by Beth K. Vogt
Her eyes flew open, and she stared into an unfamiliar pair of light brown eyes. Startled, she stepped out of Logan’s embrace. “Who is this?”
Logan grabbed her hand again, moving her forward. “Vanessa, this is Brady. I met him at school this semester. He’s a meteorology major like me. Brady, this is my wife, Vanessa.”
Brady nodded, offering her a cockeyed grin and a brief wave. “A lot of us couldn’t believe Logan had a wife—especially some of the girls in our classes.”
“Hey.” Logan lifted his left hand. “I always wore my wedding ring.”
“And now I’ve met the missus, so I can vouch for you.”
“Does Brady live in Niceville, too?” Vanessa fought to keep up with the conversation.
“No.” Logan refocused on her. “His parents are stationed overseas—and he’s stateside for the holidays. So I invited him to come spend the break with us.”
His words were a verbal douse of cold water to Vanessa’s emotions. “He’s staying here?”
“Sure. We’ve got the bedroom, and I told Brady that he’d have to surf the couch. He’s good with that.”
Brady took a few steps back. “Let me go get our stuff off the motorcycle.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Logan motioned him inside. “We can do that later.”
“Not a problem.” Brady disappeared outside.
Vanessa pulled her hand free from Logan’s. “You didn’t mention Brady was coming home with you.”
“Well, I wasn’t sure he was until yesterday. And I knew you wouldn’t mind—I mean, you of all people understand being a military kid, right? And what did your mother always say? ‘There’s always room for one more’?”
“But, Logan, you didn’t tell me.”
“What was I supposed to do? Leave the guy on campus for Christmas?”
“No, of course not. I’m not saying that.” Vanessa rearranged the still-warm cookies into a neater pile. Logan hadn’t even noticed them. “I was just excited about seeing you, that’s all.”
“And you will see me.” He came up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her up against him. “I’m right here for an entire month.”
“And so is Brady.”
“He’s a great guy. It’ll be fun.”
Fun. Right.
• • •
Logan crawled into bed next to Vanessa, who lay on her side, knees pulled up to her chest, her hair spilling across the pillow. Two-thirty in the morning. Whoa. He hadn’t expected to be out that late with Brady and a few of his high school buddies, playing video games at one guy’s house. He couldn’t blame her for not waiting up—but why hadn’t she come along with them?
He eased closer to his wife, molding his body to the curve of her back, inhaling the familiar scent that lingered in her hair. Beautiful. He hadn’t forgotten the enticement of sleeping with Vanessa, but being this close to her caused all his senses to go on heightened alert. He stroked his fingertips along the length of her neck and down her shoulder.
“I’m awake.”
Vanessa’s words were spoken as a statement—not an invitation. No warmth, not even the hint of I’ve been waiting for you. Welcome home.
“I’m sorry if I woke you up—”
“No. No, I was awake when you came in.” She rolled onto her back, shrugging out of his embrace, effectively putting distance between them.
Now he could see the shadowed lines of her face, thanks to the bit of light shining in through the bedroom window. In the semidarkness, he noted the tight lines bracketing her mouth.
“You okay?”
“How can you even ask me that?” The question was a verbal smack, even as she remained motionless in the bed.
“I don’t understand—”
She pressed the palm of her hand against her mouth, the sound of her deep inhale—hold—and exhale filling the room with tension so palpable Logan wanted to reach out and shove it away.
“What’s wrong, Vanessa?”
“Now you ask me that—what? Four days before I leave for Tallahassee?” She stared at the ceiling. “You go to Oklahoma for college because it’s your dream. You don’t come home for Thanksgiving because you have homework—”
Logan propped himself up on one elbow. “Hey, we both agreed to that decision!”
“You made up your mind before you ever talked to me about it—don’t deny it. And then you come home for Christmas with your buddy—and you spend all your time hanging with him and your high school friends.”
“I just want Brady to have a good time. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” She rolled over so he was staring at her back again.
“Vanessa, if you’re mad at me, say so.”
Silence.
And then, just when he was beginning to think, What am I supposed to do, sit up all night and make her talk to me? she bolted upright.
“I am not going to remind you that you’re married.”
“What are you talking about?”
“And I am not going to beg you to pay attention to me.”
“Vanessa—”
“But bringing a—a guy home for Christmas break when it was our first time together since we left for college . . . well, you’re the biggest idiot I ever met.”
“Hey! I was being a nice guy. What was I supposed to do?”
She rounded on him, holding the blankets up around her chest. “How about talking to me first, so I’m not surprised when some stranger walks into our house?”
“It’s my parents’ house, Vanessa. They don’t mind that Brady’s here.”
She stared at him openmouthed, and then lay down on the bed, rolling away from him again.
“Don’t act like that, Vanessa—”
Her words were flung at him over her shoulder. “Like what? Like my husband prefers his buddies to me? Like I’m ‘company’ in his parents’ house?”
“That’s not what I said—”
“Then you weren’t listening to yourself, Logan. I heard everything you said—everything.”
When he reached for her, she shifted away. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.”
“Vanessa, we need to talk about this.”
“If we had talked about it before you came home, we wouldn’t be having this argument now.” She pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. “Good night.”
He lay on his back, his head resting on his hands. His turn to stare up at the ceiling. How could he make this right? It was too late to redo the holidays—and would he have made a different decision? No. He would never leave Brady alone for Christmas and New Year’s. Why couldn’t Vanessa understand that?
TWENTY
Coming events cast their shadows before.
—JAMES JOYCE (1882–1941), NOVELIST, IN ULYSSES
“Nessa, who was that guy?”
Ted’s question might as well have been a ball and chain, dragging her to a stop halfway to Mindy’s front door. Were they going to have this discussion in the front yard? Did they have to talk about “that guy” at all?
“We went to high school together.”
Yes, she was hedging. Lying by omission. But she wasn’t doing this here, in wet clothes, reeking of the Gulf.
Ted stalked toward her. Always-calm Ted—advancing on her, feet pounding the pavement, looking as if he wanted to shake her.
“Who is he, Vanessa?”
She shook the tangled mess of her hair, the strands stiff with salt water. “Logan Hollister, my ex-husband. Are you satisfied? Can we go inside now? Please?”
She sat on the top porch step in front of Mindy’s idyllic home and pulled off her lacy half boots. Ruined. Ted’s shadow fell over her.
“What?”
His hair fell forward into his eyes. “You can really ask me that? As if finding you on a motorcycle with your ex-husband is not a problem.”
“It’s not a problem.” She abandoned her soggy boots on the steps and retreated to the house.
The scent of gril
led fish and buttery garlic bread lured Vanessa’s attention away from Ted—until he slammed the door behind them. Ted, who never raised his voice, even when they watched a football game and the Broncos were losing with the clock counting down the final minute of the game. And now he came into someone else’s house and slammed the door.
Mindy appeared in the kitchen doorway, balancing a clear glass bowl brimming with green salad, red tomato slices, and thin rounds of yellow peppers. She must have corralled the puppies in the laundry room off the kitchen, their high-pitched yipping sounding behind her.
“Everything okay out here?” A bogus smile stretched across her face.
“Yes.”
Mindy scrunched her nose. “You’re . . . wet.”
“I know.” The sticky-wet strands of her hair clung to her neck. “Don’t ask.”
“Go ahead. Ask.” Ted stood behind her, his voice a near-shout. “She just rode up on a motorcycle with her ex-husband.”
There was no missing the way Mindy’s eyes widened before Vanessa whipped around to face the man behind her.
“What is wrong with you?”
“What is wrong with me? I come down here to surprise my fiancée—and I find her gallivanting around with the man she was married to ten years ago.” He paced circles around her, his voice rising, overriding the barking of the puppies. “Soaking wet because she’s fallen in the ocean. And I don’t know why she’s romping in the ocean with her ex-husband—”
“Ted Topliff!” Vanessa pressed her palm to her forehead, closing her eyes. This was not happening. Not happening. “I am going to get a shower. Then we are going to eat dinner like two rational, civilized people with Mindy and her husband. And then—and only then—will I discuss this with you. Is that clear?”
“And what if I want to discuss it now?”
“Not an option. You’re being irrational. I’ve never seen you act like this.”
“I could say the same thing.”
Mindy’s husband opened the door to the back porch, looking inside, oblivious to the ongoing argument playing out in his living room. “Amberjack will be ready in ten minutes!”
Vanessa backed down the hallway. “As I said, I’m going to grab a quick shower before dinner. We’ll talk afterward.”
When she returned to the kitchen, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing dry boot-cut jeans and a favorite Pemberley-style blouse, the house was quiet. Even the puppies dozed.
“Is Ted out back with Jett?”
Mindy leaned against the kitchen counter. She shook her head, her hands twisting together. “He left, Vanessa.”
“What do you mean, ‘he left’?”
“You went to get a shower, and he walked out.”
Vanessa ran to the front door, throwing it open. “Why didn’t you come get me?”
“I thought he was just going outside to think. Get some fresh air. I didn’t realize he was going to drive off until I heard the car start up.” Mindy came to stand beside her. “I thought you said he was this calm kind of guy.”
“He is. I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Oh, come on. You rode up with Logan.”
“It’s nothing . . .”
“And I don’t believe that any more than Ted does, girlfriend. You both looked guilty—like two high-schoolers who missed curfew.”
Had Mindy watched the whole interaction from her front window? Wonderful. She’d known that smile was fake. Vanessa ignored Mindy’s comment. “I don’t even know why he’s here.”
“He said he wanted to surprise you—” Mindy paused, as if debating what to say next. “—and he mentioned something about being asked to be part of the planning committee for the medical conference he’s attending after the wedding.”
Vanessa had nothing to say. Of course it had to be romance plus something else with Ted.
“Dinner’s ready.” Jett entered the house, the platter of freshly grilled fish hefted above his head.
“Okay, sweetheart. We’ll be right there.” Mindy stepped in front of Vanessa, preventing her from walking away. “You don’t have to tell me what did or didn’t happen with you and Logan—but eventually you have to talk to Ted. And then you have to figure out if you’re going to marry the guy.”
Vanessa crossed her arms. “Of course I am.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I am.” Vanessa stared her friend down. “I’m marrying Ted.”
“Are you saying that because you want to marry the guy—or because you’re trying to convince yourself?”
“Mindy, I appreciate your concern—really, I do. But I asked you to be my matron of honor because I’m marrying Ted next April. I know what I’m doing.” Vanessa shut the front door.
“Sure you do.”
She took two steps past her friend—and halted. “What did you say?”
“I said let’s go eat.”
“Sure you did.”
• • •
Logan brought the motorcycle to a stop inside his parents’ garage. Cut the engine. Stared at the wall in front of him covered with a white pegboard lined with straight rows of tools—hammers, screwdrivers, wrenches.
Why was he sitting here, staring at yet another corner of his father’s well-ordered world? He needed to get inside and change out of his wet boots and jeans.
And then he needed to figure out how to place an ad in the Gazette. It was time to sell the motorcycle—past time. A nice, brief ad—something like, “UNWANTED MOTORCYCLE FOR SALE. CHEAP. BEST OFFER. SHOULD HAVE BEEN SOLD YEARS AGO.”
He shucked his boots off in the air lock, leaving his damp socks lying beside them. His waterlogged jeans chafed against his legs.
The kitchen was silent but filled with the aroma of buttery popcorn. Laughter drifted in from the direction of the pool area. Caron and Alex sat in two of the lounge chairs, their hands linked. Julie and Max were at the deep end of the pool, Max’s arms encircling Julie.
Well, well, well. Was this the first official sighting of the Stormmeisters’ romance?
Caron waved without lifting her head from the chair. “Hey, big brother. Where have you been all day?”
“Out.”
“O-kay.” Caron sat up at the sharpness of his tone. “Sounds like you had a wonderful day.”
“Hey, boss!” Max waved, keeping one arm around Julie, who looked content to stay where she was.
“Where’s Brady?”
“I think he’s upstairs packing.”
“Team meeting in half an hour.”
“What?” Julie twisted to face him. “Can’t that wait until we get back to Oklahoma?”
“Half an hour.” Logan backed out of the room. “I’m going to get a shower, and we’ll meet in the family room. Somebody tell Brady.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Logan couldn’t help but overhear Caron ask, “What’s his problem?” as he left the room.
Thirty minutes later Brady, Max, and Julie were all gathered in his parents’ family room. Brady stood near the stone fireplace, his hands tucked in his pockets. Julie and Max chose to sit next to one another on the leather couch, Max’s arm resting across her shoulders.
Logan finished off his second soda as he stalked into the room. He’d tried praying, tried asking God what to say, how to tell the team of his decision. But the entire time he’d showered, all he could think of was Vanessa. Kissing her again—and the wrongness of his action. The futility of it. And then bringing her back to Mindy’s—straight to her fiancé. The man who had a right to kiss her. To touch her. And all because he’d been stupid. Stubborn. Too afraid to go after his wife. To figure out what he needed to do to make their marriage work.
Well, he was done with being scared. At least facing his mistakes with Vanessa helped him face his mistakes with his team—and do what he needed to do. There was no reason to wait until they got back to Oklahoma.
Straight up was the best option. Then they could all deal with the reality.
Julie offered him
a shaky smile. “Hey, I know you want to talk with us. But I wanted to let you know I got our boarding passes for tomorrow—”
Sweet Jules. Always trying to find a way to smooth things over. To keep things working well.
“Thanks. I forgot all about that.”
“No problem.”
His team. Julie, who worked a camera like it was her third eye. And Max, who might never grow up—but had mad computer skills that let him process incoming storm data while Logan drove. And Brady, who was already dreaming of a storm-chasing team with him during freshman year of college, eager, willing to learn, with the driving skills of a professional race car driver, who manned the second car. Who loved the mystery of weather as much as Logan did.
His decision was going to hurt them as much as it hurt him. Maybe more.
Logan anchored his feet to the ground and faced the three people he trusted most in the world. “So, there are going to be some changes coming up for the team.”
“Changes? What kind of changes?” Brady was the first to speak up, crossing his arms over his chest, covering the Stormmeisters logo on his black T-shirt.
“Let me finish, okay? I’ll explain the initial change. You three decide what happens after that.” Logan scrubbed his hand across his jaw. “I’m leaving the team.”
The trio reacted as if he’d lobbed a bomb into the room. Julie gasped, turned white, her hand going to her throat.
“What?” Max struggled to his feet, ignoring his crutches.
“Are you out of your mind?” Brady’s voice rose above Max’s. “You’re the team leader. Our boss.”
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while. We’ve had a good run—and it’s time for me to move on.”
“Are you going to another team?”
What kind of question was that? “No. I would never do that.”
“Then what are you doing? Just quitting? To do what—go sell cars?” Brady stalked toward him. “You’re a storm chaser, man. It’s what you do.”
“Storm chasing is what I’ve done. I’m making a change.” Logan stood his ground even as Brady advanced on him. “People do that—they change. I’ll stay on while we process this year’s research data. After that, I don’t know. I’ve been looking at some other job opportunities.”