Cowboy Truth: Cowboy Justice Association #3

by Olivia Jaymes

  “I think she really loved my dad.” A bitter expression crossed his face and Logan shook his head. “Wait, not my dad. John Wright. I think she really loved him. I don’t know if she loved my real dad.”

  Logan drank from the bottle before handing it back to her. She winced but took another drink, already getting used to the fire it created.

  “Wade, Lyle, and Aaron are my brothers. Half-brothers anyway. I don’t know how I feel about that.” He turned to face her, his eyes almost black from emotion. “How am I supposed to feel about this?”

  “I don’t know,” Ava admitted softly. “I don’t think you’re supposed to know this soon. You need to give yourself time.”

  Logan laughed but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Time? Yeah, that’s what I need. Time. Do you know that I waited for months for Mom to come back? Every day I’d come from school and I’d hope and pray she’d be back. I never gave up hope until the day I left for the Army.”

  “I bet she would have been proud of your military record. I heard you’re some kind of hero.” This time she did reach out to him and place her hand on his. His gaze dropped to where their fingers were joined but he didn’t pull away.

  “In combat, a hero is somebody who does something stupid and lives to tell about it. In my case, I saved some of my fellow soldiers by risking my own life. I had a death wish back then.” Logan set the guitar beside him. “It wasn’t even my idea to go into the Army. It was Sheriff Frank Jesse’s idea.”

  Logan sat up restlessly. “After my mom disappeared I started doing stupid shit. Hanging out with troublemakers. Looking back, it was obviously a cry for attention. Anyway, me and a couple of kids broke into the drug store and stole some candy and soda. Kids’ stuff really but the sheriff caught us. I guess he saw something in me because he made a deal. If I kept my nose clean and graduated from high school, then joined the military, he wouldn’t arrest me.”

  “Did he arrest the other kids?”

  “He did. Said they were ‘punks’, I believe. He was right. I’ve arrested every one of them while I’ve been sheriff. The ones that aren’t dead or in prison already.”

  “So you joined the Army?” Ava wanted to keep Logan talking. It seemed the only way for him to work through what had happened to him today. She also had to admit she selfishly wanted to know more about this fascinating, complex man.

  “Yep. Sheriff Jesse said if I did five years he’d make me a deputy when I came home. It seemed like a good deal. I didn’t have any other ideas as to what I wanted to be. Of course I ended up doing ten years because of 9/11. Frank taught me everything he knew about being a lawman. He kept his promise.”

  That would be important to Logan after everything he’d been through. He’d only surround himself with those who kept their word. She understood now why being up front with women was so important to him. She also understood his frustration with Christina. She’d gone back on her word about no strings or commitments. Logan would never trust her again.

  It also sounded like Sheriff Jesse was the closest thing to a father figure Logan had had at the time. It was amazing that he’d turned out as normal as he had.

  “Logan,” Ava began, still unsure as to what to say or do when faced with the truth about this man’s life. He’d borne more than she could have imagined but come out the other side, obviously stronger and better for it. “I don’t know why your parents left but I’m sure it didn’t have anything to do with you. Things happen and life gets difficult. Whatever it was, it wasn’t about you.”

  “Both of them?” he asked drily. “They both left me but it didn’t have anything to do with me? Then Daddy Dearest could have told me when I didn’t have anyone, but did he? Fuck no. Shit does happen, good girl. Bad shit. But what the fuck would you know about it? What bad thing has ever happened to you?”

  His jaw was tight and he didn’t look at her. She was shaking inside, recognizing his tightly controlled anger but knowing he wasn’t mad at her. He was furious at the world and she just happened to represent it at the moment.

  “Nothing,” she conceded. “Nothing like you. My father is a pain, my sister is a piece of work but it’s not even in the same league as what you’ve had to deal with. You win.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Funny, this is one I gladly would have let someone else win. I’m sorry I got mad. It’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault.”

  Ava nodded her head. “It’s somebody’s fault, Logan, but not yours or mine. It’s their fault. This has to do with them. Their shortcomings as human beings. No one else. You don’t blame your issues on others, do you? No.” She answered her own question.

  “Why are you here again?” Logan queried, lifting the bottle to his lips.

  “I came to make you feel better,” she admitted. “I think I may have done the opposite.”

  “I felt shitty when I got here and I feel slightly less shitty now. Could be you or could be the booze.” Logan held up the bottle. Most of the amber liquid had been drained. “Doesn’t matter which.”

  He held out the bottle to her and she drank from it only semi-reluctantly. The whiskey had warmed her inside and made her feel slightly drowsy and mellow.

  “I really was worried about you.” Ava settled back against the pillows as the room seemed to be undulating before her eyes.

  Logan rolled over on his side, a smile playing on his lips. “If you really want to make me feel better, you could get naked. Naked women always make me happier.”

  She started to sit up sharply but the room spun and she had to lie back down. “Don’t be a jerk. I’m not taking my clothes off.”

  “Too bad. I bet you look pretty hot naked.” Logan had lay down also and was staring at the ceiling.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” she answered tartly. “I look like every other woman.”

  “Naw, I bet you look like you.”

  It was kind of a nice thing to say but she was too tired to think any more about it. Logan tipped the bottle up and drained it before tossing it away. It clattered and rolled across the floor but luckily didn’t break.

  “The room is spinning.” Ava placed her arm over her eyes but the bed continued moving in relentless circles. Her stomach lurched and she swallowed hard to keep her stomach contents from reappearing.

  “Hold onto me,” Logan replied, pulling her into his arms. She thought about fighting him but the room did indeed stop spinning. Her stomach settled and she put her head on his chest, listening to the thump of his heart.

  “I’m so tired. Does drinking whiskey make you tired?” she asked. Logan didn’t answer and she lifted up to look at him. His eyes were closed and his expression peaceful. A snore erupted from his mouth and she couldn’t hold back her giggle. He’d drunk so much he’d fallen asleep. She’d just lie here and keep him company. Maybe just close her eyes for a few minutes. When she knew he was okay, she’d climb down the tree ladder and head home.

  Logan’s snoring settled into a deep but disturbingly loud pattern. It was a wonder women were trying to get into his bed. Luckily they weren’t there for the sleep. She’d never be able to get any rest with that racket.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ava started to open her eyes but winced as a sharp pain pierced her skull. She cautiously lifted one lid but quickly shut it again when the shooting pain turned into a hammer on her forehead. Licking her dry lips, her stomach lurched threateningly. The inside of her mouth tasted like dirty socks and felt as dry and grainy as a desert.

  What happened last night?

  With one eye now open, she took in her surroundings. She was still in the treehouse but instead of dark outside the windows, sun was streaming in making her squint. She levered up from her prone position and her head and stomach protested vigorously. One look at the rumpled bed next to her showed Logan was nowhere to be found. He’d left her up here to die obviously.

  Death sounded pretty good at the moment. Her head hurt, her body ached, her stomach felt like it wanted to leave her abdomen, and
she could feel every individual strand of hair on the top of her head.

  So this was a hangover. She’d never drink again.

  “You’re finally awake.” Logan’s cheery face appeared in the doorway. He looked disgustingly healthy and had clearly showered and changed. She, on the other hand, never looked good in the morning under the best of circumstances. These were the worst. She bet she looked like a zombie. A wrinkled, hungover, pissed off zombie.

  “Apparently. What happened last night?”

  She reached up to try and smooth her hair down as he climbed into the treehouse. Despite feeling like death, she couldn’t help but notice he was only wearing a pair of jeans. His broad chest with just a sprinkling of blond hair was bare and she had to look away from all that potent masculinity on display. It made her want to run to her laptop and write a character in his honor. At the moment she wasn’t in any shape to run anywhere.

  “We got drunk. We fell asleep. Pretty straightforward. I brought you some coffee.”

  Logan held up a styrofoam cup with a smile. Later she would probably thank him for climbing up a tree ladder with only one hand free to bring her a beverage. At the moment, the wafting aroma of coffee made her stomach contents rise in her throat. She slapped her hand over her mouth and groaned, her eyes wide with panic. Throwing up in front of Logan was simply a non-starter. She’d never be able to face him again if she did.

  His expression turned from happiness to confusion then to understanding. He quickly tossed the cup out of the open door and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

  “Let’s get you into the house. We’ll splash some cold water on your face and get you some saltines.”

  She didn’t know how Logan managed it, but somehow he got her down to the ground, practically carrying her into the house. The smell of coffee and eggs hit her the minute she stepped in and she whimpered as her stomach twisted and rolled. She flew through the living room and down the hall to the bathroom where she became wretchedly sick.

  A gentle hand was at her back holding her hair and running up and down her spine. When she was done, Logan gave her a cool washcloth and a glass of water. Tears leaked from her eyes and she cursed her weakness in front of this man. She didn’t want him to be this nice to her. She wanted to think of him as a selfish womanizer.

  “I think the lining of my stomach is gone,” she sniffled. “Possibly some of my intestines too.”

  Ava heard him chuckle as he flipped the lid of the toilet down and helped her up from the floor to sit on it. “I think it’s all still there. You’ll be okay. I promise. You must be really pissed off at me, good girl.”

  Ava looked up at him in surprise. She’d thought he would make fun of her illness. She’d hoped it. “Why would I be mad at you?”

  “Because I told you to drink. It’s my fault. It never occurred to me you’d be this sick. I’m sorry, honey. Are you ready to lie down for awhile?”

  She nodded and pondered his apology. It really was his fault. She never would have drank that whiskey if he hadn’t said to.

  No, wait.

  She knew he wouldn’t have made her leave if she hadn’t. He would have let her stay. She’d drank it because she wanted to belong. Peer pressure at its finest. She’d thought she’d outgrown it.

  Nope.

  She let him help her, his arm supporting her weight, as he led her back into the living room and settled her on the couch. She leaned back against the cushions and sighed. It felt good to lie down. Now that her stomach was empty, it didn’t feel too bad either.

  “I’ll be right back,” Logan said and he disappeared into the kitchen. He returned with a sleeve of crackers which he handed to her. “Can I make you some tea or something?”

  He seemed to know how to take care of a hangover. This whole situation was going from bad to worse. He was sexy and nurturing. Was he trying to ruin her for any other man?

  “Okay. Thank you,” she replied belatedly. She opened the crackers and bit into one, the saltiness actually tasting good on her tongue. She nibbled on them as she listened to him moving around in the kitchen. It was kind of nice being waited on by a handsome man but she knew better than to get used to it.

  He brought out the steaming cup and set it on the end table. “Drink up. It will help settle your stomach.”

  She blew on the liquid and took a sip, making a face. “Sweet.”

  “The sugar will help revive you. You look a little washed out.”

  “Is that a nice way of saying I look like death warmed over?” She took another sip. “I don’t look good in the morning. Some people do, some don’t. I’m part of the latter, I’m afraid. I bet you do though. Jerk.”

  She was trying to build up her crumbling defenses but he was knocking them down so easily, brick by brick.

  “I doubt it. You look fine, good girl,” he assured her. “Just pale from being sick. Do you want to take a punch at me for getting you drunk?”

  Ava looked at Logan over the edge of her cup. He was smiling but managed to look contrite at the same time. Hitting him was tempting, but she wasn’t going to do it. “I don’t want to hurt my hand. Maybe I can kick you in the balls when I’m feeling better.”

  Logan laughed and the sound hurt her head a little. “Sorry, I’m only offering a punch in the jaw. My balls are off limits.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Unless you had something pleasurable in mind, that is. Then I might be persuaded.”

  She might be persuaded too, but letting him know that would be stupid. Groaning, she closed her eyes to block out the sight of him looking too good for this time of day. “Logan Wright, the last thing on my mind is sex. How can you be so cheerful this early in the morning anyway?”

  She mentally apologized for lying but she was in sheer self-preservation mode here.

  “Because it’s not early for one thing. It’s almost ten o’clock.” He sat down on the coffee table next to the couch.

  She sat up so fast she almost spilled her tea. “Ten! Oh my stars, my parents will have called out the National Guard.”

  Logan’s hand stayed her movements pressing her back against the cushions. “Stay put,” he ordered sternly. “You can call your parents and let them know you’re okay. You need to lie down and rest. Give your stomach a chance to settle. Running off now isn’t going to do you any good.”

  Ava sat back, albeit reluctantly. Her overprotective father had probably already had a litter of kittens by now. She’d never hear the end of this from him. Even her mother who was more open-minded would be worried to a frazzle. They would think she’d had wild sex with Logan last night. Anyone who knew him would of course.

  And anyone who knew her?

  Don’t go there.

  Logan grabbed the landline from the kitchen and handed the receiver to her. “Go ahead and let them know where you are.”

  Staring at the phone, Ava was flummoxed as to what to say to her parents. She couldn’t tell them she’d gotten drunk and spent the night with Logan. She didn’t want to lie either. They would already have their suspicions about what might or might not have happened last night.

  Ava was a grown woman and here she was arguing with herself about how to break it to her parents that she’d done something most grownups do once or twice in their life.

  Logan’s eyebrows were pulled down. “Aren’t you going to call them?”

  She looked up at him and something in her expression must have told the story. He smiled gently and plucked the phone from her hands. “Why don’t you let me do the talking?”

  She wasn’t the type to let a man take control of things but she was tired and sick. Logan was confident and assured. If anyone could talk her parents off a ledge, surely it was him? After all, he had her contemplating doing wild naked things with him. He could handle two hysterical parents.

  He punched in their number and waited for an answer. “Mrs. Hayworth? Good morning, ma’am. This is Logan Wright.”

  Thank God it had been her mother answering. Of course it could be bec
ause her father had already stroked out some time in the night when Ava hadn’t come home.

  Logan was smiling and nodding as he listened patiently to whatever her mother was saying.

  “Ava’s fine,” he assured her. “I think something she ate didn’t agree with her and she got sick to her stomach. She’s feeling better now and lying on my couch.”

  More talking from her mother. Ava liked how he didn’t really lie but he didn’t tell the whole story either. The whiskey had certainly not agreed with her.

  “It’s all my fault. After she finally fell asleep, I was tired too. I should have called you last night and for that I can’t apologize enough. Please blame me. She was safe here, I promise.”

  Logan was using every ounce of charm and it appeared to be working. The voice coming from the phone sounded much less agitated than before.

  “She’s going to rest a little more and then I’ll bring her home. She should probably take it easy today.”

  Logan exchanged more pleasantries with her mother before hanging up. He tossed the receiver on an armchair. “You’re in the clear. Somehow your mother kept your father from figuring out you didn’t come home by telling him you were still asleep this morning. She was very worried. I’ll take you home on my way out of town.”

  “I have my car here,” she said stiffly, faintly put out by how easily he handled her parents. She’d been dealing with them for years and it rarely went that smoothly. Did he have to be good at everything? It was pissing her off.

  “Then I’ll follow you,” he replied easily. “I’m going to a meeting in about an hour.”

  “How did you do that?” She hated herself for asking the question but she couldn’t hold it in. “What’s your secret for dealing with my parents?”

  He sat down next to her on the couch, his expression gentle. He lifted the cup of tea to her lips. “Drink some more, okay? As for what I did? A couple of things. First, I deal with people every day in my job so I’ve learned a lot about what makes people calm and what gets them angry. But the real secret is that I’m not invested, good girl.”