by Debbie Mason
The last thing Logan wanted to do was drag Jenna into this, but it had become patently clear that Ryan Wilson had an ax to grind against the Gallaghers and he was going to use Logan to sharpen the blade. He frowned as what his brother said sank in. “Jenna’s drunk?”
After the day she’d had, he didn’t know why it surprised him that she’d drown her sorrows at the bar, but it kind of did. Probably because of her big, innocent eyes and sweet girl-next-door vibe.
“Yeah. Shay says Arianna and Serena headed straight to the pub after they were released and tore into her. They assumed she’d lock up the shop. Guess she didn’t.”
Looking across the street at Tie the Knot as he got out of the SUV, Logan slammed the car door in frustration. “Because she went to find you for me, and I texted Shay to keep her at the pub.” And she’d hurt herself on account of him too. He’d kept an eye on her while Wilson arrested him and saw her fall and limp her way down the street. “You’d better come up with another way to get me out of this. I’m not using Jenna.”
“What do you mean, using her? All you’re doing is asking her to call Lorenzo and get him to drop the charges against you.”
“You were at the station, right? Do you honestly believe he’ll drop the charges if all Jenna does is ask?” He caught the grimace his brother tried to hide. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. He’ll want the ring and her wedding gown. To give to her stepmother.” Logan cracked his knuckles. “I should’ve punched him harder. It might’ve turned him into a decent human being.”
“Okay, that’s good.”
Logan stopped on the sidewalk. “You want me to punch him again?”
“No, of course I don’t. But if we end up in court, I’ll use the fact that your fists are lethal weapons and you could’ve killed the guy had you wanted to. Which proves you were defending the women, not acting as Jenna’s hired thug, as Wilson and Lorenzo claimed.”
Logan dragged a weary hand down his face. “I’ll have to call my supervisor. I’ll probably be put on administrative leave until this is settled.”
“Don’t call him yet. You have an exemplary record. You don’t want this on there. Hold off for a couple days. It’s the weekend, and Aidan figures he can buy you some time. And, bro, as much as you don’t want to hear this, Jenna is your best bet for making this go away.”
“No, it’s on me. I hit him. I’ll pay him off.”
“Don’t even think about going there. You’ll be handing Wilson the evidence he needs to bury you.”
“You’re right. You’re right. What’s the guy got against the Gallaghers anyway?”
“Aidan’s going to dig deeper, but he thinks it has something to do with GG.”
Knowing GG, their cousin Aidan was probably right. Colleen Gallagher, their great-grandmother, better known as GG, had been a shit disturber of epic proportions when she was alive. She’d also been one of Logan’s favorite people. Some of his best memories were from the summers and holidays he’d spent at Greystone Manor, the family’s estate. Built to resemble a medieval castle, the manor was situated on five thousand acres of woodland and oceanfront property west of Harmony Harbor. It now served as a hotel.
If Colleen had had her way, every single member of the extended Gallagher family would be living in Harmony Harbor. Nineteen months ago, she’d died at the age of a hundred and four, leaving everything to Logan, his brothers, and his cousins. There was a catch though. They all had to agree to keep the estate in the family or sell. So far, his four cousins and his baby brother were on the Save Greystone Team. Logan didn’t have a strong opinion either way, but he highly doubted they’d get all the cousins on board, especially his uncle Daniel’s girls. They’d rarely spent time at the manor.
Then again, Logan had learned never to underestimate his great-grandmother. Even from the grave she seemed to be controlling them…and the town. Her memoir, The Secret Keeper of Harmony Harbor, had been missing since the day she died. As the title indicated, GG had spent decades poking her nose in everyone’s business. Which meant she’d no doubt ticked off a fair number of people. He couldn’t help but wonder if that included members of Ryan Wilson’s family.
“Aidan should hunt down GG’s memoirs. He’d probably find what he’s looking for there,” Logan suggested.
“No doubt. Word of advice though. Don’t mention GG’s memoirs to anyone in town. It’s calmed down some, but those first few months after she died, people were tearing apart the manor to find the book.” Michael looked around and lowered his voice as a young couple walked past. “Between you and me, I think her memoirs have been found.”
“It makes sense Jasper would know where the book is. He and GG were thick as thieves.” The seventysomething man had worked for the Gallagher family for as long as any of them could remember. A strict disciplinarian with stiff upper-crust manners, he’d managed both the manor and the Gallagher great-grandchildren. Yet while he was tough and not overly demonstrative, they’d never doubted he loved them and had their backs.
“Yeah, and speaking of thick as thieves, Mom and the Widows Club have picked the manor’s Bachelor of the Month.”
“And this is important how?”
“Because it’s you.” Michael lifted his phone and swiped his finger across the screen, turning it to Logan. “Hello, Mr. June.”
It was a picture of Logan from a few years back at Kismet Cove. He’d been rising from the surf when the photo was taken. He scowled at his brother, who laughed and said, “Looks like a cover shot for Men’s Health. Women must like the wet and half-naked look. Supposedly you’ve got more hits than me, and I crashed the manor’s website more than once.”
“So you didn’t think my day was bad enough; you had to share this too? Just tell me they’re not auctioning me off like they did you?” He glanced at his conspicuously silent brother and bowed his head. “I talked about this to Mom. I’m too busy with work to think about dating. I shouldn’t even be here this weekend.”
“Yeah, well, dating isn’t her main objective—or Grams’s and the Widows Club’s for that matter. They want you married by the end of this summer.”
“You can’t be serious.” Sadly, he knew that Michael was, and so were the older women. “You gave them a false sense of success, baby brother. I’m not interested in dating right now.”
“They don’t care. They have an agenda and…” Michael stopped by the wooden sailboat mast attached to the redbrick wall of the Salty Dog. His voice had lost its teasing tone, his expression now serious. “It’s starting to feel like Mom’s on a deadline. Like she won’t rest until she sees the three of us happily married before the year is out. I’m worried she might be dying.”
Maura, their mother, was the reason Logan had come home for the weekend. They’d known something was up in February but hadn’t been able to figure out exactly what. She’d left their dad, her husband of forty years, with the excuse that she’d been derelict in her duties as a mother and it was time to devote her life to ensuring her three sons were settled and happily married. To the women of her choosing, of course.
Michael had been the subject of Maura’s matchmaking attention for the past few months. Recently, when it began looking like Logan was next in line, he’d decided it was time to get to the bottom of what was driving her. Not in a million years had he expected to discover she was sick. “Why do you think she’s dying?” Logan clipped out.
“You don’t have to take off my head. I’m as upset about it as you are.”
“Sorry. Have you talked to her or Dad about your suspicions?”
“No, but I was hoping we could do that this weekend. Connor’s coming to the manor tomorrow for Sunday brunch.”
Connor was the middle son, a high-powered Boston attorney with a passion for all things expensive, including fast cars and even faster women. In some ways, he was most like their father and mother. The three of them liked the good life. They were addicted to power and control. Although their dad had mellowed over the past few years and had r
ecently retired. Logan had assumed his retirement was the real reason their mother had left him, focusing all her energy on them to fill the void. Now he wasn’t so sure.
“This weekend just keeps getting better and better,” Logan said.
“I know, and I don’t want to put any more pressure on you. I really don’t. But if Mom is sick, she doesn’t need to be worrying about you losing your job. You know how proud she is of you, especially now that you’re working the president’s security detail. So do us all a favor, yourself included, and talk to Jenna. If you’re uncomfortable asking her to call Lorenzo, I’ll do it or Shay will.”
As much as he hated to admit it, Michael was right. The news would upset their mother whether she was sick or not. “I’ll talk to Jenna.”
Michael opened the door to the pub. Shay was behind the bar, looking unhappy as she stared across the room to where the music played a loud, sexy beat. A wooden wall blocked their view of the stage.
His brother raised his voice to be heard over the rowdy cheers coming from the other end of the pub. “Good. I’m sure Jenna will be more than happy to make the call, Logan. Knowing her like I’ve come to, she’d probably be more upset if she found out she could’ve helped and you didn’t ask her.”
“Just don’t expect me to ask if she’s crying in her beer. I’m more comfortable handling an assassination attempt than I am a woman in tears,” he yelled back.
Michael stopped halfway to the bar and did a double take. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”
Logan followed the direction of his brother’s gaze, and his eyes went wide. Jenna stood on the raised stage twirling the bottom of her wedding gown over her head. The top part of her dress remained, and a very short crinoline thing acted as the skirt, revealing long, shapely legs in her glass shoes. To the delight of the crowd gathered around her, she tossed them the bottom part of her gown.
“Okay, so it looks like Lorenzo won’t be getting the dress. Maybe he…” Logan trailed off when Jenna took a sexy stroll to the pole in the center of the stage. Sending an exaggerated wink over her shoulder to the cheering crowd, she tossed her hair and then walked straight into the pole, bouncing off of it.
“I’m okay. I’m okay.” She waved off the audience’s concern while holding her nose.
“Cherry, get her off the stage now,” Shay called out in a voice that even Logan wouldn’t have argued with.
Michael stuck his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts, grinning like a fool at his fiancée. “God, you’re hot.”
Shay rolled her eyes at him, but Logan caught the small uptick at the corner of her mouth. Well, it had been tipped up until she realized Cherry had no intention of removing Jenna from the stage. At that moment, she was boosting the younger woman up the pole.
“This isn’t going to end well,” Logan murmured as he set off to rescue Cinderella from herself.
By the time he made his way to the front of the stage, she’d managed to turn herself upside down, those sexy legs of hers wrapped tightly around the pole. Cherry clapped like a proud mother, and the audience cheered.
Jenna responded to the applause with a grin, a little like the one his brother had given to Shay. Only Jenna didn’t look like a fool. She looked adorably cute. Then, as though to give the audience their money’s worth, she tightened her arms around the pole, taking what looked like a deep breath before jutting out one leg.
“Woo-hoo!” she yelled, obviously pleased she hadn’t fallen on her head. She kicked her foot and her glass shoe went flying. Logan stretched out a hand, catching it before it hit the redhead in front of him.
“Thanks,” the woman said over her shoulder and then blinked up at him. “It’s you. Hey, look everybody, it’s Prince Charming. Wilson arrested him for protecting Jellilicious this afternoon.”
At the news, he received offers of free drinks and several shoulder pats. Jellilicious was clearly a fan favorite.
“Logan, you’re here!” Jenna yelled, and in her excitement, she lost her grip on the pole.
Logan jumped onto the stage, reaching her just in time to save her from breaking her neck.
“My hero,” she said, the words slightly slurred as she smiled up at him.
He would’ve returned her smile, but he got a look at her ankle. Scooping her into his arms, he straightened. “You should’ve been resting your foot, not dancing on it.”
She wiggled her bare toes. “No pain. It feels wonderful, and so do you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck with that adorable smile still on her face.
“We’ll see how you feel in the morning once the alcohol wears off.”
“You’re a buzzkill.”
“Yeah?” He laughed as he carried her off the stage. “In your case, I think that’s a good thing. Your buzz needs to be killed. How about some coffee?”
“I’d rather have more sex on the beach.” Clearly, his surprise was evident on his face because her smile widened, showing off a dimple in her cheek. “It’s a drink, silly. And it’s so good, I bet it’s better than actual sex on the beach. At least sex on the beach with Lorenzo. You know, Italian men are supposed to be passionate, but he wasn’t. At least with me he wasn’t. He’s probably passionate with Gwyneth, my stepmother.” She drew her arms from around his neck to flap her hands in front of her face. “Eww, eww, eww. I never thought about that. What if he was having sex with both of us? You don’t think he’d—”
“Probably best if you don’t think about it.” At least while she was in his arms. His search for an empty table was taking longer than it should. With her running commentary about sex, he was having a hard time thinking straight. It didn’t help that he hadn’t had sex in a while and she had her tight little body wrapped around him. She smelled as sweet as she looked, like oranges and white chocolate.
“You’re right, but I can’t seem to help it. You know what Cherry would say?”
He’d spent some time with Shay and her best friend, so he had a fairly good idea how Cherry’s mind worked, which was why he kept quiet and settled Jenna onto a barrel. “You stay put.” He pulled another barrel over. “I’ll grab you a cup of coffee and an ice pack. Get you something to eat too.”
As he placed her foot gently on the barrel, she reached over and fisted her hand in the front of his T-shirt, tugging him so they were almost nose-to-nose. “You’re supposed to ask, what would Cherry say, Jellilicious? That’s my stripper name. You know what? I’m going to call myself Jellilicious all the time. It’s sexy, don’t you think? Way better than Jenna. Jenna sounds like the plain Jane next door who worked at the library and was the nerdy girl in high school.” She sighed. “I was all three, so my mom must’ve known something when she named me. Or maybe I was just trying to live up to the name. What do you think?”
As he carefully removed one finger at a time from his T-shirt, relieved that she seemed to have forgotten her initial question, he said, “Your mom knew exactly what she was doing. Jenna’s a pretty name for a pretty lady. Now, I’ll just be a few min—”
Once again, her fingers closed around the fabric of his T-shirt, and she pulled him closer. For a little thing, she was surprisingly strong and tenacious. “You can’t go until you ask me what Cherry would say.”
“How about I ask Cherry once she’s finished with her lessons?” He lifted his chin to where the woman in question was instructing a couple of ladies and one man on the art of pole dancing.
Jenna chewed on her bottom lip and then leaned forward, bringing her mouth to his ear. “Cherry would say the best way to get the image of Lorenzo and Gwyneth having sex out of my head is to have it with you. What do you think?”
“No. That’s not a good idea. Not a good idea at all. It’s actually a really, really bad idea, Jenna. You’ve had too much to drink, and you’ve had a shock.”
She lifted a shoulder. “It’s okay. I knew you wouldn’t want to have sex with me. You’re beautiful, and beautiful men aren’t interested in women like me. I mean, look at Lorenzo. He’s
beautiful, and he dumped me for my stepmother. She’s gorgeous, you know. Her boobs…” She put her hands on either side of her head, nodding. “Yep, they’re about the size of my head. Daddy bought them for her on their tenth wedding anniversary. She thought I should get mine done too, but”—she cupped her breasts—“I’m too petite to have ginormous boobs. Now, Cherry, she suits hers, don’t you think?”
“You’re killing me here, Jenna.”
She angled her head to the side and smiled. “I like you, Logan Gallagher. You’re a very nice man, and you’re my hero. Thank you for rescuing me twice.”
“I think I might have just rescued you a third time, Jenna Bell.” From himself.
Chapter Five
After consuming her fourth cup of coffee and her third cheese-stuffed pretzel, Jenna began to feel the throb in her ankle and the heat of embarrassment washing over her cheeks. It was too bad her now-sobering brain couldn’t delete her drunken propositioning of Logan. From under her lashes, she glanced at the man sitting across from her at the table in the darkened corner of the Salty Dog.
He was more ruggedly handsome than beautiful, she thought, blaming her earlier perception on her fancy-drink goggles, acknowledging that Cherry might have a point and they had a pink hue. Although Jenna was color-blind, so she really didn’t know if the hue was pink, green, or somewhere in between. What she did know from intently studying the man sitting across from her for the past hour was that Logan’s features were strong and masculine. His dark-as-night hair was cut military short, a five-o’clock shadow darkening his chiseled jaw. The only thing the least bit soft or feminine about him was his long, dark lashes that framed his extraordinary eyes.
He glanced at her, and she decided she was wrong. His eyes were beautiful, as beautiful as his deep, smoky voice, which caused her nerve endings to sizzle and the muscles low in her stomach to contract when he spoke to his brother, Michael, who sat beside him.