by Cat Johnson
That was the beauty of living in a small town—places were close. People, too. He realized that as the night progressed. Rod demanded he buy Logan’s beer for him. Then Harry insisted Logan tell them all about Layne’s visit home, and Mack wanted to hear more about Logan’s position at OSU.
It seemed Logan’s dad spent the majority of his time at the VFW talking about him and Layne. Or maybe boasting was a better way to describe it. Either way, his dad had told the old guys all about Logan and Layne—their military service and their lives while they were away from their hometown. The man was obviously very proud of his two sons. It was something Logan hadn’t realized, but something he wouldn’t soon forget.
It was late by the time Logan navigated his truck through the dark deserted streets to his parents’ house. He’d drunk a couple of beers. Then stayed even longer, sipping on pop and listening to the vets tell war stories from their own eras. Before Logan knew it, it was past his usual bedtime. Who knew the old guys had such staying power? He’d always assumed they’d all be in bed by the end of the evening news, when here it was after eleven and he had just left them.
He put on his signal, about to pull into the driveway, when the truck parked next door in the Jenkins driveway had him slamming on the brakes.
“Son of a bitch.” Logan stared at it, not believing what he saw. But there it was, as living proof. Jace was there. In the house where Emma was staying. In the middle of the damn night.
What the hell was Jace doing at the Jenkins house so late?
Moving in on Emma while Logan wasn’t looking was the most likely answer. Jealousy hit Logan like a fist in the gut. Emma had been with Logan today. Had made love to him. He tried to remember that fact as it felt as if a vise was being clamped around his chest.
What could he do? It was too late to go over and knock on the door. That was for sure. But it was also late enough, and dark enough, for some reconnaissance.
Realizing that having his truck idling in the middle of the road was not the best way to be invisible, he pulled into the driveway. He cut the lights and engine, and got out, closing the door as silently as he could manage.
Logan cursed his cowboy boots for making his footsteps sound even louder as he tried to move, quickly and quietly, across the driveway and to the back door of the Jenkins’ house.
What he was looking to find, he wasn’t quite sure. As long as it wasn’t Emma and Jace snuggled up together, necking like a couple of teenagers, he’d be good. Just the thought twisted his gut.
Like a ninja, Logan crouched low and crept toward the back of the house. There was one light on inside, and it was in the kitchen. It was crazy, but he had to look. Had to see what was happening, even if what he saw might make him ill.
At six-foot-two, Logan figured he’d be able to see inside while standing on the ground if he stretched. He moved closer to the window, giving himself a pep talk as his heart thundered. He’d deal with whatever he discovered, even if Jace and Emma were together in there.
Logan would fight for her. Jace had been his competition for Emma’s attention from the day he’d met her, but Logan had been the one she’d left with after the wedding.
With that resolve made, Logan put one hand on the windowsill and rose onto his toes . . . and saw an empty room. The illumination had come from a small light inside the hood above the stove. Mrs. Jenkins must have left it on as a nightlight in case her houseguests got up in the middle of the night and wanted something from the kitchen.
Logan blew out a breath and tried to calm the pounding in his chest. Emma was probably snug in bed, sound asleep. That still didn’t explain the presence of Jace’s truck in the drive at this late hour, but Logan would have to find out the answer to that in the morning. He turned, about to head home and to bed himself when a dark shape blocked his path.
“Logan?” Tuck’s voice came through the darkness. “What the hell? You okay? Your dad okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” Crap. How could he explain being here? “Where are you coming from?”
“Elk City. Rodeo with Jace.” As Tuck moved closer, Logan could see the gear bag in his hand.
They’d been at a rodeo. Of course. Logan should have thought of that. Jace hadn’t been here with Emma at all. That revelation was an unbelievable relief.
The sound of a truck starting in the driveway caught Logan’s attention. “That Jace leaving now?”
“Yeah, he’s got a job to do early in the morning in Stillwater. Besides, he’s so wired from all the energy drinks he downed tonight, he’ll have no trouble driving the couple of hours back.”
Another relief added to Logan’s growing list. Jace was leaving, not crashing here for the night where he would wake up to Emma at the breakfast table.
“So, what are you doing creeping around in the dark outside my house at this hour? You’re usually not such a night owl.”
“Actually, I just got home from the VFW. You were right. The guys are willing to help us out.” Logan motioned toward the window, hoping his diversionary tactic worked. “When I saw the light on, I thought you might be up. I came by so I could tell you thanks for the suggestion.”
“That’s good to hear. I’m glad.” Tuck delivered a nod, and shifted his bag from one hand to the other.
So far, so good. Maybe Tuck did believe Logan’s bullshit excuse.
“And I’m sure your interest in thanking me in the middle of the night has nothing to do with the fact my new sister-in-law is here for a visit.”
Or maybe not.
Speechless, Logan considered how to sidestep that accusation.
“It’s okay, Logan. I get it. I started acting like a fool the minute I saw Becca. Must be something in that New York water. Makes the women from there irresistible to us guys here in the Midwest.”
Logan laughed and gave up his attempt to deny Tuck was right. “Could be.”
“So how about you come over bright and early in the morning for breakfast? You can pass on the good news about the old guys helping out at the shop. I’m sure my parents and Becca and Emma would all love to see you.”
“I don’t want to intrude—”
“Jesus, Logan.” Tuck interrupted Logan’s halfhearted protest. “We were in each other’s houses as much as we were in our own growing up. Emma’s being here doesn’t change that, and I know you want to see her, so just cut the crap and come over.”
“All right.” Logan couldn’t fight it. Tuck was right, so Logan gave in and tried to preserve what was left of his dignity. “Thanks.”
Tuck shook his head. “No problem. Can I go in and shower now, so I can get to bed? I smell like bull and there’s a sweet thing inside waiting on me.”
“Of course. Go.” Words couldn’t express how envious Logan was of Tuck, though it was the other Hart sister Logan wished was in his own bed waiting on him. Tomorrow, he’d see what he could do about making that happen.
Emma stifled the guilt as she reached for a coffee mug, knowing that according to some experts, she shouldn’t have any caffeine at all. She had cut down to one cup a day and she wasn’t giving that up. It was one small concession, a last vestige of normalcy. She’d given up alcohol, and she’d weaned herself off her usual pot of coffee a day, but she could only do so much for this baby. It would just have to get used to one little tiny cup of caffeine.
“Good morning.” Logan’s voice at the back door had Emma’s hand pausing on the handle of the coffee pot.
As the screen door slammed closed, Mrs. Jenkins said, “Good morning, Logan. Come on in. Have a seat. Coffee’s made and bacon is on the way.”
“Thank you, ma’am. That sounds wonderful.” Logan moved across the room, the coffee pot Emma held obviously his objective. He stopped so close, he had her pinned between his body and the counter. “Morning, Emma.”
Her pulse beat faster at the heat she saw in his eyes. “Good morning. Coffee?”
“Definitely. Thanks.” He reached into the cabinet above her head to grab a mug, and all she
could think about was him lifting her up, setting her on top of the counter, and doing inappropriate things to her.
“Sure. No problem.” It took all she had to not shake when she poured the steaming black liquid into his cup.
“So what are your plans for the day?” He raised a brow and sipped at his black coffee.
She concentrated on stirring cream and sugar into her own cup. Another concession to the pregnancy—she’d switched back to real sugar instead of the fake stuff. If Becca didn’t notice all these sudden changes in Emma’s behavior, she must be blind.
But Emma couldn’t worry about that now. She had to keep the words I’m pregnant with your baby from showing on her face as she tried to act casual with Logan.
“No plans so far. Are you working at the store today? I could help if you’d like.”
His lips turned up in a smile. “I’d like that very much. I figured I’d drive over around ten. I could give you a ride. Or you can take your own car in case you want to leave early. I’ll be there a while—”
“No, that’s fine. I can ride with you and stay for however long you do.”
His smile broadened. “That will be nice. Having the company, I mean.”
Emma’s cheeks heated as she remembered yesterday and their encounter on the worktable. From his expression, and the way his voice dipped low and intimate as he spoke to her, she knew Logan was remembering, too. Maybe even envisioning what could happen today.
“You working on that saddle today?” Oklahoma had obviously gotten into her blood. She’d fallen asleep last night fantasizing about what she and Logan could do with the sturdy piece of leather equipment as their prop.
“I am.”
“Good. I wouldn’t mind being there for that. You know, getting a closer look at the kind of work you could accomplish on a saddle like that.” She kept her voice low and her words generic, but hopefully Logan would get the deeper meaning.
His brows rose a bit. Logan nodded. “I think I can arrange for you to be there to witness that.”
“I look forward to it.” With one last smoldering look, Emma carried her coffee mug to where the family sat.
Taking her seat at the breakfast table, Emma was in such a good mood she could even ignore the openly interested expression Becca wore. That was in direct opposition to how Tuck kept his head down while he studied the front page of the morning newspaper as if his life depended on it. Good man. He was giving them privacy. Or he was really into the local news. Either way, it worked for Emma.
Thank goodness Tyler had already left for work, Mr. Jenkins was busy with the sports section of the paper, and Mrs. Jenkins was too busy frying bacon to care. Otherwise the entire Jenkins family might have seen her and Logan flirting over the coffeemaker.
Emma glanced up and saw him coming across the kitchen. He took the empty chair next to her at the wooden table. “So, you got to see our good old friend Jace yesterday, huh?” Logan eyed her over the rim of his mug as he took a sip.
Wasn’t this interesting? If Emma wasn’t totally off base, Logan was jealous. This could play right into her plans. “Yes, I did.” Emma looked at Tuck, enjoying this game she was playing with Logan. “In fact, Tucker, I think I promised to kiss last night’s winner. Who won?”
Tuck glanced up, wide-eyed and looking less than happy to be included in Emma’s game of cat and mouse with Logan. “Uh, not me.”
“Then who?”
“Jace,” Becca answered for her husband.
“Really? Wow.” Hmm. She hadn’t counted on him winning. Emma shot Logan a sideways glance and noticed the expression he wore. It looked as if his coffee had gotten very bitter. Making him a little jealous was one thing, but she didn’t want to drive him away by making him think she was slutting around Oklahoma. Especially not now. Emma swallowed hard. “So, where is Jace?”
“Stillwater,” Tuck answered in seemingly as few words as possible.
“Oh, well. That offer had an expiration date so he’ll miss out.” She turned her attention to her sister. Time to change the subject. “Becca, what are you and Tuck doing today?”
“I’m fixin’ to mow our lawn and the Hunts’s yard right after breakfast.”
“No, Tuck—” Logan began to protest.
“Quit.” Tucker cut off his friend. “I stayed in town to help your parents out, so let me help.”
Logan drew in a deep breath, looking uncomfortable. “Thanks.”
Tuck nodded his acceptance and went back to reading the paper, though he never did turn the page.
“And I thought I’d need to spend the day keeping you busy, but it seems I don’t have to. Logan’s willing to do it for me.” Becca smiled.
“Becca, you should spend the day with your sister.” Again, Logan appeared uncomfortable.
“No, really, Logan, you’d be doing me a favor. I still have to write and address all the thank you cards for the wedding. It’ll probably take me all day. It’ll help me knowing Emma is being taken care of.” Becca was playing matchmaker again, but this time, it was fine with Emma.
Logan looked at Emma. “You sure you won’t mind being stuck with me all day?”
Emma met his dark gaze. “Not at all.” She couldn’t think of a better way to spend a day . . . or a night.
Chapter Sixteen
“My grandfather owned the shop first. Then my father ran it. I know he hopes Layne and I will take it over one day.” Logan rubbed the leather of the saddle with a rag as he spoke.
Emma paused in the midst of tearing into a cardboard box in the store’s back room and looked up. Logan wore a wistful expression when he spoke about the family history of his shop. “Logan, I hadn’t realized. This store’s a real family tradition.”
He sniffed out a short laugh. “And how could I have even contemplated selling it, knowing how much it means to my father?”
“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not what I was saying at all.”
“I know.” Logan sighed like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. “You don’t have to say it. I’ve said it to myself at least a hundred times.”
“And in this conversation with yourself, what do you say back to you?” Emma cocked a brow.
He let out another humorless laugh. “That depends on the day, and time . . . and my mood. Then I ask myself the other big question haunting me. How can we keep it? Mom’s busy taking care of Dad. Layne’s in Japan. I’ll have to go back to Stillwater. Even with the guys from the VFW helping out, it’s a lot of work.”
“I know, Logan. I don’t think anyone will blame you if you decide you need to sell it.”
His expression told her he didn’t believe that. “I keep putting off doing anything. I guess I was hoping something would change. And you know what? I think it just might. Something changed yesterday.”
“What changed?”
“I walked into my father’s room at the rehab facility and he was standing. Before this, he’s always been in bed or in the wheelchair when I visited.”
“Logan, that’s wonderful.”
“Eh, not quite. He fell right after that, but he had been standing, so that’s something. His speech is improving, too.”
“That’s great. He’s getting better. See, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.”
“His improvements might be a double-edged sword. You know? If he were totally disabled, permanently, there’d be no question what I needed to do. We’d have to sell. And if he makes a complete recovery, there’s no question he’ll want to keep working here. But what if his condition stalls somewhere in the middle? Then what?” Logan sighed.
“I understand. We have to have faith that this is the start of that complete recovery. I’m glad he’s making progress.”
“Me, too. And I’m really glad that when Mom was so distraught over Dad and told me and Layne to decide by ourselves if we wanted to sell, we didn’t rush and do it. With my luck, we’d sell, he’d be as good as new, and never talk to me again.”
“I do
ubt he’d feel that way, but I’m happy you didn’t sell, too. Because, you know, I have a fond place in my heart for that workbench. I’d hate to think of a stranger getting it.” She grinned.
He let out a burst of a laugh. “My grandfather built that bench. If he ever knew what we’d used it for.”
“He was a married man. I think he’d understand.”
“I don’t know.” Still chuckling, Logan stopped working the conditioner into the saddle and turned to face Emma where she sat on the floor surrounded by cardboard boxes. He frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Seeing what’s inside all of these.”
“I can tell you what’s in them. Dusty old crap from my parents’ garage.”
“No. There’s some great stuff in here.” She glanced toward the floor next to her at pile of treasures she’d unearthed so far.
“Oh really. Like what?”
“Like these deer antlers I found. And this kerosene lamp. And over there, covered in dust, is a nice old trunk. I just have to clean it up a little.”
He looked in the direction she pointed. “Actually, that’s a tack box.”
“Okay, tack box. Whatever.” Emma dismissed his correction with a wave of one hand as her mind spun with possibilities. “It will look great with that wool throw for sale out in the store.”
“Wool throw?” Logan frowned.
“Yeah.” Emma nodded. “The one with kind of a Native American-style print.”
“It’s a saddle blanket not a throw. Just like the tack box, it’s for horses, not people.” He smiled.
“Fine. That’s even better. I can put together a whole horse theme.” She conceded his point so she could make her own. “What I’m saying is, when I pull all these things together in one corner of the store, it will create a scene. It’s going to look like you stepped into the Ralph Lauren store on Madison Avenue.”
“Oh, really.” Logan cocked one brow. “And that’s a good thing?”