by Cat Johnson
“So, Tuck. I asked Emma to be my date tomorrow and she said yes.” Jace’s declaration brought Logan’s head around from his visual search for the phone directory.
Tuck glanced at Logan before saying to Jace, “Really? I didn’t know you were planning that.”
“I didn’t know it myself, until I got a look at her in that dress.”
Logan set his jaw, trying not to punch Jace in his grinning mouth for talking about Tuck’s sister-in-law like some piece of ass he’d picked up at a bar.
“You do know my parents invited Jacqueline’s whole family to the wedding, right?”
“Uh, what?” Jace looked ready to vomit up his bourbon at Tuck’s news.
Logan sifted through his alcohol-soaked brain and retrieved a fuzzy memory. Jacqueline was the girl Jace had dated for years, until they broke up a year or so ago. Judging by how Jace had paled at the mention of her name, the breakup hadn’t been all smooth sailing.
“They belong to our church, so my parents invited them.”
“And are they coming?” Jace swallowed hard. “All of them?”
“Yup. You gonna be okay with her being there?” Tuck eyed Jace, probably afraid there could be trouble with the two ex-lovers in the same room.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be? We’re still friends. We talk. She’s called me a few times when she needed help with something or another.”
If that were all true, then why didn’t Jace look happy? Could it be because his former girlfriend who still called him would be there while he was on a date with another woman? Logan got the distinct feeling Jace had hoped to have his pie and eat it, too. Have what fun he could with Emma while she was in town, all without Jacqueline ever knowing. That way after Emma left town, Jace could go back to whatever post-breakup dance he and his ex-girlfriend were doing together.
If that had been Jace’s plan, Logan took great satisfaction that it had been ruined. Emma deserved better than that. She deserved a date to the wedding who would be focused solely on her. Logan could definitely have been that guy. The army was the only other commitment in Logan’s life, and this weekend he was on official leave, so even Uncle Sam wouldn’t demand his attention.
Still looking disturbed, Jace took another big swallow out of his cup and then glanced at the desk where the booze was spread out. “I need another drink.”
Logan would bet he did. He couldn’t help his smile as stone-faced Jace made a beeline for the bar. “Hmm. Interesting turn of events with Jace’s girlfriend being there tomorrow.”
“Isn’t it?” Tuck laughed. “So . . . did I kick that door open wide enough for you?”
“What door would that be?”
“The one Emma’s behind. Now that Jace will be worried about Jacqueline being there, you and she might get that walk through the rose garden after all. That is what you’re hoping for, no?”
So much for his poker face. Logan laughed. “I can’t fool you, can I?”
“No more than I could fool you.”
Logan shook his head. “Guess not. But damn, open door or not, I’m going to be useless tomorrow if I don’t get home, find some water and aspirin, and get some sleep.”
“Come on, I’ll drive you. I need to get out of here, too. Knowing Becca, she’s waiting up for me.”
Knowing Jace, and that he was partially in charge of this bachelor party, Logan didn’t blame her. “Can you drive?”
“Yeah. I only had one beer here. I switched to this hours ago.” Tuck raised his cup of pop.
“Okay. Then let’s go.” His own bed, or at least the bed in his old room at his parents’ house, sounded very good to Logan about now.
“Just let me tell Jace and Tyler I’m leaving.”
Logan leaned against the door as Tuck said his goodbyes, amid plenty of protest from the guests that the groom shouldn’t leave his own party.
Most of the guys were so drunk, Tuck was able to skirt the issue and get away. “All right. We can go.”
“Good.” Because the sleepy stage of being drunk was starting to creep up on Logan, and he could hardly keep his eyes open.
“It was good to see you loosen up tonight.” Tuck grinned as Logan stumbled out the hotel door and toward the parked truck.
“Don’t get too used to it.” Good chance Logan wouldn’t be drinking again for a long time. And once the semester began and they were surrounded by ROTC cadets, he’d have to act more like Tuck’s superior officer than his friend.
“Believe me, I won’t. But it was nice tonight.” Still wearing a smile, Tuck clicked open the door locks.
The truck ride lulled Logan into a hypnotic state. Before he knew it, Tuck was jostling him.
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.” Tuck’s voice came from across the dark cab. “You want me to drive you right to your door?”
Logan dragged himself up from sleep and realized the truck was parked in the Jenkins drive. He straightened his spine, stretching sore muscles. It hadn’t been a long drive from the hotel to the house, but it had obviously been long enough for him to fall asleep, or pass out, and for his back to get stiff. “Nah. Thanks. I can walk home.”
“You sure? It’s dark. Don’t want you to trip and fall.”
“Yes, smart ass. I’m sure. I’ll be fine. It’s almost the full moon.” Logan glanced over and saw the swath of illumination from the floodlight outside his parents’ house next door. “And Mom left the porch light on for me.”
This felt like he was a kid again. Hanging out at the Jenkins house until after dark, and then walking home across their lawns by the glow of a single bulb.
“All right. Don’t want you to break something before tomorrow.” Even in the dimness of the truck, Logan could see Tuck’s cocky grin.
“I won’t.” Logan reached for the handle and swung the passenger door wide. Before he stepped down, he turned back to Tuck. “Have fun explaining the late hour and that stripper to your bride.”
Tuck groaned. “Thanks.”
With a smile of satisfaction, Logan got out, slammed the door shut, and aimed slightly wobbly legs for home. He did pretty well. The path he walked wasn’t exactly straight, but he didn’t trip and end up facedown in the grass so Logan was feeling real proud of himself as he neared the mecca that was his bed.
“Logan! Wait up.” Tara’s voice had him stopping in mid-step before he’d crossed the property line.
“Tara?” He turned and saw her jogging toward him. “What are doing creeping around in the middle of the night?”
She came to a stop in front of him and swayed a bit. When she reached out and regained her balance with a hand braced on his chest, Logan figured it out. Tara was drunker than he was. Or at least more unsteady. “I was sitting on the back porch and heard you and Tuck in the drive.”
He grabbed her hands to stop her as she moved them down his sides. “You shouldn’t be up. It’s late and tomorrow is a big day.”
“I know. My big bro is getting married.” Tara was dressed in a shirt he’d never seen before, and it allowed him to see much more of her than he wanted to.
He yanked his eyes up and away from her cleavage. This girl was and always would be in the sister category in his mind. “What I meant, Tara, was that I think we both need to get to bed.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Wearing a sly smile, she took a step closer.
As she pressed against him, Logan stepped back. “Tara. You’ve had too much to drink.”
“Don’t sound so judgmental about it. Everyone else was drunk, too.” She dropped her hands and folded her arms across her chest.
This was good. He could handle an angry Tara much better than an amorous one. Now that the immediate danger of her fondling him had passed, what she’d said struck him. “Everyone else is drunk, too? Like who?”
When he and the guys had left the party to go to the hotel for Tuck’s bachelor party, there’d been friends and relatives milling around drinking coffee and eating cake. What could have possibly happened after that to get everyon
e drunk? Shots of after dinner cordials? Doubtful.
“We girls went out for drinks for Becca’s bachelorette party. It was Emma’s idea.”
The mention of Emma got Logan’s attention. He pictured how different things might have been if Emma had appeared out of the darkness and wrapped her arms around him instead of Tara. That thought had his body starting to wake up, just when he’d assumed it was as drunk as his brain and ready for sleep.
“Is Emma staying here with Becca tonight?” He glanced at the house, and pictured Emma inside.
“Nah, we had the cab drop her at the hotel then bring us home. Becca’s in Tuck’s room, and because she won’t let him see her in the morning before the wedding, Tuck’s on the sleeper sofa in the den. Full house over here, but your house isn’t. And your room is all the way at the other end of the hall from your parents’ room.” Tara ran her hand up his chest.
“Tara, listen to me. You need to turn around, go inside, and head directly for bed. Your own bed. Tuck and your parents are counting on you to be in top shape for tomorrow.”
“But I’m not tired.” She pouted, which reminded him of a time when she was five and he’d told her she couldn’t play baseball with the big boys.
“Then just lie down and close your eyes.” He’d used that line a few times during his babysitting days when Tara and Tyler had refused to go to sleep. Hopefully it worked as well with drunks as with children. With a hand on each shoulder he turned her to face her house.
She glanced back over her shoulder, her lids sagging heavily over her eyes. “Want to join me?”
Logan was truly in hell.
“No.” He hadn’t used the scary commander tone that he used with cadets, but it was stern enough to leave no doubt that what she’d suggested was not happening.
“Party pooper.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
She took a few steps and then called back. “See you tomorrow. Save me a dance at the wedding.”
Logan had a bad feeling all of this—the drinking, the flirting—was going to be repeated tomorrow and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Feeling a lot more sober now, he watched until Tara disappeared around the corner of the house, and then he made his way to the safety of his own parents’ home unmolested. The whole way there he envisioned Emma, back in her hotel room after the bachelorette party, all tipsy and tempting in a big king-sized bed all alone.
Good thing Emma wasn’t spending the night with Becca, temptingly close next door. So close Logan might have been tempted to knock on her window. Maybe invite her on a moonlight stroll in the rose garden. Drunk as he was, he could have done it. Probably the only thing that would have stopped him was the fear of running into Tara again.
The encounter with Tara, and now all these thoughts of Emma, had knocked the weariness right out of Logan. That figured. Chances were he wouldn’t fall asleep anytime soon. He’d be tired and hung over tomorrow for the wedding.
Resigned to his fate, he headed for bed. Logan had faced worse in his career. He’d get through this.
Chapter Four
“Ugh.” Emma glared at her reflection in the hallway mirror. “Becca, next time you get married, can it be in a month when the relative humidity is less than eighty-percent? Would you please look at my hair?”
Halfway up the staircase in the Jenkins house, Becca paused and cocked a brow. “There isn’t going to be a next time. I’m getting married once and only once. And your hair looks fine, just like it always does, so stop worrying. I have to touch up my nail polish. I somehow managed to chip a nail last night.”
Probably when they all stumbled into the taxi to get home after the shots at the bar. Emma had woken up in her hotel room this morning feeling less than stellar. The cotton mouth, headache, and exhaustion she could handle, but not having a bad hair day. Today’s wedding pictures would be around for decades and Emma was going to look good for them even if it killed her.
She glanced into the mirror again and sighed. She’d been planning to leave it down, but the weather had managed to make even her pin-straight hair do some puffy, frizzy kind of thing she was not happy with.
It was early in the day. They didn’t need to get dressed and leave for the church for a little while yet. She could still make a change.
Emma called up the stairs after her sister, “Maybe I should run into town and see if someone at the salon can do a quick up-do.”
“You look beautiful. I wouldn’t change a thing.” A very male voice behind Emma had her spinning around.
“Logan. Uh, hi.” Emma swallowed hard. She’d been caught complaining and by Logan of all people. “Thank you. That’s sweet of you to say.”
She smoothed the skirt of the sundress she’d thrown on at the hotel to wear until it was time to put on the official maid of honor dress that was hanging upstairs next to Becca’s wedding gown.
“You’re very welcome and it’s true.” He held a big box in his hands, but Emma was more interested in noticing how his dark eyes had swept her from head to toe. “So I’m here on a very important errand on behalf of the groom, since he’s not to come within twenty feet of this house.”
Emma smiled. “That’s right. Becca won’t let Tuck see her until she walks down the aisle.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of that. He woke me up at dawn knocking on my door after he was kicked out of here because he’s not allowed to see Becca. So where would you like it?”
Emma would like it in the bedroom, and in the shower, and maybe in that hammock in the back yard—but Logan probably was talking about the box, not sex. “I don’t know. What is it?”
“The flowers. I took out the boutonnières for the groomsmen, so all the rest are for you ladies here. Oh, and I also left in the corsages and boutonnières for the parents of the bride and the parents of the groom.”
“Impressive organization. Thank you.” Emma smiled. A man who was organized and hot was a rare find indeed.
“Eh, it’s nothing. Seems like planning a wedding isn’t all that much different from planning a mission, and that I’ve been well trained for.” He shrugged, the brown cardboard box still in his hands.
She cringed and glanced around the foyer, at a loss. “Sorry. You need to put that somewhere. I guess the flowers should go in the fridge so they don’t wilt, but it’s pretty packed with last night’s leftovers.”
“Not a problem. I can solve that. Follow me.” Logan tilted his head toward the back of the house. He led Emma to the door that opened into the garage. “Can you just grab the door?”
“Sure.” She swung it wide enough for him to walk through with the oversized box.
He glanced over his shoulder as she followed. “There’s an extra fridge out here and I’m betting it’s turned on because of the party last night.”
Emma hadn’t noticed the big white fridge humming against the wall. She’d been too busy ogling Logan’s butt. She hated to admit it, but Tara was right—Logan did look really good in jeans. The worn denim pulled just tight enough across his ass to make her mouth water. Then there was that kind of swagger that the cowboy boots put into his every step.
Emma wrestled her attention away from his assets and back to what should be her priority given her position as maid of honor—keeping Becca’s bridal bouquet from dying before the ceremony. She skirted around him to pull open the refrigerator door and sure enough a cloud of cold air drifted out.
“Wow. I had no idea this was even out here. You’re handy to have around.” She shot him what she hoped was a casual and maybe a little bit sexy smile.
This flirting business required a light hand and a delicate balance. Juggling flirting and flowers—good thing she’d had coffee that morning so she was alert enough to handle it all.
“I try.” He laughed and put the box down on a tool chest while Emma bent to move a few six-packs of soda and beer to the bottom shelf so the flowers would fit on the top one.
“Well, you do a very good job.” She turned
, prepared to do some more flirting while she had the chance, when she came face to face with the bouquet Logan held out.
She stopped and stared as her throat grew tight from the sight and smell of the floral arrangement. She and Becca had gone through dress fittings and a bridal shower in New York together, but it hadn’t truly hit Emma until she saw those perfect white roses punctuated by the deep blue delphiniums and dark green ivy in Becca’s bridal bouquet. That’s when it felt real.
Her little sister was getting married today. Never again would they be the two single sisters, banded together against the world. No more girls’ night out. Becca was Tucker’s now.
“Emma?”
At the sound of Logan saying her name, Emma snapped back to reality. She reached out to take the flowers and realized her hand was shaking.
“Sorry. I’m just being a girlie girl. Getting choked up about Becca’s flowers. Silly, huh?” She forced out a wobbly laugh.
She bent to put the bouquet in the fridge and while hidden by the door, swiped at the moisture in her eyes. There was no way she was going to cry in front of Logan. Especially not over a stupid bouquet.
“Not at all. You know, right before I left my house Tuck was putting on his tuxedo. Seeing him, standing there all decked out and looking like a groom, I got a little choked up myself. I’ve seen him in his dress uniform a dozen times, but the tuxedo and the boutonnière? It kinda got to me.” Logan shrugged and looked absolutely adorable. “Guess I’m a girlie girl, too, huh?”
“No. Definitely not.” That idea made Emma laugh. He was possibly the manliest man she’d ever met, even when holding a handful of flowers.
“All right. I’ll take your word for it.” His smile made her heart flutter.
She took the next bouquet he handed her and put it in the fridge, changing the subject until she could get her emotions under control. “Tucker’s dressed in his tux already?”
Between worrying about her hair, and lusting after Logan, had it gotten later than she’d thought?