time.”
“Since last Friday when you were over.” Ellis winked at her.
“I’m late,” a deep voice boomed out as the backdoor opened. Courtney had her back to it. She was sitting in the same chair as always. It had been hers since Shaun brought her home eight years earlier. And next to her was his empty chair. Nobody ever sat in it, not even on the rare occasion when they had a full table. It was just there, a constant reminder of his absence.
“Carl, come and sit down.” Mary patted the empty chair next to hers. Courtney forced a smile on her face and turned her head to greet her brother-in-law. He was Shaun’s older brother. At thirty-eight, his hair held the promise of grey, and the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkled in a way that Shaun’s never would. He was wearing his police uniform – he must have come straight from a shift.
“You look different,” Carl murmured, leaning down to kiss Courtney’s cheek. She could feel the heat of his breath on her skin, and she had to force herself not to flinch.
“She’s been to the salon,” Mary said, already filling a plate full of food for him. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”
Carl nodded. “Yeah, she does.” He slid into the seat opposite Courtney’s and filled his glass with milk. “You going out tonight or something?”
Courtney shook her head. “Lainey asked me to come in for her to experiment on. Her treat.”
“You should go out, looking like that.” Carl tipped his head to the side. “I could take you somewhere if you’d like.”
“Oh no. It’s fine.” Courtney’s heart sped up. “I’m going to make it an early night. I was up with the sun this morning.”
“Shaun was always an early bird,” Mary said, her eyes wistful. “Ever since he was a tiny baby. I remember telling him he’d pay for it when he had children of his own.” Her bottom lip wobbled, and Ellis reached out to cover her hand with his. The tightness in Courtney’s chest increased.
She hated the way they’d never recovered from Shaun’s death. Lainey would probably argue that Courtney hadn’t either. But at least she didn’t cry every time his name was mentioned. She felt sad, though. Sad that they were stuck in this awful time slip, forever mourning the child they’d lost.
They all had to work so much harder to make up for Shaun’s absence on the farm they lived on. Maybe that was why Courtney would never dream of leaving.
That and the fact that she loved the farm. Growing up, it had always been her childhood dream to live and work on a small farm like this one. It was in her blood – thanks to her grandparents who’d run their own small ranch back in West Virginia where she’d grown up. After her mom died, and her dad was working all the hours god sent, she’d spent a lot of time there.
And when her grandparents died, her dad had to sell the farm to pay all the debts on it. She’d been sixteen. By eighteen, she was studying for her associate’s degree in agriculture, and had ended up working for Carwood, a huge agricultural company that specialized in selling grain and livestock to small farmers. That’s how she’d met Shaun, when she’d come to Creek Edge Farm to discuss an order with him. He’d always joked that she’d fallen in love with the farm first, him second.
Now he was gone, but she was still here. Living in the small cottage on the other side of the fields. It was far enough away to give her privacy from the main farmhouse, with its own driveway and land surrounding it.
After they finished eating their dinner, Courtney and Mary cleaned up while Carl helped his dad repair a rotten riser on the front porch. Courtney glanced at her watch and guilt filled her up again.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said to Mary, hugging the frail old woman tight.
“It’s always good to see you. You know you can come over any time, right?”
Courtney nodded, a small smile on her lips. “I know.”
Mary opened the back door. “Ellis, Carl?” she called out to her husband and son. “Courtney’s leaving.”
Ellis looked up from the board he was holding. “Be safe. Will we see you on Sunday?”
“Of course.” Courtney smiled again. Her lips were starting to ache. “Bright and early for first service.” Attending the First Baptist Church of Hartson’s Creek was part of their Sunday routine.
Carl put down the hammer he was holding, and a tiny cloud of dust rose up from the ground. “I’ll walk you out.”
“No need. My car’s just around the front.”
/> But he was already standing, brushing the dirt from his knees. They were silent as they walked around the house to where Courtney’s old truck was parked. His patrol car was next to it, all new and shiny. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked her.
“I’m fine.” She gave him a quizzical look. “Why do you ask?”
“You seem different.” He shrugged. “Edgy maybe.”
Her poker face wasn’t as good as she’d thought. The guilt that had been simmering beneath the surface rose to the top, making her mouth taste bitter. If he knew why she really wanted to hurry home, he wouldn’t be looking at her with that soft expression right now. He’d be hurling insults at her.
Whore. Slut.
She pushed those thoughts away and reached for the truck door, but Carl beat her to it, pulling it open and standing to the side. “Your hair looks pretty,” he told her, his voice rough as he took a strand between his fingers. She tried not to wince. “You should wear it down more often.”
As soon as he dropped the curl, Courtney climbed into the driver’s seat, her keys in her hand. “Thank you.”
He put his hand on the top of the door frame, leaning in. “You thought about getting back out there?” he asked her. “It’s been two years since Shaun died. And you’re still young.” His gaze dropped down to her bare legs.
Her breath caught in her throat. “No, I haven’t.”
He nodded. “Okay then.” He leaned back, and went to close the door. “Drive carefully.”
“Will do.”
He closed the door and she slumped back against the seat. She shook her head and slid the key into the ignition, revving the gas as the engine roared to life.
And as she pulled away, leaving a trail of dust behind her, she thanked God that her cottage was on the other side of the fields. Where nobody could see what she was doing.
Tonight she’d be committing a sin she never wanted his family to find out about.
He knocked on her front door at exactly nine o’clock. Courtney walked into the hallway, checking her reflection in the mirror she’d brought with her when she and Shaun had first gotten married. It had been a wedding gift to her parents, but since her mom had died, and her father remarried, neither of them had any need of it. A reminder of her childhood home.
After getting home that evening, she’d taken a shower, careful not to let the moisture reach her hair. Then she’d pulled on the lace lingerie she’d ordered online, too scared to be seen buying such pretty scraps in Hartson’s Creek, where somebody was sure to notice. Then she’d pulled on a dress. Nothing fancy, just a cream colored casual dress embossed with red roses that skimmed her torso and flared out at her mid thigh.
She looked like somebody else. Somebody who knew what she was doing. The kind of woman who opened the door to a sexy guy and let him use her body the way they both wanted him to.
“What are you doing?” she whispered to her reflection, even though she knew exactly what was about to happen. She was going to burn in hell for it. Yet the adrenaline rush that came just from knowing he was there on her step was enough to make her not care.
Logan Hartson had that effect on her since the moment they met. It had been a few months earlier, when Harriet and Hester had escaped from the chicken run and made it all the way to Main Road, having so much fun squawking and dancing around on the blacktop that they didn’t notice the car speeding toward them.
She’d ran all the way down the lane that led from the cottage toward town, her legs flying as she tried to reach them in time. Waving her hands, she’d screamed at them, but the sound of screeching brakes had drowned her voice out, the car stopping feet away from the hens as they noticed it and squawked like crazy.
“What the fuck?” the man she now knew was Logan had muttered, climbing out of the shining black coupe. His angry eyes had met hers, and it felt like somebody had shoved their hand firmly inside of her chest. It was all it took for her not to stagger backward.
He was wearing a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal an expensive looking watch. His gaze had dipped, taking in her way-too-short cut offs that she only wore when she was doing yard work. The tank she was wearing barely covered her breasts. And seeing as she hadn’t planned to leave home, she didn’t bother to put a bra on that morning. She knew he could see how hard her nipples had become.
“I’m sorry,” she said, breathless. “They must have climbed out through a gap in the coop.” She turned to scoop up Hester, but the brown feathery siren skipped out of her grasp.
The man sighed and reached for the chicken, grabbing her in his hands, before letting out a low curse. “Shit, that’s sharp.”
Courtney’s eyes had widened. “She scratches.” Stepping forward, she could already see the blood seeping from the cut on his hand. “I’m so sorry,” she said again. “Let me take her.”
“It’s okay. You get the other one.” He looked up at the farm lane. “You live up there?” he asked, his eyes on her small cottage in the distance
“Yeah.”
“I’ll carry her up.” He kicked the door to his car shut and started striding down the lane. She picked up a much-more compliant Harriet and hurried after him, trying to match his long, sure strides.
“I have a first aid kit at the house,” she told him. “I can clean up that cut for you. Are you up to date on your shots?”
“Had my annual appointment last month,” he muttered. Hester began squawking again, squirming in his grasp. She could see his jaw tighten.
His strong, square jaw. Damn, he was good looking. Not the kind of guy you expected to see around here at all.
They’d reached the house and she’d led him to the chicken run. Immediately, she spotted where the mesh had come loose on the side. Harriet and Hester were the only ones who’d noticed, the other hens too busy pecking and clucking to think of escape. She opened the door and put Harriet down. She went to take Hester from him and her mouth turned dry. He was staring at her legs, his eyes dark, his lips slightly open. Desire washed over her.
She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this much heat pulsing inside her. Trying to keep her face impassive, she took the hen from him, their fingers sliding together for a moment.
“Thank you,” she said as she closed the coop up, before she pulled the mesh back over the nail it had come loose from. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Won’t your husband mind you bringing a strange man into his kitchen?” the man asked, his voice thick and low.
“I’m not married.” She turned to look at him. The heat in his stare made her breath catch. It had been so long since anybody had looked at her like that. She’d forgotten what it was like. “What’s your name?”
“It’s Logan. Logan Hartson. What’s yours?”
“Courtney Roberts.” She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. His eyes followed the movement. “Come in.” She pulled open the kitchen door and they walked inside. Nodding at the chair, she told him to sit while she pulled the first aid kit down from its home in the top cupboard.
She cleaned him up, her brow almost touching his as she dabbed at the cut in his hand. He was silent, apart from his soft breaths. Her mouth was dry as the desert as she tried to think of something to say to him. Anything to cut the tension between them. Her chest was tight, her thighs hot, and her heart hammering against her ribcage. She had no idea what to do with this need pulsing inside her.
She stuck a Band-Aid to his warm skin, running her finger over it to make sure it had adhered. Then she looked at him again, her expression serious as their gazes met. It felt like hours that they stared at each other, him sitting on that chair, her leaning over him. There was a pulse in his neck that she wanted to touch, to feel the scruff of his beard growth that must have appeared since he’d shaved this morning.
“Courtney,” he finally said, his voice feeling like a caress against her skin.
“Yeah?”
“Put the first aid kit down.”
“Okay
.” She did as she was told, her eyes still on his.
He reached out for her, his palm pressing against her back until she had no choice but to straddle his thighs. He slid his hand up, cupping her neck, his hand warm and sure and everything she didn’t know she needed. Slowly, he pulled her face to his until she could feel his breath against her lips.
Then his mouth was on hers, demanding and searing, his tongue sliding against hers until the desire was like a fire engulfing them both.
It was two hours later, when she was tangled in his arms in the bed she’d once shared with Shaun that she remembered Logan’s car was abandoned on the road for anybody to see.
And right then, she didn’t give a damn.
Chapter Three
Logan leaned on the doorjamb of Courtney Roberts’ cottage, his elbow bent, his shirt sleeve riding up. The Rolex on his wrist told him it was one minute past nine. Not that he needed a watch to tell him. The desire pulsing through his body was the nighttime equivalent of a sundial.
The corner of his lip curled up as he remembered the way she’d looked that first day they’d met, her curvy ass almost hanging out of the frayed cut offs she was wearing, her small-yet-perfect breasts barely hidden by the ribbed black tank covered in straw and dust. Her hair had been up, a cloud of curls hanging from the back of her head, revealing her wide blue eyes and perfectly bowed lips.
And in that moment, he’d felt like a storm had erupted inside him. A need so strong that he couldn’t think of anything but her. How she would feel. How she would taste. How she would sigh. It had been completely crazy. So was the hard-on he’d sported as soon as she’d started to clean up the scratch on his hand. He could feel the desire for her coursing through his veins.
He had to have her or die trying.
Logan blamed it on the dry spell he’d been having, thanks to working all his breathing hours on getting the latest restaurant ready for opening. He’d never been good at relationships, and that was an understatement. No woman liked coming second to his work, and that’s how it had always been. Working late nights, weekends, all the times a girlfriend would want him to be around. He’d received enough ultimatums to know that when it came to relationships and work he’d always choose the latter.