by S. M. Smith
I try to contain my drool. I may not cook, but I could easily relieve some serious stress in this beaut of a kitchen.
Making myself walk away from the kitchen that is bigger than my entire apartment back in Cali, I step out into the grand living room to find it’s a unique, but open plan that includes a dining area, complete with a long harvest table that could easily seat ten people. The actual seating area for the living room is sunken down, requiring a single step in the wooden floors to reach the dark leather sofas. The biggest flat screen I’ve ever seen sits over a beautiful weathered wood mantel perched atop a rock-faced fireplace. Two sets of dark French doors that appear to lead out to what looks like a state-of-the-art barbecue patio, sit on either side of the upper portion of the living room. The whole room is wooden—beautiful dark wood floors with lighter stained walls. Even the open beamed ceiling gives the whole set up a true cabin feeling, giving me the sensation that I’ve walked into a luxury ski resort.
Doing a full three-sixty, I see the house expands in opposite directions with hallways leading off to more of the first floor as well as a staircase that leads to what I can only assume is a loft. Another opening in the wall shows me where the actual front door is with a very homey looking foyer. A lonely pair of muddy boots sits next to a bench with a horseshoe hat rack attached to the wall above it. A giant cursive L covered in twine and adorned with a couple of yellow and white wildflowers hangs next to a picture mirror on the opposite wall, making me wonder what the story is behind the well done homemade decor.
My initial research found that Logan has never been married, or even engaged for that matter, but that he is close to his family. Aside from details of his parents living nearby with his two younger sisters and a brother who lives in and plays in California, I found nothing that gave way to Logan having any female attachments. Maybe the L is from a crafty sister or a doting mom? Just another piece in the puzzle that is Logan Lassiter.
I’m pulled from my wandering thoughts when an annoying high pitched shrill fills the air. I nearly jump out of my skin, afraid I touched something wrong when the door I came in through bursts open and a booming voice starts calling my name. I step back into the family area to find Logan, stopped a few feet away, searching the branches of the house frantically.
“Come on, we have to get downstairs. Right now.” He reaches for my arm and starts toward a door I missed in my inspection earlier. He pulls it open and flips a switch, illuminating a small platform with stairs that lead to what looks like a basement. He steps inside first and turns an open hand to me. “Watch your step. These stairs are a little steep.”
Pushing aside random fears that Logan is rushing me off to a room where he dismantles bodies, I take a step inside on complete faith that the only reason nobody knows anything about him isn’t because he’s some anonymous serial killer or anything. The earsplitting alarm starts a second round and makes me jump again.
“What is that?”
“Tornado siren. Come on.”
Tornadoes. I know nothing about tornadoes other than what I’ve seen on the news. Towns destroyed, nothing but broken two-by-fours and crumpled roofs. What in the world did I get myself into?
“This way.” Just as we finish descending the narrow steps, the lights cut out and then the real fear settles in. A second before I can start hyperventilating, Logan clicks on a flashlight. “It’s alright. Here take this one.”
He hands me the flashlight and I try to get my bearings by shining it around the passageway. When the light bounces off a glassy door, I can’t stop the gasp. I’ve seen too many detective shows to have my mind fabricate the worst possible ideas. Logan finally clicks on his own flashlight and follows my gaze.
“We can’t get any wine right now. With the power out, the cellar locks up. Something about preserving the integrity of the wine or something. Come on. There’s a shelter down here where we can ride this out.”
A wine cellar. Well that’s a reasonable explanation for a random glass door in your basement. Much better than a room full of cryogenic pods with human bodies from the sixties.
I really need to stop watching movies with Walt.
I turn and find that Logan isn’t standing where he was a second ago and I momentarily freeze up again until I hear Logan’s impatient voice.
“Allie, come on. Even though we’re in the basement, it’s actually safer in here. Please hurry.” I let the light of my flashlight flood the pathway before me and find that it’s a direct shot to the metal door that Logan is holding open. “Here we go.”
He pushes the door closed behind me, and searching the room I find a camping cot, complete with a hand-stitched quilt and a small pillow laying along one wall. A couple of bagged lawn chairs sit in another corner with a huge Rubbermaid container next to them. I sense Logan moving behind me and finally see his light following mine to the chairs and bin.
“Would you like some water?” He hands me a chair and turns back around to open the mini fridge I missed next to the door. He pulls out a couple of bottles of water and starts to hand me one, but I’m still standing there like an idiot with the bagged chair in my hands. “Do you need help with that?”
I shake the light along with my head, accidentally flashing my light in his eyes. He winces back and I mutter my apologies as he takes the light from me.
“I’m sorry. I…I’ve never been in a tornado before.” And it has me all sorts of rattled.
“Well, I don’t think we’re in an actual tornado, but I can honestly say that should one form, you’re probably in the best place to ride it out. Here.” He takes the light from me and props it on its handle so the beam goes straight up toward the ceiling, illuminating more of our space. Then he takes the chair from me and sets it up. I think I see an amused smile on his face when he hands me a water, but with the shadows of the room, I could be wrong.
As he makes himself comfortable his phone rings and I realize I have no way of checking in with anyone. He checks the screen before he answers and makes his way to the farthest corner of the room away from me.
“Hey… No, we’re in the basement… Yep, she’s here. What about you guys?… Where is she?…Of course, she is. Is she at least somewhere safe?…Yep. I saw the wall cloud, but it didn’t look like it was going to head this way. They’re unpredictable though, so promise me you’ll stay safe…Okay. Love you too.”
He hangs up his phone and turns to me, finding me watching him and this time I can’t miss the hardening of his jaw.
“Everyone okay?” I ask, genuinely concerned.
“Yep.”
That’s it. That’s all I get. This is going to be a long three weeks.
“Do you guys get tornadoes often?”
“Not really.”
I sigh. I can’t help it. “Listen, Logan.—” I’m cut off with the sound of his phone ringing again.
He holds up a finger and answers. “Did you get all the horses in?… And everyone’s in the shelter?…Good. Let me know when they give the all clear…Will do. You guys too.”
He hangs the phone up and gives me another deadpan look. “Sorry about that. You were saying?”
“I just wanted to say that I know that this article is kind of a big deal to both of us, so I’m going to do whatever I can to make it go smoothly. But that also kinda means that you’re going to have to give me the benefit of the doubt and open up just a bit. I’d say I don’t need your entire life story, but I really do.” That jaw hardens again. “I know that some people—and I’m guessing you belong to this group—don’t like everyone knowing their business. So I promise to only report the things that will help make you a positive image in the fans’ eyes. Can you trust me to do that?”
He doesn’t answer; he just stares me down. Even in the dim light, I can see that his eyes would reflect the deepest waters of the sea. I’m not sure what nerve I’ve struck, but apparently it isn’t a good one.
“Miss Mooreland—”
“Allie. We’re going to be spendi
ng some serious time together the next few weeks. We might as well be on a first name basis.”
He presses his lips together, clearly not happy with my statement, but acquiesces on my request anyway. “Fine, Allie. You’re right, I am one of those people. I don’t like people knowing my business, so you’ll probably find me harder to work with than most of the people you’ve interviewed.”
Try anyone I’ve ever interviewed.
“But let me make a few things perfectly clear. I will not allow you to slander my family’s name in any way, shape, or form. If I tell you something is off the record, or simply choose not to answer your question, that is the end of it. I will not answer a single question multiple times, so asking again will only be a waste of your, and ultimately my, time. And lastly, I run a full-fledged ranch here. I cannot and will not be at your beck and call while you’re in Walker, so please make efficient use of our time together.”
Oh dear, this is going to my hardest assignment yet. All concerns for the raging weather above us is forgotten as I do my best to rein in my heightening temper.
“I see. Well, since we’re here, I need to clear the air as well. First, I have never and do not ever plan on slandering anyone’s name. Secondly, I understand the circumstances of your home here, and will do my best to ‘make efficient use’ of my time here. And lastly, I understand your need for privacy and promise to only venture onto topics that help me understand what makes you such a fantastic player. However, I am here with one goal in mind: to make America fall in love with Logan Lassiter. That means knowing all that I’ve got working against me, so I can’t guarantee that everything I ask about is always going to be roses and sunshine. So like I said, I will do my best to respect your privacy. But I am good at my job and again, I must ask you to trust me.”
A stare down of epic proportions starts and honestly I have to say I’m admiring his sense of determination. Finally he looks away, still working that jaw. He must have a really good dentist.
“Fine.”
I almost sigh in relief. Almost.
Thunder claps so loudly that it sounds like it is in the room above us, making me jump again.
“It’s just thunder, that’s a good sign actually.” Logan sits back and actually looks like he’s relaxing in the midst of this storm. I, on the other hand, have started flipping my dead phone over and over in my hand. At one point while we continue to wait in silence, I start to ask if there is someplace that can charge my phone, but then the intellectual part of my brain starts working again and reminds me we’re sitting in the dark for a reason.
Logan’s phone starts ringing again and with one glance my way, he decides to forgo moving back to the corner to take the call.
“Yes…Okay. Thank you.” He hangs the phone up and stands. “It’s all clear.”
Oh thank you, Jesus!
We don’t speak as we pack up our chairs and make our way back toward the stairs. Just as we’re about to ascend, the lights flutter back on and Logan stops mid-step, making me bump right into him. Like my face meets his lower back and when I put my hands up to stop myself from falling backward, I grab hold of the first thing I can to stable myself—his hips.
Talk about getting up close and personal.
“Um, sorry.” I immediately let go, only to sway backward and nearly fall off the bottom step. But a warm hand shoots out and grabs hold of mine, sending sparks flying through my veins. Instinctively he pulls me to him, bracing us against the wall.
“I got ya. Here.” He steps out of the way and helps pull me up onto the same step he’s on. I get my balance back only to realize that there is quite literally next to no space between us. The air gets super thick and a lump gets stuck in my throat.
I haven’t been this close to anyone in a long time and the fluttering in my stomach is quick to remind me of that. But our conversation from earlier replays in my mind, reminding me of the man behind the disarmingly good looking mask. Clearing the fog gets easier and in no time at all, I’m able to finish my way up the stairs. I don’t turn around to make sure that Logan made it up too, but I hear when his boots hit the wood floors of his family room.
A quick glance out the window tells me that a tornado didn’t rip through the countryside, so I start to make my way outside. Just as I step back into the stunning kitchen I’ll be daydreaming about for the rest of my life, Logan’s phone starts ringing again.
“Hey. Have you left shelter yet?…Yep. Just got upstairs. Haven’t seen anything…Okay, I’ll be over in just a bit.” By the time he steps into the kitchen he’s hung the phone up but startled to see me still standing there gawking at his home.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, clearly seeing the stress furrow his brow
“Yep.”
Crossing my arms, I plant myself to wait for further explanation. A heavy exhale and a hand through his hair later, he finally speaks up. “A tree fell on my parents’ barn. Nobody was hurt, but they need help getting the tree off of it before it falls any further and damages more than just the building.”
See? Was that really that hard?
“What can I do to help?”
He looks at me as if I’ve grown a second set of arms. “What do you mean help? You need to get checked in to your hotel or whatever and come back tomorrow. We can meet after dinner, say around six, six-thirty.”
Shake my head, I knew he was going to say something like that. “Is there even an inn left? If a tornado came through here—”
“You’re staying in Walker?” he asks, aghast.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because we only have the inn. The nearest hotel has to be—”
“In the city. And I’m not driving over an hour every time I need to see or talk to someone here.”
Another hand through his hair. That pretty head of his is going to go prematurely bald if he keeps that up. “We don’t know if anything touched down. How about we just drive through town and see what damage has been done.”
I nod, trying to brace myself for up close images of destroyed homes and businesses. Twenty minutes later it has been determined that a tornado didn’t actually touch down in town, but the wind was so bad that it took out a couple of the store-front windows on several of the downtown shops, blew down all three stoplights on the main strip, and caused several transformers throughout the community—including the one that feeds power to the one line to the inn—to blow up. When we pull up to the inn, a group of weary looking firefighters are exiting the building. This doesn’t look good.
“Hey, Logan. Your ranch fare okay?” An alert looking police officer wearing a shiny badge on his left shoulder that identified himself as Sheriff Perry reaches a hand out to Logan. He couldn’t be much older than Logan, but the hair around his temples is peppered with bits of gray, a telltale sign that he’s seen his fair share of stress. Judging by the look of his town, I can understand why.
“Yeah, we’re good. Dad had a tree fall on the barn, though. We’re headed over there in a few.” The good sheriff nodded my way before doing a double take. His wide eyed look is missed by the football star who can’t pry his own eyes off the blackened building. “A fire? Really?”
The sheriff shakes his head, apparently used to Logan’s single-track mind. “Yeah. Power surged when lightning hit the transformer. The place needed an update ten years ago. Looks like they’ll have to replace the electrical now. We were able to contain it to just the one room though. Should be able to get things back up and running in a couple of weeks.”
Logan and I sigh heavily at the same time, bringing an amused look too the good sheriff.
“You staying long, Allie?” Remembering my manners I reach out my hand and formally introduce myself. The sheriff blushes a little when we shake hands, but the ring on his left hand makes me chalk it up to just being star struck.
“I’m doing a piece on our favorite wide receiver here.” Logan’s jaw ticks again. “I just drove in from San Antonio today, but it looks like I’ll be in and
out for the next few weeks.”
“Well, welcome to Walker, although you picked a doozy of a day to arrive.” He nods at us with a tired smile before being called away. I take in a deep breath and cringe at the sight of the fire damaged building in front of us.
“Awesome.” Logan’s sarcasm isn’t lost on me.
“What now?” My irritation bleeds out a bit more than it probably should but his long gaze down at me tells me that he’s about to do something he probably ought not to and that picks my hopes back up.
“Looks like you get to meet my family.”
Chapter Four
The truck bounces over the cattle grate while I take in the picturesque sight in front of me. A weathered, two-story farm house with a welcoming front porch faces the dirt drive that wraps around to the east side of the house and leads straight toward a newer looking big red barn. The barn, with large, white X’s on the sliding doors, would look like a storybook barn if it didn’t have a ninety-year-old tree leaning into and crashing down the south wall. A skirt of grass wraps around it, exposing the roots of the old tree. A green John Deere tractor is creeping its way toward the toppled tree, an older version of Logan at the wheel.
Logan parks his massive Dodge Ram next to a short line of other farm trucks, a well-kept 90s Ford Explorer, and a tiny Toyota Corolla that looks like it’s seen a few better days. When Logan comes around the front of the truck and offers a hand to help me climb down from his land yacht, two ladies coming down the wide front porch steps stop and do a double take. The older lady with the most adorable red ringlets I’ve ever seen has the same eyes as Logan and judging by the excitedly warm smile on her face, I’m guessing she’s his mother. The younger girl has the same shade of hair as Logan’s but her shorter stature and dark brown eyes give her a totally different appeal. The pleased grin on her face tells me she has to be way warmer than her older brother.