Stud for Hire

by Sabrina York

  Sidney stopped with her hand on the lintel, and studied him for a moment, and then, without a word, nodded and headed up the stairs.

  “Come on in, boys, and have a seat,” Henry Stevens called from the kitchen. Sounds of bowls and silverware clanking came from the room.

  Cody shot him a look. “Looks like we’re having some chili.”

  Logan shrugged. He wasn’t going anywhere until he knew for certain that Hanna was okay. And even then, he didn’t think he ever wanted to leave.

  ***

  Despite her exhaustion, Hanna couldn’t sleep.

  She hunkered on her bed, clutching her old high school year book. The first thing she’d done after her bath was dig it out and find him. And yeah. She remembered him. Kind of.

  He’d been the kid all the jocks teased and tormented, skinny and awkward and the butt of every joke.

  It horrified her, what he’d gone through in high school, now, looking back.

  It horrified her that she barely noticed him.

  She hadn’t been mean, like some of the girls. But she hadn’t exactly been nice either.

  Her heart ached for that boy. Her heart ached for the man he had become.

  Beyond all that, her mind was a whirl with everything that had happened. She was worried about tomorrow, what they would do, and where they would go. And, she had to admit, she was terrified Zack would show up at any minute.

  Her breath caught when she heard voices downstairs, but she allowed herself to relax when she caught Sidney’s soft tones and Cody’s response. Still, she pulled the covers over her head and huddled, shaking, in her bed.

  She jumped when Sidney tapped on her door. She knew it was Sidney, because her sister didn’t wait for her to respond. She opened the door and came right in.

  “Hanna?”

  She made her way through the darkened room, cursing as she banged against something, probably the desk.

  “Go away, Sidney. I’m tired.”

  “Hanna, Logan’s here.”

  Hanna’s pulse skittered at the sound of his name. Then, that elation was replaced with chagrin. She didn’t want to see Logan. Didn’t want to talk to him. Not now. She couldn’t. She hadn’t been able to process Zack’s revelations about Logan and that night. He had witnessed the worst moment of her life. Saved her. A girl who hadn’t even given him the time of day. She certainly hadn’t thanked him.

  She wasn’t sure how she felt about all of that—other than utter shame—but she knew she didn’t have the energy to deal with it now.

  Despite her undeniable attraction to the hunky ranch hand and the fact she was no longer marrying Zack, she couldn’t bear to think about facing him again. It was all too raw. Too painful. Too frightening. Too embarrassing. Had she really told him her darkest fantasy? Had she really allowed him to play it out with her? Now that she knew who he was—not some anonymous stripper, but a man who knew all her friends—it was horrifying to think about. “I don’t want to see him.”

  Sidney blew out a breath. “Are you sure? He’s really worried about you.”

  “Tell him I’m fine.”

  The bed dipped as her sister sat. She tugged back the duvet, despite Hanna’s grip on it, and gazed down at her through the murk. “Are you?”

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  “What happened with Zack?”

  Hanna frowned. “We had . . . a disagreement.”

  “Was he mad?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he . . .”

  Hanna blew out a breath. She knew what her sister was asking. Yes, he had. Or at least he’d tried. But she simply didn’t want to talk about it. “I’m fine. I promise.”

  “Will you come downstairs and tell Logan that? He’s been nearly out of his mind with worry all day. We all have.”

  “I’m too tired. Tell him I’m fine. Tell him whatever you want.”

  “Are you . . .”

  Silence crackled, scraping Hanna’s nerves. “What?”

  “Are you still marrying Zack?”

  “No.” Her voice was choked, blocked, but she forced out the word.

  Sidney blew out a breath and patted her hair. Hanna tried not to wince when Sidney found the tender spot where Hanna had hit her head on the car door as she fell out. She was still finding tender spots, hours after her ordeal.

  But even though she tried to mask her flinch, Sidney noticed it.

  “Oh, Hanna.” Even in the shadows, she could see her sister’s face puddle up. A hot tear fell on her arm.

  “Sidney. What is it?” Sidney didn’t answer, but more tears fell. “What?” Hanna sat up, took her sister’s face in her hands and angled her face to the sliver of light from the door. “Why are you crying?”

  Sidney’s eyes widened as her gaze fell on Hanna’s face. She traced yet another tender spot with her thumb. “Oh God. What did he do to you?”

  Hanna frowned. “We had a disagreement. There was a . . . scuffle. That’s all.”

  “He’s such a jerk.”

  “Yes.” Hanna swallowed a laugh at her sister’s outrage. “He is.”

  “It’s all my fault, isn’t it?”

  Hanna’s heart lurched. “No. No. It isn’t. This thing with Zack, it was doomed from the start, I think.”

  “Pfft.” Sidney blew out a breath. “That’s not what I meant. I’m glad you’re not marrying him. But when I planned this party . . . I never intended for it to end like this. He . . . hurt you. I’m . . . so sorry.”

  How difficult it must have been for her to say that. Sidney never apologized. “It’s okay, Sidney,” she said, pulling her sister into a hug. “It’ll all be okay.”

  Sidney pulled back and studied Hanna again. Her lips firmed. “Well, you’re right about one thing.”

  “Hmm? What’s that?”

  She blew out a breath. “You probably shouldn’t come downstairs right now. If Logan sees what Zack did to you, we’d have a murder on our hands.”

  ***

  It seemed to take forever for Sidney to come back down; she returned just as Henry removed the warmed-up chili from the microwave and gave each bowl a stir.

  “How is she?” he asked in a low tone.

  Sidney flinched, and then forced a shrug. “She’s fine.”

  “Did you tell her I’m here?”

  “Yeah.” The look in her eye was not promising. “She doesn’t want to see you.” His heart sank. His desolation must have shown on his face, because Sidney patted his shoulder. “She doesn’t want to see anyone. She’s been through . . . quite a lot. She just needs some time.”

  Hell. Time.

  He didn’t want to give her time. He wanted to march up there and yank her into his arms and hold her. But he had to honor her wishes.

  Damn it all.

  How much time, he wondered, did she need? A day? A week? More?

  “Here we go,” Henry crowed as he carried the bowls to the table, setting one in front of each of them. “This will put hair on your chest.”

  Sidney rolled her eyes and went to make a sandwich as the rest of them took their seats at the Stevens’ kitchen table to eat bowls of chili and cornbread and chat, as though nothing had happened.

  Logan took a bite of chili. His eyes started to water. Say what you like about Henry Stevens, but he made a mean bowl of chili. Logan wheezed and grabbed a glass of water.

  Henry smiled and nodded. “Good, huh? This recipe won the state fair six years running.”

  “It’s hideous, Dad,” Sidney muttered, biting into her peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. She leaned across the table and hissed at Logan, “You can expect nuclear farts tomorrow.”

  He choked on his cornbread.

  “Well, I love it hot,” Cody said as he reached the bottom of his bowl. Cody had a cast-iron stomach. Always had. “Too bad you can
’t can this up. You’d make your fortune . . .” And, because Cody was a clueless idiot, he added. “And then Hanna wouldn’t have to marry Zack.”

  Silence crackled around the table.

  Henry sighed. “Well, she’s not marrying him.”

  Logan’s head came up so hard he bit his tongue. “What?”

  She wasn’t marrying Zack.

  She was free.

  Exhilaration danced through his soul.

  He did not know from whence it came. He had no claim on her, other than a couple steamy nights at a raunchy bachelorette party. But he couldn’t deny that, at that moment, hope burned bright.

  She wasn’t his—not by a long shot—but she wasn’t Zack’s either.

  “They called it off.”

  “He did? Or did she?” Why it mattered, he couldn’t be sure.

  “She said it was, ahem, a mutual thing.” Henry glanced into the sitting room where his wife stared at the television that had long since been turned off. “Don’t know what we’ll do, but it hardly matters. I would never let a man like that marry my daughter. Not a man who treats her in such a fashion.”

  The little hairs at Logan’s nape bristled. “Treats her in what fashion?”

  Henry flushed and fiddled with his napkin. “Well . . . He didn’t bring her home. He let her walk . . . Why, if I were ten years younger . . .”

  Hanna’s father rambled on, but Logan had lost the thread of the conversation. His mind spun.

  She was free.

  She deserved to follow her heart. Not be led by purse strings. If he was going to have any kind of future with her—and he was determined he would—he wanted it to be on her terms.

  But first, somehow, he needed to get the family out from under Zack Pucey’s thumb. He stared down at his bowl of chili and an idea occurred to him. It was brilliant, really. And so simple . . . Resolution firmed in his gut.

  “Son?” Henry Stevens leaned across the table. “Are you all right?”

  Logan shot him a sly smile. “I’m fine, Mr. Stevens,” he said. “Just fine. Say, this chili is amazing. Would you mind if I took some of it to go?”

  Sidney gaped at him, but Hanna’s father grinned like a loon. “Of course, son. I’d be happy to send some home with you. And call me Henry.”

  Logan ignored Cody’s contemplative stare. No doubt his friend had guessed what he had in mind, but until he knew if his plans would come to fruition, he was keeping his own counsel.

  If this worked, Hanna would never have to worry about money, or Zack Pucey again.

  There was still the chance that she would be furious when she found out who he was. And what he’d kept from her. There was still the chance she’d never want to see him again once she knew the truth.

  But he wouldn’t think about that now.

  He couldn’t.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hanna fully expected the notice of foreclosure to arrive first thing the next morning, but it didn’t. She expected a visit from Zack and, perhaps, if she was honest, a visit from Logan as well. She spent most of the morning preparing for them to arrive.

  She was disappointed on all counts.

  It was practically anticlimactic.

  Though, if she were honest, only one count truly disappointed her.

  Deep in her heart, she really wanted to see Logan again. Needed to.

  She peppered her father with questions about Logan’s visit last night, but he had little to say, other than he seemed like a decent man who’d been truly very worried about her . . . and he could handle his chili.

  But to Dad, that was about all it took to rise high in his estimation.

  He often said he never had much respect for a man who couldn’t handle serious chili.

  With a sigh, she’d let the topic drop.

  Sidney had left late last night to head back to Fort Worth, because she had to work in the morning, and Mom was certainly no distraction, so Hanna headed out to her studio, the small greenhouse her father had converted for her, and painted the day away.

  There was something about painting, something so spiritual and therapeutic. With each stroke, the fog surrounding her seemed to clear. As she created, she worked through the recent events in a way she never could have without this outlet. She thought about Zack and their relationship, remembering this conversation or that interaction.

  She was surprised at all the little things she’d missed, all the clues, to his true nature. She suddenly understood why none of the other men in town ever asked her out, or talked to her, or looked at her. They weren’t indifferent to her. They were afraid of Zack.

  She saw clearly why Randall Jones had refused to show her paintings in his shop—because Zack had told him not to.

  And she had no doubt Zack had deliberately led her father into a bad investment, encouraged him into over-mortgaging the ranch. All to try to force her into a marriage with him.

  It was creepy.

  And with each revelation, her fury at Zack rose.

  She couldn’t help being a little annoyed at Logan as well. And not just because she’d expected him to visit or call or something, and he hadn’t. She was annoyed because he’d had the opportunity to tell her the truth—that he knew who she was—but he hadn’t.

  Why was it his duplicity hurt more than Zack’s?

  Oh, she knew why.

  She cleaned off her brush and sat back to study her painting. Then grunted and pulled out a fresh canvas, immediately beginning another.

  The fact of the matter was, Logan meant more to her than Zack ever had. Or ever would.

  She didn’t care if she never saw Zack again. Logan was another matter entirely.

  As annoyed as she was at him, she wanted to see him. Ached to see him.

  It bothered her that he didn’t call or text . . . until she remembered he didn’t have her number, or she his.

  He’d come to her house last night to make sure she was all right . . . but had that only been because it was the gentlemanly thing to do? Was that the end of it?

  Damn, she wished she’d set aside her embarrassment and gone downstairs last night. She wished she could have seen him at least one more time.

  She thought about calling Cody to get his number, but decided that was stupid. And desperate.

  If he really wanted to see her again, if what they’d shared had meant as much to him as it did to her, he would contact her. Wouldn’t he?

  But he didn’t.

  The week went by without a word from him.

  Hanna tried to ignore the dust devil of panic swirling in her soul, but it was difficult.

  Her dark mood was even more difficult to take because Dad’s was unaccountably cheery.

  Any minute now the bank could—and would—foreclose. But he walked around the house whistling and puttering in the kitchen “perfecting his chili” as though the sword of Damocles didn’t hang over their heads by a thread.

  And as his mood got lighter and lighter, hers sank into the doldrums. As hard as she tried to think of a way out of this pickle, she couldn’t.

  On Thursday she received an email from Amy asking for a meeting to chat about the showing of Hanna’s work she was planning at the gallery. It was a relief to get out of the house, to get away from Snake Gully to the bustling city of Fort Worth.

  Her desperation to find some other solution to her father’s troubles had become unbearable. It was naïve to think one gallery showing could change any of that, but it was a hint of hope, something she could hold on to.

  If her paintings could capture some attention, there was the possibility her hobby could become a paying job. At the very least, it could become a source of income to support her family.

  When they had to move out of the ranch, leave the only home she and her mother had ever known, it would be nice to have some money for a down p
ayment on a house or an apartment. Or something.

  Lord love him, her father seemed to be drifting even deeper and deeper into denial. The thought of losing him, as well as her mother, haunted her. It was bad enough that they would all be homeless as soon as the boom fell.

  She met Amy at a coffee shop near her gallery. Hanna ordered a decaf Americano and Amy ordered her trademark caramel Frappuccino. She poked at the pouf of whipped cream with her straw.

  “How . . . are you doing?”

  Hanna disliked the way Amy studied her face. The bruises were fading, but even makeup couldn’t hide the worst of it. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine. How are things with Zack?”

  “Awesome.” Hanna forced a smile. “It’s over.”

  Amy stared at her. Shifted in her seat. “And . . . how do you feel about that?”

  “It’s a relief, really.” But there were other issues. Of course, she didn’t want to talk about that. None of her friends knew the truth about her family’s troubles, and she wanted to keep it that way.

  Amy relaxed. “Good. I’m glad. I mean, I only got a glimpse of him that morning before he dragged you off. But I didn’t like his . . . energy.”

  “He was angry.” A flush rose on her cheeks. Did Amy know that Zack had come to the Double Stud to find her returning from a tryst with one of the ranch hands? In her nightgown? God, she hoped not.

  “Yeah.” Amy snorted. “I got that. I was pretty worried about you. When Sidney and Cody came back saying they couldn’t find you . . . both Porsche and I were worried sick. It was a relief when Sidney called to say you were okay.” She frowned. “And then I didn’t hear from you.” The pucker on Amy’s face was concerning. And the way she played with the paper from her straw.

  “I’m sorry.” Hanna balled up her napkin. “I should have called.”

  “You should have. But anyway . . . I have news,” she said.

  A thread in her voice captured Hanna’s attention. “Yes?”

  “We have to cancel your opening.”

  Hanna’s belly sank. Straight to the center of the Earth. “What? Why?”

  Amy’s grin was incongruous with this news. “Because, darling . . .” She pulled a slip of paper from her purse and slid it across the table. “Someone came in and bought every piece.”