Two Times as Hot

by Cat Johnson

  Becca probably should have been born the older sibling. Some strange twist of fate or nature had put Emma in the wrong position in the Hart sibling lineup.

  “Emma, why would I know the bars around here? I live in Stillwater.”

  “So?” Emma asked.

  “So, Miss New York is the Center of the Universe, we’re a couple of hours away from Stillwater here. I’ve only come to visit Tucker’s parents a few times, and we don’t take them out barhopping while we’re here.”

  “Maybe you should.” Emma scowled as she got another look at Tara pawing Logan. “When are the guys leaving for the bachelor party?”

  “I don’t know. Soon, I guess.” Becca glanced at the cow-shaped wall clock hanging above the kitchen cabinets. “At least, I hope it’s soon. I don’t want Tucker out all night. He’ll have dark circles under his eyes for the pictures tomorrow.”

  Emma sent her sister a glance. That’s what Becca was most worried about? That Tuck would look tired in the wedding photos? She should be more worried about what kind of adult entertainment his twenty-something, single brother, Tyler, who was also the best man, had come up with.

  Best to keep that reality check to herself. Emma knew Becca too well to bring up that. Her sister could worry herself into a hysterical tizzy in no time, and Emma knew who would have to play babysitter to the nervous bride all night.

  Nope. Best to go out and get them both drunk enough to forget about what might or might not be going on at that stag party. And while she was at it, Emma wouldn’t mind feeling out Tara to see what was going on between her and Logan.

  In vino veritas. In wine was truth. Emma noted Tara was drinking beer, not wine. She didn’t know the Latin for beer, but she figured enough of any alcohol would work just as well as a truth serum.

  “I think we should ask your new sister-in-law where there’s a fun bar. She’s the right age to be going out partying. She must know a good place.” Emma put into action her plan to get Tara drunk to draw some information out of her.

  “Why are you so eager to go out?” Becca frowned.

  “Because my only sister is getting married tomorrow and I’m her maid of honor. It’s my job to make sure you have one last girls’ night out. The boys get to have a bachelor party, so you need a bachelorette party. Tit for tat.” When Becca didn’t look convinced, Emma added, “Besides, it’s pretty selfish of you to deny me the opportunity to go out and see some hot Oklahoma cowboy scenery while I’m here, just because you’ve already found your perfect man. You owe me for that, you know. Need I remind you who’s responsible for your meeting Tucker?”

  “I know. You are.” Becca rolled her eyes. “You’re going to remind me of that until the day we die, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe if you’ll just agree to let me take you out on the town tonight, I could be convinced to never mention it again.” Emma dangled that hint of a promise like a carrot.

  “Fine, go and talk to Tara about a bar. Though I don’t know why you’re looking for a cowboy or any other man. You agreed to go to the reception as Jace’s date. A fact you seem to keep forgetting.”

  Emma dismissed Becca’s criticism with a wave of one hand. “I only agreed to that so I could show him what he can’t have.”

  “I’ll never understand you.” Becca shook her head.

  “As it should be. My brilliance shall remain a mystery. So we’re going out then?” Emma asked just to confirm she’d won this battle.

  “Yes. But we’re not staying out too late. I don’t want to have bags under my eyes for the pictures, either.”

  “That, dear sister, is what makeup is for.” Emma grinned and saw through the kitchen doorway that the men had begun to gather in the front foyer. “Looks like the herd is forming for the stag party exodus. You go kiss your man good-bye and then grab your bar purse.”

  “I didn’t pack a special purse for barhopping. I’ll have to use my regular one.”

  That figured. Becca never thought ahead about fashion necessities the way Emma did. She, of course, had packed not one but two small purses for going out. They were just big enough for her ID, lipstick, some cash, and a cell phone.

  “I’ll loan you one of mine. Now, go. Say good-bye to Tucker. I’m going to talk to Tara about the local hotspots.” Emma headed toward Tara. The girl had finally released her hold on Logan so he could join the rest of the guys.

  Emma donned what she hoped was a smile that appeared sincere and prepared to make nice, satisfied this evening was going to go her way.

  An hour later, it was obvious the night was not going at all as Emma had planned.

  “Logan looked great tonight, didn’t he?”

  Emma couldn’t stifle her sigh at Tara’s dreamy-eyed question. “I don’t know. Did he?”

  “He totally did. I was away at school all year. I haven’t seen him in what feels like forever.” Across the tiny cocktail table in the dark corner of the bar, Tara sighed. “He looks so good out of uniform. I wish he’d just retire. Then he could move back home again and work at his pa’s shop.” Tara looked to Emma for a comment.

  Emma had to scramble to come up with something to say. “Sorry. I only met him tonight so I don’t have a basis of comparison on how good he looks, in or out of uniform.” Though she wouldn’t mind seeing him out of his uniform, and she didn’t mean in his civilian clothes either.

  Tara nodded. “Jeans look so much better on him. Even the khaki dress pants he had on tonight are an improvement over those camouflage pants he and Tuck wear.”

  “Well, that’s the uniform. It’s my understanding they have to wear it. It’s, you know, kind of the rules.” Emma had tried to temper her answer, but it still came out sounding snarky. Luckily, Tara didn’t seem to notice.

  Damn, had Emma ever been this young and naïve? Maybe a million years ago. She willed Becca to hurry back from the ladies room before she lost patience with the college coed with the stars—or rather Logan—in her eyes.

  “I know it’s their uniform, but I’m used to Logan from before he joined the military.” Tara’s voice took on a faraway quality. “When we were younger, Logan was always in jeans and a cowboy hat. He had this old pair of boots that he loved. He said he’d never find a pair like them again so he wore them until the sole flapped when he walked. Even then he didn’t want to part with them. He nailed the sole back on and wore them until his mother made him stop.”

  Instead of the country song blaring out of the jukebox, Emma wouldn’t have been surprised to hear a sappy soundtrack to accompany Tara’s memories. Violins or maybe a harp, like the background music from a television show dream sequence.

  It was obvious the girl was lost in the distant past. Her crush on Logan had apparently been the result of a surge of prepubescent hormones. Tara wanted the Logan of her youth back. The young cowboy version, not the mature adult soldier he was now.

  In Emma’s opinion, Tara was barking up the wrong tree. Logan had to be in his mid to late thirties, so he was obviously a career military man. From what Becca had told her, he was an officer. He wasn’t going to up and retire to hang around in holey boots with Tara.

  Or maybe he would. Considering Emma’s bad track record with men, she might not know as much as she thought she did. After all, she never would have guessed Jace, or any living breathing man, would have given up a night of sex to change a flat tire.

  That depressing thought left Emma torn between calling it a night and ordering more drinks so she could get drunk enough to forget about this day. All of it. Every bad decision she’d made. Accepting Jace’s invite when her gut told her it was a bad idea. Noticing Logan when Tara was obviously already in love with him. And now, going out, just the three of them.

  “Hey. What did I miss?” Becca finally returned from the bathroom.

  About damn time. Becca had taken long enough that Emma regretted not going with her, but even as much as Emma had hated their conversation, it would have been rude to leave Tara sitting alone at the table.
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  Emma let out a sigh. “Nothing. Just talking about boots.”

  Becca sat. “You must be in heaven. You love boots.”

  “Not this kind.” The flat tone of Emma’s reply had Becca glancing at her.

  “Oh. Um, so, any interesting scenery show up while I was gone?” Changing the subject. Smart girl. Her sister knew Emma well enough to know when something was up.

  “What kind of scenery are you looking for?” Tara asked Becca.

  “Not for me, it’s for Em—” The kick in the shin under the table shut Becca up.

  Becca glared at Emma, who opened her eyes wide and mouthed, “Shut up.”

  Becca frowned and continued, “Um, you know. Just some authentic western scenery. Like farmers or . . . stuff. I want Emma to get the full Oklahoma experience while she’s here.”

  “Then you should take her to a rodeo. Logan used to take Tuck and Layne to rodeos all the time, back when Tyler and I were so little we had to fight to go along and not to be left home with Ma.”

  If this girl said the name Logan one more time . . .

  Emma gritted her teeth. “That sounds fun.”

  Becca shot Emma a glance and then turned to Tara. “Ah, we’ve actually both been to a rodeo. It’s where I met Tucker last year.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I heard that story. I’d forgotten because I assumed when I heard where he met you that you were a buckle bunny. Then when it turned out you weren’t . . .” Tara shrugged and let the sentence trail off.

  After that strange comment, Emma wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted on Becca’s behalf of not.

  Tara wrinkled her nose as she glanced at the collection of men gathered there. “You’ll find more guys at the bar on the other side of town. The one with the pool table. There are a few cowboys in here tonight. No one as cute as Logan, but at least there’s some authentic western scenery for you. That way when you’re back in New York you can say you saw some.”

  “Yup.” Oh, yeah. That would make a hell of a story for Emma to tell around the water cooler at work. How she went out and saw a guy in a cowboy hat sitting at a bar. Simply riveting.

  Emma drew in a deep breath. She was being ridiculous and acting like a child. She knew that. Honestly, Tara was being perfectly nice and polite. Tara didn’t know Emma was interested in getting to know Logan better. Why should she? Emma had only met him a few hours ago, had only spoken a handful of sentences to him. And, as Becca kept reminding her, Emma had a date with Jace. Aside from his unbelievably huge faux pas with her last year, Jace seemed to be a decent guy.

  So why wasn’t Emma happy to be going to the wedding with Jace?

  Because talking to Logan, even for that short time, had made her heart beat faster than it had in years, that’s why. What did that mean? Love at first sight? Or just lust because, like it or not, Tara was right—Logan had looked good in those khakis and the cotton button-down shirt that complemented his rugged suntanned complexion so perfectly.

  It must be Emma’s inner competitive spirit set off by the challenge Tara presented that had her blood pressure rising every time the girl mentioned Logan’s name. Certainly not what Emma feared—that after meeting Logan once, she’d developed a schoolgirl crush on him to rival even Tara’s.

  What if Emma had said no to Jace’s invitation? Or if the cell phone hadn’t rung with that call from Japan and she had gone outside for a walk in the rose garden with Logan? What if Emma didn’t give a flying fig that Tara had an insane crush on Logan—probably the biggest crush that Emma had ever witnessed firsthand—and went for it with him anyway?

  What if Emma was doomed to wonder for the rest of her life, what if? That would stink. There was nothing worse than living with regret.

  Maybe all this introspection was alcohol induced and by tomorrow, Emma would forget all about Logan. That would be good. She didn’t believe in love at first sight anyway. Lust maybe, but not love.

  Still, Emma decided to investigate that concept further. “Becs?”

  “Yes?” Becca looked a bit wary when she turned to Emma. She knew to tread lightly when Emma was cranky. Most likely Emma’s bad behavior tonight had given her sister that impression.

  “When you first met Tucker last year at the rodeo, did you know then, that night, that he was—you know—the one?”

  That brought Tara’s attention whipping back to the conversation at their table, just when she’d been busy looking around the bar, probably for someone better to hang out with.

  Okay, that was mean. Emma mentally took the nasty comment back and waited for Becca’s answer.

  “Looking back, I think I did feel it then, but I didn’t realize it. At least, I didn’t admit it to myself. I sure tried to keep it casual. Just a one-night”—Becca’s gaze moved to Tara as she cut herself off—“um, just a casual meeting.”

  Emma smiled at how Becca scurried to not tell Tucker’s little sister how she’d planned on one night of hot sex and nothing more.

  Tara leaned forward in her chair. “So then how did you and Tuck end up together?”

  “Once we saw each other again and I discovered we both worked at OSU—”

  “You couldn’t keep it casual anymore,” Tara finished.

  “No, we couldn’t. I guess it was inevitable we’d end up with each other. I just was too . . .” Becca searched for the word.

  “Stubborn?” Emma had no problem supplying it.

  “Yes, thank you.” The look Becca sent her was not at all grateful. “Too stubborn to realize it.”

  “That’s how I think it is with me and Logan. I can tell he’s trying to keep it casual, probably out of respect for my parents or something, but it’s inevitable we’ll end up together. I know we will. Hopefully by the end of tomorrow night.” Tara looked confident in her prediction.

  Unable to take any more of Tara’s youthful exuberance when it came to the topic of Logan, Emma stood. “I’m going to get us another round. We all ready? Maybe some shots, too. What kind do we want?”

  The room tilted slightly to the right, which made Logan’s decision for him. He’d considered standing up, but on second thought it might be best to stay sitting right there. Possibly all night.

  “Dude, another Alabama Slammer?” Tyler stood before him holding a glass shaker of something red in his hand.

  “No. Thanks.”

  “You want a different kind?” Tyler asked. “I’ve got Jaeger if you want.”

  “No. I’m good.” The four shots Logan had been talked into doing had been a bad idea to begin with.

  Shots—and sweet, red-colored ones at that—were for college kids and young guys like Tyler. Not for a man about to turn forty. Logan could handle his liquor, just not so much of it in so short a time and definitely not Alabama Slammers. Give him some straight bourbon or whisky. Or hell, even tequila. That Logan could metabolize. But sticky, sweet crap? Not so much.

  He probably should have eaten more at the party at the Jenkinses’, too. If he hadn’t been so busy drooling over Emma, and being pissed that Jace was doing the same, he might have enjoyed the food and had more.

  Not enough dinner, sugary sweet shots, and a belly full of beer—the perfect storm for one hell of a hangover tomorrow. Crap. Logan groaned when his fuzzy brain remembered what tomorrow was—Tuck’s wedding day.

  Jace and Tyler had gone all out in their planning for this shindig. A hotel room crowded with old friends, an exotic dancer—who had come and gone so fast that maybe they’d be able to get away with not telling the bride a stripper was ever there—beer and, of course, the infamous shots. But it was getting late.

  Logan frowned at his watch and realized it was harder to read than it should be. Damn, he was drunk. This party needed to break up. Or at least Tuck needed to quit drinking. The groom couldn’t crawl down the aisle reeking of booze and looking like death warmed over because he’d been out drunk all night. He scanned the crowd for Tuck and found him talking to Jace.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Logan braced a
hand on each arm of the chair and hoisted himself up. He stood for a second until he knew he could walk without stumbling, and then made his way over.

  “Logan. You need a drink?” Jace glanced down at Logan’s empty hands.

  “No, thanks.” Logan eyed the big red plastic cup in Tuck’s hand. “What are you drinking?”

  “Pop.”

  “Really?” He glanced into Tuck’s cup and saw it did indeed look like cola. “With bourbon in it?”

  Tuck laughed. “No. Just plain old soda pop. Becca would kill me if I was hung over tomorrow.”

  Well, crap. Logan had been trying to keep in the party spirit. As one of the groomsmen, it was his duty to participate in all the activities, but if the groom hadn’t even been drinking, then why the hell had he?

  Logan shook his head. “Then she’s not going to be too happy with me.” Good thing the wedding was later in the day or he’d be in big trouble.

  “You’ll be fine. She’s so happy this day is here, she won’t even notice that all the men are moving a little slow.” Tuck grinned.

  “And wearing sunglasses,” Jace added. “Nothing worse than a sunny day after a long night.”

  True that. Logan cringed at the thought of the headache he’d suffer from in the morning and glanced at Jace’s drink. “What’re you drinking?”

  “Unlike the groom here, my soda pop comes with bourbon.” Jace grinned and raised his cup. “I couldn’t handle any more of that red shit Tyler’s pouring.”

  Jace had been smarter than Logan, and that knowledge didn’t sit any better in his gut than those shots. At least Jace was drinking something alcoholic so Logan would have company in his hangover misery tomorrow. He should probably find some water and get home. Sooner rather than later.

  He glanced at the desk. There must be a phonebook in here somewhere. Hotel rooms had two things, a bible and a phonebook. He’d get his dose of the first at the church tomorrow during the ceremony, but right now he had to find the second because he really needed to call a cab.