Say You'll Marry Me (Welcome to Redemption #10)

by Stacey Joy Netzel

Joy turned her hand over and squeezed his fingers in thanks. He’d managed to answer her grandma and still not outright lie. Dinner seemed almost normal after that—other than getting used to Logan playing attentive fiancé. A touch here, a smile there. She’d asked for this, and it was definitely working for her grandma. Problem was, with every warm glance, it was working on her, too.

  “Let’s talk about the wedding,” Gram suggested when Joy stood to clear her grandparents’ plates. “What are we going to plan first?”

  “We’re not in any rush, Grandma.” As she turned for the kitchen, she added over her shoulder, “Logan has a lot going on right now.”

  “I know, but I’m not getting any younger, dear.”

  She set the plates on the counter, and reached to turn on the pre-set coffee pot as the reminder jabbed into her heart. On her way back into the dining room, she passed Logan carrying the remaining two empty plates. His expression was full of understanding, so she gave Gram a big smile.

  “How about cake tasting? I can call Coffee to Chai For to set up an appointment. Carrie did Caleb and Lauren’s cake, and it was beautiful.”

  “Tasted great, too,” Grandpa chimed in.

  “Good idea. Why don’t you go get your binder so we can set up a game plan.”

  “Binder?”

  Logan’s voice directly behind Joy made her jump. He’d snuck up on her on his way back from the kitchen and grinned as she tossed him a quick glance. “Oh, no,” she said. “No need for that.”

  No way did she want him seeing the elaborate three-ring-binder she’d compiled with all her arrangements for her cancelled wedding. Luke had encouraged her enthusiasm—probably because he saw a bunch of fornicating little dollar signs whenever she added a page in one of the sections. Logan would think she was crazy.

  “But you put so much time into organizing everything,” her grandma said. “It’s really quite pretty with all your color-coded tabs for everything…the cake, the dress, one for each bridesmaid, and the rehearsal dinner. And the pictures of everything.”

  Sure, all that her grandma remembered from the one time she’d shown her.

  “I gotta see this,” Logan murmured.

  Joy gave him a weak smile. Not only did she not want him to think she was obsessed with getting married, she also didn’t want him to see how much money she’d spent on a wedding that didn’t happen when he couldn’t even afford to make the mortgage payment on his place.

  “I’m not entirely sure where it is. Probably still packed away in a box from the move.” Or stuffed in her closet because she couldn’t bear to throw it away when she first came home four months ago. Tomorrow, it was going in the garbage. “And look at that, the coffee is done. If you all want to go sit down, I’ll bring everything into the living room.”

  She pushed them toward the couch and hurried into the kitchen to watch the half-full pot fill, drip by slow drip. Okay, it was faster than that, and she arranged the serving tray with mugs, spoons, cream, and sugar as she waited, but Gram’s voice from the other room had her wishing the pot would brew as fast as her grandmother wanted to get the wedding planned.

  “June Bug, relax. Everything will get done as it needs to.”

  Thanks, Grandpa.

  “I know. Though, I hope he’s okay with the pre-planning she already—”

  “Need any help in here?”

  Logan’s voice from a few feet behind made her jump again. She spun around to see his grin. “Stop doing that.”

  Gram’s next words carried from the living room loud and clear. “I know it’s the bride’s day, but Logan will want to have some say in the arrangements. You know how stubborn Joy gets when she puts her mind to something.”

  “Stubborn?” Logan stage-whispered. “You? Nooo.”

  “Shut up and carry this.” She shoved the tray into his hands and then turned to pour the coffee into a thermal carafe. Then she followed him into the other room as her grandmother continued to make her point.

  “All I’m saying is that I would’ve preferred to have red velvet at our wedding, but knowing how much you love carrot cake, Albert, I let you have what you wanted. Learning that marriage is a compromise starts with planning the wedding.” Grandma turned her blue gaze to Logan. “What’s your favorite kind of cake?”

  He didn’t miss a beat as he set the tray on the coffee table. “I reserve the right to answer that after I’ve tasted all the choices.”

  Grandpa let out a soft snort. “Smart boy.”

  “I remember back when Albert first began courting me…”

  As the coffee was served and they sipped from their cups, her grandma became lost in the past. She told the story of how she and Grandpa met at a dance as if it had happened yesterday. Joy cherished hearing the memories, but still felt tears well in her eyes when she saw the hint of sadness in her grandfather’s face. He knew he was losing a little more of his wife each day.

  She tried to blink the moisture away before the tears fell.

  Logan shifted on the couch next to her and put his arm around her shoulders to pull her close to his side. “You okay?” he whispered near her ear.

  A nod was the best she could manage as emotions for her grandma swirled with the sensation of being comforted by him. How had she ever thought him an insensitive jerk? The man hid a heart of gold behind all those muscles in his chest.

  “The best was when he sang to me on our wedding day,” Gram said. “‘Brown Eyed Girl,’ only you changed the lyrics. Do you remember?”

  “I remember,” he whispered. “My blue-eyed girl.”

  Joy stared at the two of them in surprise. “Grandpa, I didn’t know you could sing.”

  “He has a beautiful voice.”

  “Ach,” he scoffed with a wave of his hand, his voice gruff as he smiled sheepishly. “I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

  “I do, too,” Gram argued indignantly. In the next moment, she gave him a pleading look. “Sing to me, Albert. Like you did back then.”

  “Not now, June Bug.”

  “Please?”

  Judging by the panic on her grandpa’s face, he needed rescuing.

  “Logan sings, Grandma. And he plays the guitar. Maybe he could play something for you sometime.”

  A slight stiffening at the beginning of her sentence should’ve warned her. Logan’s all out retreat and the removal of his arm by the time she finished speaking told her she should’ve found a different subject to distract her grandmother.

  Chapter 8

  ‡

  Dread engulfed Logan as June focused her blue gaze on him.

  “Oh, that sounds wonderful.”

  He’d never sung for anyone in his life. What Joy heard the other day in his barn didn’t count because he hadn’t known she was there. The guitar, the singing, the writing…it was something he hadn’t shared with anyone. Not even his dad. It was personal and private, and she had no business telling anyone about what she’d heard.

  How the hell was he supposed to say no to June when she asked with such excitement in her voice?

  Anxiety clawed at his gut. How the hell could he say yes?

  Silence reigned for a few heartbeats before he managed to say, “I’m really sorry, June, but I left my guitar in Nashville.”

  “Oh.” She sounded like a child whose puppy had been taken away.

  Guilt piled on, but this time, Al came to his rescue as he patted her knee. “Leave the boy be, June Bug. It’s getting late anyway, and we have to be up early to go pick up Sweet Pea’s new bed tomorrow.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” She jumped up as if the couch was spring loaded. “Bev Donovan called earlier, and I can’t wait to see it. Goodnight you two. Don’t stay up too late.”

  Al nodded his goodnight before guiding June from the room. She kept talking, but as their voices faded down the hall, Logan gave Joy a hard look of resentment and stood.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her expression full of contrition
as she rose as well. “I probably shouldn’t have—”

  “It’s not something I share with people.”

  “I don’t know why not. In fact, you might even be able to—”

  “Mind your own business,” he cut in, not wanting to hear her suggest he play in bars again. People in this town looked down on him enough; no way he’d stand up on a stage and invite more judgment.

  He strode through the kitchen and out the door. Halfway across the porch, he heard the door open behind him.

  “Why don’t you share your music with anyone else? From what I heard the other day, you’re good.”

  The matter-of-fact statement surprised him enough to make him pause. She’d said the same thing that day in the loft, but he’d brushed it aside in his anger. Now, he spun around to find her just outside the screen door, arms crossed in front of her against the chill of the September evening.

  Past longing to hold her in his arms reared up—all the more powerful now that he’d had a taste of what it was like to kiss her. However, along with the desire came all the old insecurities, too. Putting himself out there with something so close to him wasn’t gonna happen. With the music, or her.

  “Because it’s mine. No one can take it away from me, no matter how much money I don’t have, or how much I owe. No matter what else is going on, the music is mine.”

  Shit.

  He hadn’t meant to reveal that much. What was it about her that had him saying things he normally wouldn’t even admit to himself?

  Silence fell in the wake of his heated statement, leaving him flayed wide open. She was right, that they couldn’t pretend with each other, and knowing that he didn’t stand a chance with her had put an edge on his words that he couldn’t smooth out.

  Understanding filled her eyes as she stepped toward him. “Okay, I get it. I’m sorry.”

  His chest tightened, and he didn’t quite know how to respond. He couldn’t say it was okay, nothing in his life was these days, yet he wanted to tell her maybe it wasn’t such a big deal.

  The words stuck in his throat.

  And then she was standing right in front of him. His pulse jolted when she flattened her palms on his chest, slid her hands up to the back of his neck, and pulled him down toward her. Her gaze met his for a brief moment before her lips touched his and that little spark of energy ignited on contact again.

  No way in hell that’s static electricity.

  His hands automatically went to her waist, but he kept them on the outside of her clothes after the trouble they’d gotten him in last time.

  Her kiss was soft and sweet and didn’t last nearly long enough as she eased back a few seconds later. In the dim porch light, warmth skewed her hazel eyes to brown, and he flexed his grip on her hips in his effort to keep from pulling her closer.

  Then realization dawned and disappointment surged as he flicked his gaze toward the house. “Is your grandma watching?”

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” Joy glanced over her shoulder, then turned back to him. “I wanted to say thank you for coming over tonight, and for everything you’re doing for Gram. If I hadn’t screwed it all up, it would’ve been a nice night.”

  Regret filled her voice, yet…he swore he heard a lilt of hope at the end. She didn’t move away, either. Her fingers played with his hair at the back of his neck, sending tingles down his spine as warmth curled through his limbs.

  The unwavering steadiness of her gaze was all the invitation he needed.

  Logan slid his hands to her back and pulled her against him to claim her lips. Forget soft, hello hot, and short was out the window. While he did retain some awareness of where they stood, he didn’t hold back. And just like in the loft the other day, neither did she. Her mouth opened beneath his, and she eagerly matched his enthusiasm stroke for stroke.

  The sensual glide of her tongue against his sent his blood rushing through his veins and had him burying a hand in her hair to angle her head so he could deepen the kiss. A soft moan reached his ears, but he honestly didn’t know which of them made the sound.

  When he needed air and had to pull back, Joy was equally breathless, her chest heaving against his. Self-preservation forced him to ease their bodies apart. He lifted his hands to smooth her hair back from her face, and leaned his forehead against hers. She offered a small, shaky smile as they each caught their breath.

  He placed a final, soft kiss on her lips. “It was still a nice night. Thank you.”

  He stepped away and turned for the stairs before the longing in her eyes made him go back for more. When he reached his truck, the sound of the screen door closing made him glance over his shoulder to see she’d gone inside.

  What, did you expect her to stand there mooning after you?

  He took a deep breath and blew it out again. She hadn’t waited for him to leave, but she had kissed him on her own, when they didn’t ‘need’ to for anyone else’s benefit. That was definitely a step ahead of yester—

  “Logan. I’d like a word.”

  In mid-reach for the door handle, he startled at the sound of Al Dolinski’s voice near his tailgate. He swung around as his boss stepped out from behind the back of the truck. “Geezus, Al, I didn’t know you were out here.”

  “That much was apparent.”

  It suddenly hit Logan, that’s where the kiss had come from. Joy must’ve known her grandfather was watching. Disappointment bit hard.

  No, wait, Al knew they were only pretending to be engaged so—

  Shit.

  Al knew, and he’d seen their kiss on the porch a moment ago. The first one wasn’t such a big deal, but the second one, Logan had pretty much been searching for Joy’s tonsils.

  The older man’s tone had been as firm as his father’s used to be when he’d done something wrong, and his stomach turned over as he met Al’s gaze. The undisguised sheen of moisture in his boss’ eyes made him blink in surprise.

  “Is June okay?” he asked. Stupid question. Obviously she wasn’t okay.

  “She’s fine. Actually, that’s why I came out here. I wanted to thank you.”

  “Thank me?”

  “For what you and Joy are doing. I didn’t like the idea when she first told me, but seeing June smile at the two of you together tonight…” He paused to clear his gruff voice, and Logan felt a lump swell in his own throat. “I haven’t seen her smile like that since Joy first told us she was gettin’ hitched. It means so much to see my wife happy again.”

  “It was Joy’s idea.”

  “She told me. She didn’t want me thinking you were trying to take advantage or anything.”

  “I wouldn’t do—”

  “I know, son. You wouldn’t be working here if I didn’t respect the man I know you are.”

  Damn if that didn’t hyper-activate the lump in his throat. “Thank you.”

  Al gave a nod, then glanced toward the house and stepped back. “I should be getting back inside. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Yes sir. Good night.” He opened his door and started to climb into the truck cab.

  “Logan.”

  There was that tone again. The stern father voice. His stomach flipped once more as he gave Al his full attention.

  “While I do appreciate what you’re doing, remember why you’re doing it. That good-for-nothing ex of hers broke her heart. Don’t you go doing the same.”

  *

  Logan sat on a bale in the hayloft, guitar on his lap as the first light of dawn brightened the horizon. Habit brought the instrument with him, though this morning his fingers only plucked a random note every so often.

  His thoughts were too jumbled to even think about stringing together any words for a song.

  Don’t break her heart.

  He understood where Al’s warning came from, respected it even. After way too much thought as he tossed and turned through the night, though, he doubted there was any danger of that. Yes, there was a sizzling physical attraction between him and Joy, and now that he was ge
tting to know her, he could see why she’d been well-liked back in high school.

  However, without her grandma’s illness confusing him for Luke, they probably would’ve continued down the same distant, parallel paths they’d been on all summer. Just because they were fake together now didn’t mean anything would continue once the sham was over.

  Especially with the foreclosure sale looming ever closer.

  That thought made him frown. A week ago—hell, two days ago—he’d convinced himself he’d done everything he could to save the farm and accepted the fact it was over. Time to move on.

  Then Joy had questioned him in the barn, and he’d felt the need to defend himself.

  I’ve got a couple weeks yet. It’s not like I’ve completely given up.

  But he had.

  And now, with his mother’s engagement ring on the finger of a woman he could never have, suddenly he wished he hadn’t. There had been a fleeting moment when he’d actually considered he might have a chance; then he found out her ex was a lawyer. Granted, the guy was a scumbag, but still, a frickin’ lawyer, while he was a farmer who couldn’t even keep his own damn land.

  You still have almost two weeks.

  But, realistically, what could he do in a matter of eleven days?

  Anything is more than you’ve done in the past three months.

  He was ashamed to admit that was true.

  Starting today, that was going to change. He put his notepad and guitar away and completed all the morning chores at his place before heading over to the Dolinski’s at eight-thirty. When he pulled into the driveway, his pulse picked up at the thought of seeing Joy.

  Seemed he hadn’t quite gotten himself off that dangerous road that would likely lead to his heart taking a hit, not hers.

  The garage doors were open, and both Al’s SUV and her car were gone. Logan ignored his disappointment as he turned out the horses so he could muck stalls. The tractor needed an oil change, and the gate on the back pasture needed a new hinge, but he’d get them done later. Once he finished the chores that couldn’t wait, he went home to shower and change into his best jeans, a light blue dress shirt, and his navy sport coat. He debated a tie, but decided against looking like he was trying too hard. It would make him seem desperate.