by Tracy Wolff
Paige didn’t even try to stop the goofy grin. Logan hadn’t snuck out in the middle of the night, desperate to get away from her. He’d stayed until morning, had even driven into town to get breakfast for the three of them. He wasn’t here now, but he’d left his coffee behind—almost as if he’d left in a huge hurry. He must have gotten an emergency call from work and run out to deal with it. Such was the life of a small-town sheriff, or so she assumed.
Reaching for the coffee he’d left her, she took a long sip, savoring the warmth as it flowed through her system. But even as she drank, she had a feeling that the heat inside of her had much more to do with her feelings for Logan than it did the coffee.
It was a scary thought given their history. But she wasn’t going to think about that today, she told herself firmly. She wasn’t going to worry about the future when the present was so glorious.
Taking her coffee and a chocolate croissant out to the porch, she sat on the swing and simply watched the ocean roll in. She didn’t want to think anymore, didn’t want to second and third and fourth guess Logan’s motives. Didn’t want to worry about what every word and facial expression meant. That was the stuff of teenagers and she was no longer one. She might have loved Logan since she was seventeen—even as she’d hated him—but that didn’t mean that she had to behave like she was still a child. She was a grown woman and smart enough to know that what was meant to happen would happen and there wasn’t a lot she could do about it.
Yet she still found herself listening for the phone to ring, or for the sound of Logan’s truck in the driveway.
Neither had happened by the time Luke made his way downstairs an hour and a half later, still a little bleary-eyed from the fun he’d had the night before.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, baby. Why don’t you come sit over here with me?” She lifted her arm to indicate that he should snuggle against her.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked as he settled in against her.
He yawned, stretched a little. “Yeah. But I wish it was nighttime already.”
“You know if you’re still tired, you can go back to sleep. It’s not like there’s anything we have to do today, except more painting.”
“I like to paint. But I want it to be night because Dad said he’d take us bowling after his shift, remember? He gets off at six.”
She had forgotten and Luke’s words erased any lingering concerns she might have had over Logan’s disappearance. If he was off at six that night, it probably meant he had to work the first shift, which she’d learned started early. She’d hear from him sometime during the day—he always called to confirm plans with Luke before he picked him up.
But as the day passed and she and Luke painted a third guest room—peach this time—Logan didn’t call. When she took Luke outside to throw the football, she brought her cell phone in case, but no call. And when six o’clock came and went with no sign of Logan and no phone call to cancel, the first stirrings of anger started to well inside of her.
It was one thing to sleep with her then disappear. It had been years since that had happened to her, but it had indeed happened in the past. But to make plans with her son and blow them off—blow him off? She wasn’t okay with that and when Logan finally did get around to calling, she was going to tell him exactly what she thought of his behavior.
Luke seemed to take being stood up fairly well, considering how much he’d been looking forward to going bowling. But he kept telling her it was no big deal, that his dad probably had some big arrest at work. It had nearly broken her heart when he’d smiled and said, “The son of a police officer has to learn to be flexible. Bad things don’t happen on a schedule.”
For Luke, she tried to keep the faith. Tried to tell herself the same thing—that Logan was stuck at work and unable to get away. But even as she told herself that, even as she agreed with her son that his father’s absence didn’t mean anything, deep inside she knew the truth. Logan regretted sleeping with her and was running away. Like most men of her acquaintance, he couldn’t handle being honest about it, so he was staying away until she got the hint.
And boy, did she get it. He wouldn’t have to worry about her making any unpleasant scenes this time around, begging him to take her back, to believe her, to want her and her child. She’d learned her lesson last time, even if she had had a relapse.
But that relapse was over, her heart was once again hardened against him. When he called, she would tell him so, tell him he could see Luke because he had nothing to fear from her.
That’s how stupid she was. How unbelievably moronic she was. That she really believed Logan would eventually call or stop by. That he would want to see his son, whom he’d sworn was the best part of his day.
Two days later, when Penny finally made it back from Portland, Paige and Luke were still waiting for the phone to ring.
“IF YOU’RE SO MAD, WHY don’t you call him yourself?” Penny asked, as they sanded an armoire she had picked up in Portland for a song. Four days had passed since Logan had made love to Paige then pulled his disappearing act and she couldn’t remember ever feeling so angry or guilty in her life.
If she hadn’t slept with him, things would still be fine. He would still be showing up every day to take Luke on some fun outing, still be hanging out on the porch talking easily to her. He would still be the man she’d wanted to believe he was.
Instead, she had done something stupid, something she’d sworn she would never do again and everything had gone to hell. And what bothered her the most, what hurt her the way nothing else could, was that she wasn’t the only one suffering from her mistake. Luke was devastated by his father’s desertion, confused and hurt and wondering what he had done wrong.
She told him every day that it wasn’t his fault, that he’d had nothing to do with Logan’s disappearance, but he didn’t believe her. How could he? In his mind, his father had said he’d loved him then changed his mind. The dad he knew wouldn’t do that without a reason. He wouldn’t do it if Luke hadn’t screwed up.
“Why should I call him?” she demanded as she took her anger out on the armoire, sanding for all she was worth. “He’s the one who disappeared without a trace.”
“Exactly. Which is a pretty good indicator that he’s not going to call. If you want to know what happened, you’re going to have to be the bigger person.”
“I already know exactly what happened. The same thing that always happens with Logan. He got a shiny new toy and wanted to play with it. But after a while that toy got boring and he dropped it like it never existed, like he never really wanted it at all. Typical modus operandi for Logan Powell—I was the idiot who forgot. So I guess this whole mess is really my fault.”
Penny sat back on her haunches and Paige pretended not to notice the way her sister was studying her. It didn’t work. “I have to say, sis, that’s the first time I have ever heard you refer to yourself as a toy.”
Paige shot her a fulminating glare. “It was a metaphor and I was referring to Luke. That kid is in his bedroom right now, trying to figure out what the hell he did wrong to make his father not want to be with him. It’s awful. This whole thing is awful.”
Penny nodded her agreement. “I still can’t believe you slept with him. What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“But if you could have seen him that night. He was so tender, so sweet, so different than he’d ever been with me. It was impossible to say no.”
“Maybe he felt the same way.” Penny held up a hand to stay Paige’s vehement denial. “I’m not defending the rat, believe me. Watching my nephew mope around like it’s the end of the world has been no fun. But you told me yesterday that things had been so intense between the two of you that it scared you a little. Maybe Logan felt the same way.”
“I doubt it. If he’d felt even half of what I did, there’s no way he’d be able to stay away. But again, this isn’
t about me. It’s about Luke.”
“It’s about both of you.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is. Because if it was only about Luke, you would have been beating Logan’s door down two days ago, demanding to know who the hell he thought he was to mess with your kid.”
“That’s not true.”
“When have you ever let anyone hurt Luke without taking them on?” When Paige didn’t answer, Penny smirked at her. “See? Never. Which means you’re as hurt by his behavior as Luke is and you don’t want to deal with it.”
“Since when are you a psychologist?” Paige tried to ignore the fact that her sister was right. She was hurt by Logan’s behavior, and even worse, she felt like a moron.
She’d spent the past nine years growing strong, protecting herself and her child, making sure that no man could ever hurt her again. She’d kept to herself, dating only casually, if at all, in an effort to protect herself. To protect Luke. Not because she believed all men were scum, but because she knew one man was and she wanted to make sure she didn’t make a similar mistake.
She laughed bitterly. Well, she had to hand it to herself. She hadn’t done what she’d feared—hadn’t made a similar mistake. Oh, no. Not her. She’d made the same damn mistake with the same damn man. It was humbling, and horrifying, to realize that despite everything, she really hadn’t learned a thing.
So what was she supposed to do? Should she let this go? Ignore Logan and hope that in time Luke would grow to understand that his father’s deficiencies had nothing to do with him? Should she talk to her son, admit her mistakes—past and present? Or should she confront Logan, force him to be the father that Luke needed?
She and Luke had been good on their own for a lot of years. No Logan meant no interference, no threat of a custody battle, no having to share Luke. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit that that thought appealed to her, especially in light of recent events.
But just because it was the path of least resistance, didn’t mean it was necessarily the right one. Luke had wanted a father figure for a long time. His father. That had become glaringly obvious in the days he spent with Logan.
Was it fair to deprive him of that, simply because it was easier for her not to deal with Logan? Penny was right. Paige had always fought for Luke, from the moment he was born. Had always been willing to take on anyone and anything in an effort to make her son’s life better.
So why wasn’t she doing that now? Why wasn’t she confronting Logan and demanding that he take responsibility for his son? Not monetarily—Luke had everything he needed and then some—but emotionally. Why wasn’t she taking him on, when it was obvious that her son needed him? Wanted him?
The answer, when it came to her, wasn’t pleasant, but it galvanized her. She had let Logan do this again—to her and her son—because she was a coward. She was afraid of what he could do to her, of how he could make her feel, and she was hiding out at Penny’s because it meant she didn’t have to deal with him. Didn’t have to face her own weaknesses and failures when it came to Logan Powell.
But no more. She was done with that, just as she was done with him. But he had responsibilities to Luke. He was the one who had opened this can of worms, the one who had insisted he wanted to be a part of Luke’s life. Now it was time for him to ante up.
This was it. She’d give him one more chance and if he didn’t come through for Luke now, then he was done. She didn’t care how loud he yelled or how many scenes he caused or how many lawyers he got, there would be no way she was letting him within one hundred yards of her child.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LOGAN LET HIMSELF INTO the house through the garage. After grabbing a beer, he flopped down on the sofa and turned on the TV. It wasn’t until he’d twisted off the cap that it occurred to him that he was doing that a lot lately—coming home and getting buzzed in an effort to avoid thinking.
About Luke. About Paige. About the gigantic mess he had managed to make of all of their lives.
He put down the beer with a frown of disgust. The last thing he wanted was to turn into his mother—dealing with the difficult parts of life through a substance-induced haze. Oh, his mother’s haze came from her prescription tranquilizers, but denial was denial was denial.
He’d started to call Paige at least fifty times over the past few days, wanting to explain. Wanting to apologize for running out on both her and Luke. But every time he dialed her number, he heard his mother’s devastated voice in his head and he’d hung up, too afraid of ending up bitter, miserable, trapped to actually dial the phone.
He knew he was going to have to eventually. After all, he needed to see Luke. The days had passed with agonizing slowness and he knew that part of the reason was because he missed his son. It was amazing how fast he’d grown used to seeing the kid every day, how knowing he had an outing planned made the day go faster.
But he wasn’t ready to face Paige yet, not even if it was to talk about their son. He needed a little more time to gird his defenses, to bury the hurt and the guilt and the sorrow so that they didn’t spill over her the second he opened his mouth.
Reaching for the remote control, he flipped channels until he found a baseball game. Washington was playing Boston tonight. It promised to be a good game—he needed something to take his mind off his problems.
But he’d barely watched an inning when his doorbell rang. Cursing under his breath, he went to answer it, prepared to tell whoever was on the other side to leave him the hell alone.
He nearly fell over at the sight of Paige on his porch. Paige had come to see him.
But she didn’t look like any Paige he had ever seen before. Dressed in an expensive black pantsuit with an emerald silk blouse and black stiletto heels, she looked every inch the successful businesswoman she was. She also looked completely untouchable and about as inviting.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
“Sure, yeah, of course.” He stopped gaping like an idiot and stepped aside so she could come in. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you. I wouldn’t exactly call this a social call.”
Something about her attitude pricked at him. Maybe it was the stiff way she held herself away from him or the look in her eye that said he was about three levels below the ugliest, most pathetic bug she could imagine. Whatever it was, he found himself wanting to get to her. Wanting to muss up her perfect look a little bit, until he could find the Paige he knew—the real Paige—wherever she’d hidden her.
Unable to resist, he shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned indolently against the wall. “Okay, darlin’. I’ll bite. If this isn’t a social call, what exactly is it?” He let his eyes sweep over her from head to toe, lingering on her full mouth, beautiful breasts and long, long legs.
Her eyes narrowed and he felt his body react to her challenge, felt himself grow hard when arousal was the last thing he should be feeling. Hadn’t he promised himself that he was done with her, that he wouldn’t do this? His sanity couldn’t take it.
And yet, being in the same room with her made him want to forget every vow he’d made. She was so damn sexy and smart, so damn perfect for him, that keeping his hands off of her was agony.
“Look, Logan, I don’t care about what happened between us. I don’t care that you snuck out of my house or that you didn’t call me or that things didn’t work out.”
“You don’t care?” he asked, moving toward her slowly. Crowding her so that she retreated across the room.
“No.”
“Not at all?”
“Absolutely not.” But her voice didn’t sound as certain as it had moments ago. Which was exactly what he’d been looking for. Because he cared that things weren’t working out between them. He cared so much it was ripping him apart and he needed her to feel some of the confusion and need and desperation that was roiling inside him.
He stroked his hand down her satiny cheek, brushed his thumb over her sweet, pink lips. They parted on a gasp a
nd her eyes turned cloudy in an instant.
“Are you sure?” he asked, leaning toward her, until his mouth was only centimeters from her ear. Though she didn’t give an inch, a shudder worked its way through her and he grinned. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you care a whole hell of a lot.”
“You really are a bastard, you know that?” Her voice trembled and he told himself to stop. Told himself that he was, indeed, being a bastard. Whatever he started here wasn’t going to end well—that much was obvious. And yet he couldn’t help himself. He needed to touch her, needed to feel her body against his one more time.
“If I’m such a bastard, why aren’t you moving away?” He brought his other hand up, cupped her breast. Toyed with her diamond-hard nipple. “Why are you letting me touch you? Why are you all but shaking with desire?”
He lowered his mouth, brushed his lips against hers as he waited for her to react. This time, he wanted her to be the one to take him. Her to make the final move that brought their mouths into brutal, brilliant contact.
He was on fire, his body aching for her. His heart crying out for her even as he told himself it was useless. That loving her was hurtful, abhorrent, wrong. That she would hurt him again and again before things were finally over between them.
But none of his arguments mattered, none of the promises he’d made to himself were worth a damn. Because the second he’d opened that door he’d known that nothing mattered but Paige and his son. And nothing ever would.
She didn’t make the final move, didn’t bring her mouth to his, so in the end he did it for her. He curled his hand around the back of her head and brought her forward, until her lips touched his.
Lust exploded in him the second their mouths met, and he went at her like a starving man. Thrusting his tongue between her lips, he explored every part of her honeyed depths before stroking along her tongue with his own.