by Lex Martin
When we stop, the room is still staring at us.
Ethan clears his throat and smirks. “How did the horseback ride go last night? Did ya get a lot of riding done?” Tori smacks his arm with a snort.
Bev looks positively delighted.
Oh, sweet Jesus. She totally knows I’ve slept with Logan.
I feel like I’m a teenager who just got busted for having a guy in my bedroom.
Flushing redder than the cherry tomatoes in Bev’s garden, I smile weakly, but I don’t have time to figure out what to say because Logan grabs Ethan in a headlock, and next thing I know, they’re wrestling on the ground like idiots, laughing and razzing each other. Everyone clears back.
“Boys!” Tori claps. “I swear, if either of you ends up concussed for my wedding and sports black eyes, I’m gonna pour laxative in your coffee when you least expect it.”
That does the trick. The brothers break apart, although they’re still trash-talking. It’s mostly G-rated, of course, since there are little ears.
I’m still chuckling about the guys’ antics twenty minutes later when the women settle in the living room to help Tori assemble the party favors her sister made for the wedding.
“This smells incredible.” I take another big whiff of the lavender sugar scrub before I replace the lid.
“I brought extras if anyone wants to try this out before the wedding,” Kat says from behind a giant pile of tulle.
Always the hostess, Tori hands out drinks to everyone and then reaches for a glass.
With a sigh, Bev sits next to me and starts tying ribbon. “All I wanna know is when I’m gonna get some more grandbabies.”
Tori chokes on her water, and Kat pats her on the back.
I nudge Bev. “Dontcha think you should take it easy on the bride-to-be?” I tease.
Her right eyebrow spikes up. “Who says I wasn’t talking about you?”
That shuts me up, and everyone snickers. At least the guys are out in the barn and not here to witness this conversation. Bev winks at me, and I shake my head at her antics, a smile on my lips.
She leans close. “You know you’re like a daughter to me, right?”
The smile stretches across my face. “Thanks, Bev. That’s a lovely thing to say.”
“I mean it. And because of that, I get to tease you from time to time. It’s part of parental privilege.”
My parents never teased me affectionately. To them, I was too shy, too awkward, too annoying, and it got me in trouble. It taught me to mind my own business and keep to myself. To keep my mouth shut. If ever the real me came out, it was with the Carters and their wild child Logan. Who’s not so wild these days, I’m realizing.
“Well, I’m honored.”
“It’s really good to have you home, kid. I was wondering if you might want to help me with the garden this week.”
“I love your garden. Of course I can help.”
She takes a sip of her sweet tea. “I have photos of you where you were this tall”—she motions with her hand—“tilling that soil for me. You planted the first tomatoes, carrots, peppers, and potatoes.”
“Your garden is my happy place.”
“I’ve never seen anyone with a greener thumb than this girl,” Bev tells the room.
I might never win an award for anything, but this right here, praise from a woman I admire, means so much to me.
Kat perks up from across the room. “Are we talking gardening? Honestly, there’s nothing more satisfying.”
I nod. Granted, I’ve never grown fields of lavender like she has, but the modest garden I helped Bev maintain over the years inspired me. “I always wanted to have my own garden and grow everything I put on the dinner table. I binge-watch this guy on YouTube who grows most of what his family eats, and his four adorable sons pitch in.”
And if I imagine it’s Logan and our kids from time to time, well, no one has to know that.
Kat pulls out her phone. “Bev, you have to see that show. I watch it too. I’ll email you the link.”
Bev turns back to me. “I’m thinking of expanding the garden. I can’t run around the way I used to, but maybe you’d like to help me? I’d pay you, of course—”
“No, I can’t take your money. You know that. I can help because I love you and your garden.” And your son. So much.
She pats my hand. “Well, we’ll see about that. Anyway, Kat has me composting, but I’m not sure where to go from there.”
We talk about her plans for the next half hour, and I’m so happy to be included. I hadn’t realized how much I missed these moments. My extended family in Florida is wonderful, but I didn’t grow up with them, so it’s not the same. But I’ve always felt invested in the Carter ranch and in their family, ever since I was little. This feels like home. Like where I belong. And if Logan and I work out…
I stop myself from the fantasy because, hello, this is not my ranch or house or garden. But it gives me a vision for my life that I never truly thought was possible. Could Logan and I do something similar? Plant a garden in his backyard? Harvest everything for our family? Enjoy having our kids tumbling around in the fields, helping us?
It seems almost too good to be true.
30
Logan
The name on my caller ID makes me do a double-take.
“Holy shit, dude. Where the hell are you?” I drop down on the steps of Ethan’s porch and strain to hear the voice on the other end.
“A Bolivian cantina.” Isaiah Walker’s deep laughter sounds in my ear. As does loud music and female banter. No surprise there. That guy has always been the life of the party.
I shake my head. “After that email you sent me, I was shitting my pants about your next gig.”
This asshole forwarded me a copy of his last will and testament “just in case.”
“The Death Road is no joke. Didn’t think I should take any chances.”
And people said I had a death wish growing up. It’s nothing like Zey’s.
“Please tell me you’re done and headed home.”
“And give up this glamorous life?”
I roll my eyes. According to his emails, he’s living in a damn hut, eating nuts and berries, and shitting in holes he has to dig on the side of the road.
I love this guy like my brother, but I get why Liberty broke up with him. Speaking of…
“Dude, did you talk to Liberty about that will?” God forbid something happens to Isaiah, she’s supposed to get everything. He’s amassed a small fortune in the last couple of years, but you’d never know it based on how he lives.
“No. It’s a worst-case scenario type of thing anyway. She’s busy living her life. I don’t want to intrude.”
That’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, but I don’t want to argue with him while he’s on the other side of the planet. Still, I can’t help but nudge him.
“I’m sure she still cares about you. That was the whole point of why you guys broke up, right?”
“There’s a saying here. Me has llegado hasta la copete. It basically means ‘you’ve worn me out’ or ‘I’m tired of your crap.’ And yeah, Liberty might care about me, but she’s over my shit and has moved on. That’s why we broke up.” He sighs. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you got that document. I need to focus on those trails, and I can’t if I’m worried about something that big.”
“Then I’m glad you called. I got your dumb will, and if you die, I will be one pissed-off motherfucker, asshole.”
We both chuckle. “So how you been? Still dealing with Samantha?”
I groan and look around to make sure I’m alone on the porch before I respond. “It’s worse than ever. I swear the more I do for her, the more she wants.”
Zey is the only person who knows about this situation. I tried to bury my sorrows in a bottle of Jack a while back when he came over and found me three sheets to the wind. And since he couldn’t remember the last time I’d been that drunk, he knew something was up and chatted my dru
nk ass up until I confessed everything.
I fill him in on the last few months of drama. Until I get to the most pressing issue in my life.
“Joey’s back.”
“No shit.”
Not sure why, but my palms are sweaty. I wipe them on my jeans. “We’re, uh, we’re together now.” Silence. “Dating.” Still nothing. “You know, each other.” The silence drags on. “Zey?”
“Yeah. I heard you. I had to look out the window to see if pigs were flying.”
I shake my head with a chuckle. “Is it weird we’re dating?”
“Not as weird as it is to hear you admit you have a girlfriend. Never thought I’d see the day when our little Logan would grow up.”
“Shut up, dick.”
He laughs. “I’m happy for you, man. Joey’s a great girl, and she’s always had a thing for you.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m just glad we’re working out now.” My lungs fill with a deep breath. “I really like her.”
Jesus. I sound like I’m in middle school. But then I’m flooded with images from last night and have to bite back a groan. There’s something about Bitsy’s vulnerability and her girl-next-door vibe that’s such a turn-on. Hopefully our first time together meant as much to her as it did to me. I can’t lie—thoughts of last night bring out the caveman in me. There’s nothing more I want to do than drag her back to my house and strip off every stitch of her clothing.
He chuckles. “I figured as much.” People yell in the background, and it sounds like he moves to somewhere quieter. “I almost hate to ask this question, but does she know about Sam and Zach yet?”
There goes my boner.
“No. I’m planning to talk to everyone after the wedding.” Isaiah makes a sound of disbelief. “What?”
“Not sure you should wait to tell her with the rest of the family. I understand why you want to wait, but she might not take it well.”
A knot forms in my gut. “But Jo always gets me. If it weren’t for Silas always being up in her grill, I would’ve told her sooner. You know the rumors he spread about my family. Joey’s the only reason I didn’t beat his ass for being such a cocksucker.”
“I hear you about Silas. He can be vengeful, but you need to trust Joey to have your back. She’s not a kid anymore. You gotta trust her to handle Silas.” He laughs humorously. “Take it from the guy whose last relationship imploded, don’t put off an important conversation too long. I’d hate to see you screw up a good thing.”
I swallow, wishing I hadn’t dug this hole for myself. “I do excel at screwing up, so…”
“Dude, it takes a screwup to know one.”
We laugh, and although I might not be a particularly religious man, I send up a prayer that my buddy makes it home safely.
When we get off the phone, I stare out at the fields and wonder how I begin to untangle this mess.
I guess it starts with the truth.
And Joey needs to hear it.
31
Logan
When I come around the corner, I spot Joey taking a selfie with Cinnamon Pie, who’s leaning out of the stall. I’ve missed seeing Jo in the barn. She looks at home here.
I try to shake off the somberness lingering since Isaiah’s phone call. As much as I want to take his advice, this isn’t the kind of convo I can handle if my brother interrupts. It’ll have to wait until Jo and I are back at my place.
Besides, the barn has too many bad memories. If I wanna jinx myself and fuck up my life permanently, this would be the perfect place to do it.
“My feelings are hurt, Bitsy,” I tease, knowing she’ll be able to get me out of this funk. “You’ve been home over a week, and you’ve taken a selfie with a horse but not with me.”
She rolls her eyes but reaches for me. I swing her into my arms, relishing the giggle she lets out.
She wraps those gorgeous legs around my waist, and I hold her up by her ass while she takes pics of us.
“Gonna post those on your Instagram?”
“Do you mind?” She pins me with those big gray eyes. “I just realized I didn’t take any photos when we were at the coast.”
“Tori can share hers with you. She took a bunch.” I nibble her neck, feeling better already. “I thought you hated Instagram.”
She shrugs. “I never had anything that exciting or interesting to post.”
Leaning back so I can see her face, I wag my eyebrows. “Am I exciting enough to post?”
Her soft palm lands on my face. “You’re probably more excitement than I can handle.”
“Oh, I think you handle me just fine.” I press her into the stall behind us and kiss her until we’re both out of breath. “Fuck, you make me so hard.”
I’ve been a walking, talking erection all day, thanks to memories of last night, but nothing compares to having her in my arms.
And even though I’d like nothing more than to relive every naked moment in real-time, one of my nosy family members could walk in here at any moment. The barn isn’t isolated like the creek.
Reluctantly, I set her down on her feet and rearrange my junk, which she palms.
“I’ll take care of that when we get home.” She winks at me and struts out of the barn.
I laugh and shake my head. I don’t know when she became so carefree and flirty, but I’m really digging this side of her. A side only I see.
I’m not sure how to explain the emotion careening through my chest. How to explain the way it’s easier to breathe when she’s with me. How fucking elated I am when she sends a smile my way or touches me.
Damn. I love this woman.
I stare at Cinnamon Pie, dumbfounded by the revelation.
I consider those words and frown.
Never did I think I was the kind of guy to lose it over a girl, but based on how it’s physically painful to be separated from her, Joey Grayson owns my dumb ass.
“Holy hell, I do love her,” I declare to my horse.
That’s when the memory of my father standing just a few feet away hits me so hard, it sucks the air out of my lungs.
“She’s not the girl for you, Logan. You’ll never make someone like Josephine happy. She’ll want to settle down, and son, that’ll grow old, and you’ll move on to the next pretty thing who glances your way and break her heart. Trust me. I know a thing or two about this sorta thing.”
When the man you’ve looked up to your entire life says you’re basically not good enough for your lifelong best friend, it makes you question everything.
At least it did at the time.
Shaking my head, I stalk out of the barn, determined to prove him wrong.
* * *
Joey’s thumb rubs across my wrist as we turn off the main drag. The sun sets as my truck slows in the drive-thru of the burger joint. We’re both wiped out. While I’m enjoying these family festivities stretching on until the wedding on Saturday, it doubles my responsibilities since Ethan has been hanging out so much with everyone. Not that I mind. I’m just tired as hell.
At least Sam has chilled out. She texted me yesterday to let me know Zach is feeling better. That’s a load off my mind. I’m tempted to text back to see how he’s doing today, but I don’t want to invite more conversation with her than necessary.
After Joey and I scarf down our meal in my truck and start back home to my place, I see the turnoff for her grandma’s house, and it gives me an idea. Even though there’s nothing more I want than to crash in front of the TV with Jojo wrapped in my arms while we relax, she needs to be my priority.
“What are you doing?” she asks hesitantly as we bounce along the torn-up road to her grandma’s property.
“You haven’t stopped by here since you’ve been home, and I figured they might have some of your stuff in boxes or something.”
She leans forward in her seat, her expression melancholy. “I’ve wanted to come by, but we’ve been so busy.”
“I figured.” That’s just like Jo. Always putting others first. N
ever asking for herself. That shit stops right now. I love that she’s so nurturing, but it can’t be to her own detriment. “Babe, if you need something, anything, you just need to let me know. I’m not always that intuitive.”
She smirks at me. “You have no idea.” With a chuckle, she presses a sweet kiss on my lips and then hops out of the truck when we park in front of the modest home.
I link our hands together and then knock on the door. A young couple answers, and I explain that Joey used to live here and her brother sold the property. I leave out the drama because there’s a lot of it. “We were wondering if he left any of her belongings behind.”
“Oh! Yes, we were just about to toss everything out. I’m glad you stopped by!” The woman, Melanie, ushers us in past her husband, who gives us a friendly wave. “I would’ve felt terrible if you’d been too late.”
As she leads us to the back bedroom, I note the house has been painted and the floors shine like new. It’s obvious this couple is taking good care of it, and a part of me is pained I couldn’t buy this property for Jo and renovate it for her the way this family did.
“Take your time, and let us know if you need help carrying anything.” Melanie shuts the door behind us, leaving us in what used to be Joey’s old room.
“That asshole left my things here!” Jojo takes in the piles of clothes and memorabilia. It’s been shoved into the corner to make room for a crib and a rocker. It’s a strange sight since half of the room looks like a scene from that TV show Hoarders. It’s not just Joey’s stuff. It’s a mixture of household items and random things piled high on what I’m assuming are her belongings. At least, I hope they are.
I rub her shoulders. She has to be pissed because she rarely curses. I don’t blame her for being upset, but I hate to see her on the verge of tears.
“Look on the bright side, Bitsy. At least you’re getting your things back. Silas could’ve just tossed them into the garbage.”
That asshole is always hurting his sister. The next time I see Silas, I might have to break his goddamn face.