by S. M. Smith
Emma picks up a second cookie and steps away from the plate, determination to keep away from the rest of the batch warring with her obvious desire to consume the whole plate.
“What do you mean, ‘showed up with the stuff’? Didn’t he have the ingredients here?” Jillian slides the can back under the counter and turns to a pad of paper and a pen on the island.
“Oh, I don’t know. I, um…” Feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up my neck, I reach for my own cookie and take a quick bite. “I bake when I get upset, so I just left and got what I needed.”
Jillian puts the pen down and slumps back against the sink. “When you get upset.”
“What did Logan do now?” Emma asks as she picks up a bottle of Windex and sprays down the windows of the breakfast nook.
Tossing the rest of the cookie in my mouth, I cross my arms over my too big tshirt. “Well, we…we both kind of pushed each others buttons last night.”
Jillian’s momma temper flares in her eyes and I know that Logan is in for a good talking to just as soon as she can get her hand on him. Where is he anyway?
“What buttons of yours did he push?” One thin eyebrow climbs up her smooth forehead and I suddenly feel bad for Logan.
“It’s really nothing. I—”
Emma clears her throat. Over Jillian’s shoulder, I see Emma’s eyes dart toward her mother before coming back to me and shaking her head.
“What buttons did he push, Allie?” Jillian’s stern tone tells me she’s had to use it in regard to Logan a time or two.
“Nothing serious. I was trying to get some information for the article, but he would only answer if I would answer my own questions so when I asked him about Cassady, he—”
Emma’s chin drops to her chest as she sighs at the same time that Jillian’s nostrils flare.
“So you know about Cassady, then?” Jillian asks in a strict tone.
“Well, I was here when she dropped Hank off, so I got to meet her. By the way she picked my bones with her eyes, I figured there were some unresolved feelings for Logan there. So…” I swallow and suddenly wish it were Logan standing in place of his mother. I think I’d rather be on the receiving end of his arbitrary mood swings than to be here under Jillian’s raging glare.
“And what did Logan tell you about Cassady?” Jillian’s head tilts back just a bit as if she’s bracing herself for whatever I’m about to tell her. Emma’s wandering gaze stops on me as she awaits the answer herself. Well, it seems our dear Logan keeps things from his own family, too.
Glad it’s not just me.
“He just said that they were serious until he realized he couldn’t trust her anymore. That’s all he was willing to give me in exchange for a cookie, so…”
“So you bribed him with cookies?” Emma stiffles a chuckle and I wish I had thought of that idea last night.
“No, but now that you mention it.” Emma goes back to washing the windows, but Jillian is a woman on a mission.
“So how did his response about Cassady upset you?”
“It didn’t, because he didn’t give me a response until after I had started making the cookies. No, he…he, um, asked about my most recent serious relationship.”
I pick up another cookie even though my appetite is long gone. When I finally get the courage to look back at Jillian, she’s wearing the sincerest of apologetic smiles.
“And he pushed for an answer when you didn’t want to give one.” Sucking in her bottom lip, she turns and picks up the full trash bag, making quick work to the back door.
“Like I said, we pushed each other last night. He’s not totally to blame.” I don’t know why I feel like I should defend him, but it’s out there floating in the tense atmosphere before I can take it back.
Jillian stops with her hand on the handle to the back door. When her rich, chocolate eyes meet mine a sad smile plays on her face, but she doesn’t say a word as she opens the door and steps outside.
***
As it turns out, Logan doesn’t seem to trust anyone. The whole reason his mother and sister have been meandering through the house is because he won’t hire a housekeeper. He covers Emma’s dorm tuition in the city in exchange for her weekly appearance to clean his house for him and do his grocery shopping. After last night’s conversation and watching the devotion for his family the night we were at their farm, I’m not all that surprised. Jillian just happened to want to spend time with her daughter while she was out for summer break, which is what Jillian had claimed when I didn’t ask, but when Jillian went to tidy up Logan’s study Emma said she wanted to make sure that Logan was holding up his offer to let me stay here.
That thought makes me chuckle as I excuse myself back to my room to work on the article. My chuckles die quickly though when I realize that I don’t have a lot to go on. So I spend the next three hours playing our recorded conversations over and over again until I could almost quote them. Shortly after I move to the floor to spread out my notes, Hank appears and plants himself as close to my crossed legs as he can get. It didn’t take him long to get just so bored with my conversations with Logan that he falls asleep. Now that he’s snoring something horrible, I wish I actually had the heart to kick him out while I try to get creative.
A knock on my door frame is a welcome distraction until Emma gives me a weird look.
“I didn’t know you wear glasses.” She leans against the door frame, politely not entering my space.
“Only when I have to stare at a computer screen until my eyeballs want to jump out of my head I do.” I pull the oversized tortoiseshell specs off my face and rub the ache out of the spot between my brows. “Please, come in.”
“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt. I was just going to see if you needed anything washed. I’m working on Logan’s laundry now.”
I think I just fell in love with Logan’s sister. “You do not have to do my laundry for me. But I appreciate it.”
“I don’t mind at all. I do all of Logan’s, so.” She shrugs and gives me a full smile, adorable dimples and all.
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll let you show me where the laundry room is and how to work everything.”
“Deal.”
Sharp, tiny little needles prick at my legs when I gently push Hank away and try to stand. Trying not to fall on my face and make a complete fool of myself, I hobble across the room and gather up an armful of my dirty clothes before I get full feeling back into my legs. Finally shaking the last of the sleepiness away, I follow a chuckling Emma to a little room opposite the gym I’ve never noticed before. It takes a little while for me to get her instructions, but after I finally get the machine to start cleaning my clothes, I lean up against the wall next to the door and watch as Emma folds a bunch of t-shirts and gym shorts, the pile is almost so high that it could topple over any second.
“You do a lot for your brother.”
She shrugs and gives me a content smile. “He does a lot for me and my family. I don’t mind helping him out where I can.”
“Logan says that you’re a PR and marketing major. Can I ask what made you want to get into something like that?”
She chokes out a laugh and gives me a “are you serious?” look. “I have two brothers who are walking disasters when it comes to public relations. Someone needs to keep their butts out of trouble.”
That brings me a smile to my face until I realize I have no idea what she means by that in regards to Drew. With Logan, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand the man would rather gouge out his eyes with a spork than talk to the media about himself. But with Drew, he’s always seemed to be one to not mind the attention. Before I can verbalize any of my questions though, she asks one of her own.
“So how long are you planning on staying here? At the ranch, I mean.”
“Oh, well, I’m actually supposed to fly out to some town upstate tomorrow. There’s this high school prodigy that is walking on as A&M’s star quarterback at seventeen. Apparently he was able to get his diplo
ma a whole year early and finally signed with A&M last week. I’m supposed to meet up with him and the head coach for a blog post on Saturday. Then I’ll come back on Sunday. But if the inn’s back up and accepting guests, I’ll stay there instead.”
I smell him just before I hear his deep voice. “They just had the electrical updated, but the necessary renovations aren’t done yet. Hey, Em.”
I don’t know if I’m supposed to be disappointed that he checked with them already or relieved. “Oh, okay.”
She gives him a pointed look that I try to ignore. She picks up the basket she just piled all his clothes into and starts to excuse herself through the door that Logan and I are blocking. She reaches up on her tiptoes to peck his cheek. “I’m almost finished. Just need to put these away.”
“I can do that. Just put the basket on my bed.”
She adjusts so that she can prop the basket on her hip and free one hand to salute him. His normally impassive expression twists in amusement as she walks away, the look fading as he turns his attention back to me and my uncomfortable fidgeting.
“I called when you didn’t come right back last night,” he explains as he crosses those gigantic arms over his chest. The skin-tight Under Armour shirt he just so happens to be wearing shows off every muscle, every chiseled line of definition. To say just watching him stand there is intoxicating and ridiculously distracting would be putting it mildly.
I don’t mean to push out my chest as I inhale deeply, but the movement catches his attention. So I mimic his stance and cross my arms too.
“It’s not a big deal.” It actually is. I’ve wasted a week already and I have nothing. I need interviews with Logan and quotes from at least another half a dozen people from this tiny little town I’ve barely seen.
One wide hand runs through his unstyled hair as he blows out a slow breath. “How’s the article going?” His curious eyes look at me, hoping that I say “well” screaming from depths of his blue-green eyes.
“Um, well…”
An apologetic smile pulls at his lips. “That good, huh?”
My own hands find my rat’s nest of hair, fingers tangling in the strands I just pulled back and left in a mess on top of my head. “Honestly? I still have about twenty questions I had hoped to get through by today.”
“How about I do my best to get through as many of them as I can tonight? Can you be ready around 6?”
His question sounds suspicious. “I think I can manage.”
He smiles shyly and turns to leave. I start to follow him, but he abruptly stops again, causing me to nearly plow right into him. Catching my shoulders this time, he sets me on my two feet and leans back so he can look me in the eyes. Without removing his hands, his tone softens and I think I might melt.
“You know you’re welcome here as long as you need.”
“Do…do you think that’s such a good idea?” When did my voice get so thin?
He gives me a boyish smile and licks his bottom lip. Yikes!
“Well, I’m making it my personal mission to try to be nicer to you.”
“Are you now?” I don’t believe it for a second.
“I think you and I have a lot more in common than we realize, Allie.” A thought occurs to him and his smile turns even more playful. “Besides if I’m lucky, I might get more goodies out of you.”
Shoot me now.
He laughs at his own joke, and most likely the stony look I give him, as he finally lets go of me. It could be my imagination, but it seems like his hands slid down my arms to get in a little extra touching. He turns quickly and walks back toward the front of the house. Just before he turns the corner, he stops and looks back at me.
“Oh, and you’re going to want to wear jeans tonight.”
Chapter Ten
At ten till 6, I step out of my room in a clean pair of skinny jeans, a gray boyfriend t-shirt and my leopard print flats and make my way to the kitchen. Logan takes one look at my outfit and shakes his head, a half-eaten protein bar in his hand.
“What? You said jeans.”
He finishes the bar in one bite and opens the cabinet door to the trash can to throw the wrapper away.
“That I did. Come on.” He picks up a small collapsible cooler and holds his hand out to let me through the back door first.
Not having a clue as to what our plans are, I wait for him to pull the door closed and follow him to his truck. He pulls the passenger door open for me and then steps back to put the cooler in the bed of the truck before shutting my door for me.
The early evening sun is slowly inching its way toward the horizon, still heating the late June evening air. I’m thankful I grabbed my sunglasses because Logan jumps in the truck and starts it in the direction of the fence behind the house where we have a beautiful, albeit blinding, view of the horizon.
“Where are we going?” I ask just as he starts to slow the truck. He gives me a smirk under his shiny aviators as he puts the truck in park.
“It’s a surprise.” He hops out of the truck without another word and jogs toward a wide gate. He makes quick work of opening the gate and pulling through, but instead of getting out to close it behind us, he waves at a young kid who comes sprinting from the stable.
“I’m sorry, boss. I’ve got it for you,” the kid calls through Logan’s open window. Logan waves him off the hook and slowly pulls through the field. As the rugged terrain jostles the heavy truck, a rattling from behind my seat makes me nervous. I look to the floorboard behind me and find the butt of a gun coming out from under the back seat.
“Um, Logan. I know we don’t get along that well and all, but I didn’t think you wanted to off me or anything.”
His confused brow turns to me, watching me stare at the floorboard behind us. After a quick glance out the windshield, the truck slows just a bit and he leans back so he can see what I’m staring at. A hearty laugh spills out of his thick chest and if I wasn’t so afraid of being taken out into the middle of nowhere with a shotgun I might have joined him.
“That’s only there in case we run into any friends of my team’s mascot while we’re out here.”
It takes me a moment to get what he’s saying, and though his laughter seems to have relaxed him, I’m still very much concerned Logan will be returning to the house without me tonight.
“Relax, Allie.” He slows the truck again and I finally turn back to the landscape in front of us.
A large pond the size of half a football field sits in the middle of the pasture. A cluster of trees lines one side of it, giving off the perfect little hideaway. He maneuvers the truck so that the bed of it faces the pond before rolling down the windows and killing the engine.
“We’re here.”
True terror keeps me from moving an inch. My heart rate skyrockets as I watch him make his way to my side of the truck and open my door for me.
“Come on, Allie. You have stuff you wanted to ask me, remember?” He holds out a hand and I can’t bring myself to take it.
“How do I know you won’t whip that thing out the first time I ask you something you don’t want to answer?”
He tilts his head and narrows his eyes at me. “Now why haven’t I thought of that yet? Oh yeah, because it’s not polite to point guns at people. Come on, Allie. Don’t you trust me?”
Ironic that’s what he asks me now. But the truth is, I’ve slept in his guest room for almost a week now. If he wanted to kill me and dump my body on his back forty, he could have done it already.
“Fine. But the gun stays in the back seat.”
“Deal. Unless we find ourselves facing any rattlesnakes. I can’t afford to lose any cattle because you’re squeamish around firearms.”
Inhaling a lungful, I take his hand. Having completely forgotten the effect his touch has on me, I stumble on the running boards and trip into his waiting arms.
Talk about needing to trust him. He quickly moves to catch me so that my legs end up over one of his arms and the other is around my back. He shift
s and carries me toward the back of the truck, somehow managing to let the tailgate down without dropping me. He carefully sets me down on the tailgate, not saying one word as he turns back to close my door and pull the cooler out.
“What are we doing all the way out here? We could have talked out on the patio if you wanted to be outside.”
He smiles timidly, one hand snaking around the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You said you’ve never tailgated before.” He shrugs and turns to pull something else out from under the toolbox that lays across the front of his truck bed.
I can’t tell exactly what the small metal box is supposed to be until he props it up on the ground a few yards away from the truck.
“A grill? We’re seriously going to tailgate?” A rare joy boils up inside me as he turns around wordlessly, trying so hard to hide his pleased smile as he reaches for the cooler. He pulls out a package of bratwursts and waves them in front of me. My jaw drops in complete shock and awe.
“Are those even on the list of approved healthy options for the Logan Lassiter diet?” I ask, unable to wrap my head around what he’s doing for me.
“They are today.” He puts them down and holds out a bottle of water for me. “Sorry you’re not going to get the full experience. I couldn’t bring myself to buy any beer.” His nose wrinkles and the giddiness inside me comes out in a giggle.
“I don’t mind. That stuff is disgusting.” I take the water and forget all about the gun. That is until he snaps his fingers and makes his way back to the front of the truck. He pulls open the back door and I freeze. A second later, he pulls a plastic sack and a bag of charcoal I somehow missed on the way out here and closes the door. He lays the plastic sack on the tailgate and continues to lay out the charcoal in the small grill. I watch, completely blown away by his thoughtfulness, as he gets the fire going.
“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.” He looks up with a satisfied smile, letting me know I said that thought out load.