Logan slung his arm across Joy’s stiff shoulders and hugged her to his side. “Of course we’re going to argue about some things, just like I’m sure you and Al have over the years.”
June’s expression eased as she nodded. “We’ve had some doozies.”
“But you always make up and move on, and so will we.”
Joy’s bare shoulder and arm distracted him for a moment, giving him ideas as to how they could make up as he ran his fingers up and down her soft skin in an effort to relax the tension in her stiff body.
“Then you’re still getting married?”
Get your mind back where it belongs!
“Of course we are,” he assured June.
“Thank goodness.” The older woman laid her hand over her heart in a gesture of relief and gave them a wide smile. “Okay, then. Finish your discussion and get to the kiss and make up part so we can get back to trying on this veil. You really shouldn’t have seen the dress, Logan, but…oh, don’t worry about it. That’s just an old wives’ tale.” She paused in her rambling to eye them with expectation. “Come on now, get to it. I’ll be waiting inside.”
After the screen door slammed, he turned his gaze to Joy in anticipation of the kissing part of their little make up scene. Unfortunately, the annoyed compression of her lips told him the tables had turned.
“Is this going to be a daily thing for me to worry about?” she demanded. “You flipping back and forth whenever you see Gram? Because I’d rather deal with her confusion than wonder if you’ll say you’ll marry me today, and then change your mind tomorrow.”
Say you’ll marry me…man, that sounded so real—especially with her standing in front of him in a wedding dress. Hell, between her tears, her past, her grandma, and how damn beautiful she looked, he might marry her right now if she asked.
“You have my word. I’ll pretend as long as you need me to.”
For some reason, the promise made her frown, but then she nodded with a quiet thanks and started toward the porch steps, her head bent.
“Forgetting something?”
She hesitated before turning back to face him with a resigned sigh that slayed his ego. “She’s watching, isn’t she?”
“Living room window.” It sounded like something June would do, anyway.
Joy raised her gaze to his, but didn’t move. There was something very vulnerable in the way she stood there in that wedding dress, watching him, waiting for him to kiss her.
Without breaking eye contact, he stepped forward and raised his hands to palm her face. As he leaned in, he said, “I’m sorry I said your life was easy.”
Emotion flashed in her eyes a second before she closed them with a whispered, “Damn you, Logan.”
Then she kissed him breathless, stepped back to scoop up the train of her dress, and ran inside.
*
Damm him?
No, damn her.
For a number of reasons, not the least of which was going to the bank behind his back.
For arguing with him while wearing that damn wedding dress that had him imagining her walking down the aisle toward him for real. He’d used the word pretend in his promise to her to give himself a reality check, but it wasn’t working.
For pointing out what an insensitive jerk he was and making him feel bad about being pissed off when he had every right to be pissed off.
For kissing him to the point of distraction.
Logan shoved the tool box into the bed of his truck and slammed the tailgate. All good reasons to damn the woman, but the worst of all was her not believing he could save his farm on his own.
She was right, of course, but she didn’t have to throw it in his face. Despite their somewhat amicable parting, her lack of faith had eaten at him all afternoon while he changed the oil in her grandfather’s tractor. The belittling feeling had burrowed deeper as he fixed the pasture gate, and now headed home.
He didn’t know if she’d called Brian Thomas to halt the money transfer or not—didn’t even want to know, because if it was done, it was done, and there was nothing he could do about it.
But he didn’t want it done, damn it. A man was supposed to be able to provide for his wife, not have her pay his debt.
You’re not really going to marry her, idiot!
He frowned at the thought, then thrust it aside. The thing was, he was thirty-two years old and always figured he’d have a family of his own someday. Between Joy’s challenge, and Edna and Millie’s snide remarks, his pride was taking a hell of a beating. Whether he had to pay the bank, or Joy, it was time to prove to everyone he wasn’t just some poor farmer who wasn’t good enough.
In the next instant, his heart jammed up into his throat and shortened his breath. Less than two weeks to come up with a half-million dollars—legally—was impossible. He’d fail for sure and prove everyone right. That thought did nothing to ease the constriction in his chest.
“What about your music?”
This time his stomach roiled, and he shook his head as he pulled into his own driveway. The songs he wrote were never intended for anyone else’s ears. They were personal to him, so why would anyone else want to listen?
Besides, with no formal training on the guitar, or for song writing, no one was going to pay money for his stuff. A lot of it was crap. He didn’t doubt Joy had only said he was good to be nice, and if he gave her anything to send to her friend, she’d probably have the guy pretend to buy a bunch of the songs and pay for them herself. Since they were already so good at pretending, it would be a convenient workaround to giving him the money.
“You ain’t sending anything to anyone, so stop thinking about it.”
Except he couldn’t. All through checking his herd, filling water tanks, feeding hay, and maintenance on his own few remaining pieces of equipment, the idea nagged at him. It was well after dark when he went into the house to scrub the grease and oil off his hands before showering and downing a large bowl of cereal for dinner.
Dressed in a T-shirt and cotton shorts, he went out on the porch to sit in his father’s rocking chair with the radio tuned to a country station through the open window. As usual for mid-September, the night air was cool, but after the heat of the Indian Summer day, the slight chill felt good on his skin.
He leaned his head back and let the music wash over him, listening to the words and melodies with a critical ear. Mixed in with the drinking and cheating songs, there were quite a few stories about the important things in life. Home. Family. God. Friends. He’d known they were there all along, it was what drew him to the genre in the first place, but now he realized some of them weren’t so very different in sentiment from the lyrics he wrote.
But would his be good enough?
That sickening roller coaster feeling hit him in the gut again as his cell phone rang. Thankful for the distraction, he got to his feet to grab it off the counter. When he realized it was almost ten p.m. and saw the Dolinski ranch number on the caller I.D., his pulse skipped.
“Hey, Al, what’s up?”
“Logan, it’s Joy.”
Now it was the sound of her voice that made his heart beat faster. “Oh…hey. Is everything all right? Your grandparents okay?”
“Yeah. They’re sleeping.”
“I thought something might be wrong seeing how late it is.”
“Oh, no, sorry. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No. Just…not used to calls this late.” Or ever.
“I tried calling earlier, but there was no answer, so…”
“I was out in the barn.”
“I figured.” There was an awkward pause before she continued. “I wanted to apologize, and let you know that I did call Brain to cancel the payment earlier. After…you know, I went back inside.”
After their kiss. The pause told him she was remembering the lip lock just like him. The memory was enough to distract him, and it took a few seconds for his brain to process her words. Relief and pressure made an odd combination. He ignored the incre
ased volume of his internal ticking clock and focused on the first emotion.
“Thank you.”
She gave a soft laugh that triggered a sharp pang of longing. “There aren’t many people who would thank me for not helping them.”
“I’m not like most people.”
“I know.”
The note of respect in her quiet voice surprised him. She’d been so adamant about helping, but maybe she was finally starting to get that it was something he had to do himself.
“Um, I also have a favor to ask. Gram keeps insisting she needs to go into town tomorrow to pick up Sweet Pea’s new bed.”
“I thought she and Al did that today?”
“They did. She probably won’t remember in the morning, but if she does, can you come with us? Grandpa has the veteran’s brat fry at Festival Foods in Green Bay all day. I thought if you were with me and Gram, it might keep her more grounded on wedding stuff. We could go to Coffee to Chai For and do some impromptu cake tasting and hopefully distract her enough to forget about the bed.”
“I won’t turn down cake,” he said by way of agreement.
“Thanks.”
“Sure. Just let me know.”
Pretending in town with her would be interesting. Tara and Jenny knew their engagement wasn’t real, so it stood to reason anyone else in that crowd would also know. He’d be curious to see how they reacted to the ruse.
“Well, I guess I should let you go,” Joy said. “You’re probably ready for bed after a long day.”
Her voice saying the word bed conjured up too many enticing ideas. However, he did find he didn’t want to hang up so fast. “Actually, I’m not even tired.”
He held his breath as he waited to see if she’d stay on the line.
“Me neither.” She sounded relieved. “Some days are a little harder than others with Gram, and it takes a while to unwind and fall asleep. Plus, I really wanted to talk to you; make sure we’re okay.”
“We’re okay,” he assured her.
“Good. I almost drove over, but didn’t want to bother you if you were busy.”
His pulse gave an excited leap. If she’d have driven over, they’d have both ended up bothered. And hot. He’d have made sure of it. As it was now, he turned down the radio and went back outside to let the night air cool his libido.
“No bother. I’d have put you to work.”
“Shoveling manure no doubt.”
He smiled at the humor in her voice and settled into his dad’s rocking chair again. “No. Tractor was acting up. You could’ve handed me tools.”
“I’ll give you hand you tools. I probably could’ve fixed it faster than you.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I grew up on the ranch, Logan. I may be a granddaughter, but my grandpa raised a son before me. He made sure I could operate and do minor repairs on every piece of machinery he owns. I am nothing like the girl you think I am.”
So she kept proving at every turn. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured.
“Make sure you do.”
The admonishment had him smiling again as he pushed with his bare foot to get the chair rocking. “So…that dress you were wearing earlier…”
“Oh, come on. You gotta bring that up?”
He heard the wince in her voice. “You really thought I wouldn’t?”
“I’d hoped. Then again, I suppose it’s better you ask than think I’m obsessed with getting married.”
“Are you?”
“No. It was a bad morning with Grandma. After Grandpa brought her back home, I was desperate for a distraction.”
He closed his eyes to bring forward the picture of her in that dress. Upswept hair exposed the elegant line of her neck and delicate shoulders. Snug, beaded material hugged her breasts, pushing them up to reveal alluring swells and enticing cleavage. Smooth, white fabric enhanced the curve of her hips, and every time she’d gathered the train to keep from tripping, he’d enjoyed each glimpse of her long, slender legs.
“Mission accomplished.”
“It didn’t freak you out?” she teased. “Not even a little bit?”
“It was unexpected, I will admit, but even I can’t deny it was a very nice distraction. You know, the dress.” And you.
“Well, thanks, but I’m donating that dress. I like my other one better anyway.”
Other one? “You have two wedding dresses? How many times have you been engaged?”
“Just the once.”
“So, why two?”
“I bought the first one before I ever met Luke.”
“I see. Because you’re not obsessed with getting married at all,” he deadpanned.
“I swear, I’m not,” she insisted with a laugh. “When I saw it, it just…I don’t know, spoke to me. And now that I said that out loud, it sounds stupid.”
“No, it doesn’t.” He hesitated with his next words, but decided to chance the subject. “I felt the same thing the first time I strummed a guitar. Couldn’t leave the store without it even though it meant ramen noodles for weeks.”
“A guitar is a little less crazy than a wedding dress.”
“The sentiment is the same, so I get it. The part about it speaking to you, anyway. I still don’t get why you’d buy a second dress, though.”
She sighed. “Luke didn’t care for the style. Of the first one, I mean.”
“Well, as we both know, the guy’s an idiot.”
“You haven’t seen that dress. It might be hideous.”
“As long as you like it, that’s all that matters. Besides, you’d look beautiful in anything.” And even better in nothing.
That got him another laugh. A slightly breathless one, he noticed.
“Nice. But I’m still not going to sleep with you.”
Had she read his mind, or had he accidently spoken that last bit out loud? He quickly muttered a heartfelt, “Damn it,” as if she’d figured him out, and thankfully her humor remained.
The ease with which they joked made his chest tighten. Now that he was past his preconceived notions about her, he enjoyed their talk. Kissing her was better, but he’d take what he could get. Heck, even the dinner with her grandparents had been something he hadn’t realized he missed in his life.
Family. Friends.
Someone to love.
That thought slammed his heart into his ribs. The dangerous road he’d warned himself not to take had just reached a hairpin curve, and he was going ninety miles per hour. He didn’t even realize he’d voiced the next question until it sat in the air between them.
“Do you still love him?”
Chapter 11
‡
Joy swirled Gram’s ancient wooden spoon around a pot of homemade spaghetti sauce Wednesday afternoon, staring out the window for a glimpse of Logan. She’d teased about not sleeping with him, but the way those kisses kept coming, she’d resigned herself—without even a smidgeon of shame—to the likelihood it would happen sooner or later.
Then he’d asked, “Do you still love him?”
She’d hesitated before answering. Not because she had to think about her answer, but because the note of accusation in his voice caught her off guard. As if how she felt about her ex mattered to him.
Did it?
By the time she recovered enough to say, “Of course not,” nerves had made her voice all stilted and insincere sounding, and he couldn’t seem to get off the phone fast enough.
One stupid little pause ruined the whole friendly, flirty vibe they’d had going. And all day today, he hadn’t made one attempt to come to the house to say hello. Yes, he’d been busy cutting hay in the back fields, but the two times she’d seen him out in the ranch yard, he hadn’t even so much as tossed a glance toward the house.
She leaned back to check the living room to make sure Gram was still engrossed in her new waterfall puzzle, then cursed under her breath when she saw her coming down the hall with her purse and fall jacket. She’d mentioned picking up Sweet Pea’s bed once
already, but Joy had managed to distract her. Apparently, not well enough.
“I’m all ready to go, dear.”
“Gram, I’m in the middle of the spaghetti sauce.”
“But we have to get to the store before Bev closes.”
She didn’t point out the brand new bed off to the left because her grandmother would only insist Joy didn’t know what she was talking about and get angry for treating her like a child. “How about we go tomorrow? We could have lunch, and maybe check out the shops.”
Gram gave her a dark look as she lifted the keys off the hook by the door. “You go tomorrow. I’m going today.”
Shoot. She’d have to talk to Grandpa about moving the car keys. Joy quickly turned off the stove and placed a cover over the pot before rushing out into the garage after her grandmother. “Grandma, you can’t go by yourself.”
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I am a grown woman. If I want to go to town, I’ll go to town.”
“I know, Gram, but…” She blocked the car door as she pulled out her phone to try to avoid a complete meltdown.
“Joy Marie, you get out of my way.”
“Just wait a minute, okay?” She held up a placating hand as she frantically scrolled to find the number she’d programmed in last night. There. She hit send and listened for it to start ringing. “I’m calling Logan to come with. He wanted to taste cakes with us, so we can stop at the coffee shop.”
“You don’t get wedding cakes at a coffee shop.”
“Carrie did Lauren and Caleb’s cake last month, remember? We’re just getting ideas for the wedding, Gram, and we want you to help us pick.”
She hesitated. The expression on her face softened enough that Joy was hopeful she’d averted the worst of her mutiny. If Logan would ans—
“What?”
She pasted on a smile in the face of his less than welcoming greeting. “Hi. Just checking to see if you’re ready to go into town with me and Gram for the cake-tasting like we’d planned? Gram’s practically in the car already.”
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