by S. M. Smith
“Gah!” I stomp my foot and try all my anger management techniques to avoid kicking his truck, only holding back at the thought of breaking a toe if I tried.
One side of his lips pick up and my blood begins to boil. He’s laughing at me. He’s seriously laughing at me. I have no idea why I thought he was attractive earlier. This back and forth is giving me the worst migraine.
“Allie, go pick out a pair of boots and your outfit for the dance, please. My stomach is about to eat itself and there’s this amazing little Mexican joint down the street that is calling my name.” He settles even further into his seat, clearly dismissing me.
I’m totally speechless as I stand there for a moment, waiting for him to tell me this is all some enormous joke, but when he reaches up, peeks under the cap and juts his chin out as if to ask me what the problem is now, all I can do is turn around and head right back into the store. Is this seriously happening? Less than twenty-four hours ago, Logan didn’t want me looking cross-eyed at his family or even seem like he wanted me in town by myself. But now that I know his secret, he’s all about holding my hand and assuming that I will be okay with being his plus-one to his hometown’s national celebration? I feel like I’ve missed some big piece of the puzzle that is Logan Lassiter that should be right in front of my face.
“So…” I find Emma sitting on a cushioned bench, eying me over a pair of red, tall-shafted cowgirl boots near the back of the store. “Are you going with Logan?”
I take a deep breath and am saved from trying to come up with some sort of answer when Lucy walks up behind me with an armload of boxes.
“Okay, so you can veto any of these. I’m just going off of what I remember seeing you wear on the show or at games.” She sets the stack of boxes on the floor next to the bench and Emma pats the seat beside her.
“Are those all cowboy boots?”
“Cowgirl, but trust me, they’re not as bad as you think.” She lifts the lid to reveal a pair of bright, turquoise colored boots with an intricate, white stitched detail. They’re not bad at all but my gut churns uncomfortably.
“Girls, seriously, I can’t do this. I can’t let Logan buy me boots.”
“You have to. It’s his way of apologizing. And if you don’t let him, he takes it as you not accepting his apology.”
“Doesn’t he know that saying the words ‘I’m sorry’ is just as effective as buying everyone’s affection.”
Emma gives me a patient smile. “It’s his love language. Gifts. He doesn’t know how to say things like ‘I’m sorry,’ ‘I love you,’ or anything that would portray his true feelings.” She must read something in my wide eyes because she backtracks really quickly. “Not that I think that—not that he loves you or—”
Lucy interjects trying to save her sister. “This is definitely just an apology. And I quote—” she pulls out her phone and reads from the screen, “—I really messed up big time. Will you please take Allie and get her some boots that she can wear around the ranch? And she’ll need something for the dance too. Please?’” She shrugs and tucks her phone into her back pocket before crouching down and pulling a box out of the pile. “These are a good fit for being on the ranch. They’re not super dull, but they’re not too pretty that you’ll be afraid to get them dirty.”
She opens the box to a pair of russet brown, square toed boots with a red stitching up the sides of the shaft. She’s right, they look like the perfect boots to go out and about on the ranch or even to a cattle auction in. Too bad I didn’t have them this morning. Lucy picks one of the boots up and starts pulling the stuffing out of the toe before handing it to me.
I try it on and am completely surprised by the comfortability of a cowboy—girl boot. Pulling my jeans over the sides and moving over to a mirror, I find that they don’t look too bad either. Lucy leans back and grins, overly pleased with herself.
“I really shouldn’t.”
“Oh, you really should.” Lucy shares an excited grin with her sister. “Just wait ‘til you see what else I’ve found for you.”
I really shouldn’t be intrigued, but I totally find myself galloping over to peek into the boxes that Lucy splays across the floor. She’s found several fancy looking designs in various colors that look like they need to be in some sort of country-chic boutique. I immediate veto a red design, not feeling the color. A pair of pink boots catch my eye and I pick one up to check out the design of the brown leather sewn over the pink suede, but when I see Emma’s nose curl up in distaste out of the corner of my eye, I put it back, finding myself feel the same way. Bubble gum pink is not my favorite. I turn my attention back to the other boots awaiting my critique and Lucy pulls the pink ones from the line up, scampering off to put them back. I pick up another pair of cognac boots with brightly colored flowers embroidered into the soft leather, but they don’t call to me, so I put them back down and turn to fully inspect the turquoise ones. The white scroll design makes a great contrast to the bright leather.
“What do people wear to these types of dances? Please don’t tell me the frilly circle dresses with the paisley-handkerchief designs.”
Emma snickers and shakes her head. “Oh no. Some wear jeans and matching dress shirts, but then there are those of us who prefer dresses.” She hops up and shuffles off to a clothing section, leaving me to my thoughts and a bunch of boots I never in a million years thought I’d ever wear.
What am I doing? I shouldn’t be accepting gifts like this from a subject. And I can’t go to this dance, let alone with Logan. I may have made light of my musings that our dinner and film-watching was a perfect date, but sitting here, surrounded by designer cowgirl boots, I get the impression is that this is a real date. With Logan. Logan Lassiter, the hottest wide-receiver in the league, both in a playing sense and in the physical. If Mac were to get wind that I was going to this dance with him, in the manner that will be perceived by the entire community, I’m sure I’d get pulled from this assignment faster than Logan can change his mood. That thought spikes my anxiety even further; I don’t want to leave. Something about being here, with Logan and his incredible family, stirs emotions in me that I’m not entirely familiar with.
Yes, Logan infuriates me and makes me want to pull my hair out, strand by strand. But his mother’s words come back to me in this moment.
“Be patient with him, Allie.”
I replace the boots back to the floor in front of me and lay my head in my hands, trying to steady my thoughts by focusing on my breathing. I don’t get very far because at the same time Emma returns with a set of dresses hanging from each hand, Lucy’s excited squeals pierce through the air, obscuring the twangs of country music over the sound system.
“These are it!” She comes rushing back to where I’m sitting in the middle of the floor, still wearing the brown boots. “Oh, these are perfect. And we already know that Logan can rock the plum.” She skids to a stop in front of me and holds the box at my eye level. Lifting the lid slowly, I can hear her doing a poor job of containing her excitement.
At first, my immediate thought is she has to be kidding me, but when I actually pick up the dark purple boots and inspect the floral-paisley design, I start to fall in love. The design on the shaft of the boot has a simple, embroidered white flower with a vine/scroll design that wraps to the sides. The top of the boot has a cut out design to it, with a super soft white underneath. The design is beautiful and feminine.
“Well?” Lucy looks at me expectantly.
“These are gorgeous.”
“And they would go fabulously with this.” Emma shakes a hanger out in front of her. The dress would go perfectly with the boots; an ivory colored, high necked, princess cut sleeveless dress with a subtle, pretty purple floral print swaying in the air between us. The cut looks like it might be a bit on the short side for my long legs, but when Lucy screeches in excitement, jostling the box I’m still holding onto, I know that there might be mutiny if I don’t at least try the outfit on.
“Come on.”
Lucy grabs my elbow and tries to pull me up. Standing, she shoos me to the dressing room and shoves both the dress and the boots in my arm before pushing me into a room and closing the door in my face. I stare down at the outfit in my arms and shake my head, knowing that as much as I shouldn’t, I’m going to this dance with Logan.
“Lucy, give her a chance to actually get dressed, will ya?” Emma’s chide makes me smile as I shimmy out of my jeans and reach for the boots.
“Oh, chill. I’m getting some divine inspiration right now. I don’t show up at your events and tell you to slow your roll, do I?”
I always wondered what it would be like to have a sister, and when I open the door of the dressing room to find them scowling at each other, I find out pretty fast. They both turn to me with wide eyes, simultaneously grinning matching cheshire cat grins.
“Don’t. Move.” Lucy holds up a finger and sprints off. Emma’s approving eyes roam up and down me a couple of times before meeting my own.
“Oh, my brother’s going to love us.”
I turn to inspect the look in the mirror behind me and find that I might actually pull off this country-chic look. Lucy comes plowing through the aisles with her arms full of accessories. She holds up a couple different belts, tossing those she isn’t feeling to her sister, before holding up two different pairs of chandelier earrings. Her mouth twists in disapproval and next thing I know, she pushes a cropped jean jacket at me and tells me to put it on. I quickly do as she says, not wanting to upset the little spitfire. She spins me around to face the mirror and starts twisting my hair into different styles. She purses her lips, twisting them from side to side before dropping my hair and stepping back.
“Okay, I think I know what I want to do. You can change now.” She spins on her heel and takes all the items she handed to her sister, leaving me totally to myself. Emma chuckles when I stand there, speechless and watching Lucy saunter off to put everything away.
“She can be a little overwhelming, but she’s really good at what she does.” She gestures for me to return to the dressing room and change.
I do so quickly, handing both pairs of boots to Emma when I step out of the tiny room. She smiles and turns to find Lucy, who is bustling about with about five different men’s dress shirts in her arms. She starts holding each shirt up to the dress now in my hands and each time she compares a shirt to the dress, she contorts her face in a way that makes me laugh. The sound of my voice pulls her out of her daze and she glares at me.
“What’s so funny?”
“Um, nothing.” Emma matches my amusement as she boxes the boots back up and starts organizing the scattered accessories.
“Ok, I think I’m ready.” Lucy holds up one last shirt, a black and plum plaid shirt with white stitching and smiles satisfactorily.
“Team colors?” Emma asks skeptically.
Lucy shrugs. “Not exactly.”
“Do you think he’ll care?” I ask, noticing the look of concern on Emma’s face.
“Not if he knows what’s good for him.” Lucy sets her jaw, a mirror image of her big brother and scoops up all the items, marching off to check out.
“Lucy, I’ll take care of my—”
“Nope. Let Logan do this for you. It’s the least he can do for all the crap he puts you through.” Emma pops Lucy upside the back of her head for her language, reminding me of the sisterly bond I was just thinking about. I watch as Lucy takes Logan’s card and checks out. She flirts a little with the kid behind the counter and he manages to locate a 10 percent off coupon just for her. I wonder if Logan knows his stylist uses her womanly wiles to get him deals on all his purchases. The thought makes me chuckle to myself. Both girls turn to see what I’m giggling about and I turn away to look out at the parking lot and realize that a particularly large black truck is missing.
“Where’s Logan?” I blurt.
“What do you mean?” Emma asks, coming up just behind me to look as well. “Where did he go?”
I check my watch, noticing we’ve been at this for well over the warned hour. “Anyone know which Mexican restaurant he might have gone to?”
***
Logan’s land yacht is parked front and center at Maria’s Mexican Cocina, reminding all three of us girls that he was in no way kidding about leaving us for food. I wish I could say I could blame him. I was starving over an hour ago. Then I was forced to go shopping for a date with the subject of my most recent assignment. When the anger of how he asked me out subsided, the butterflies started doing so many laps I felt my stomach starting to bottom out. Now as a waitress zooms past us with a plate full of sizzling fajitas, the sides of my stomach clench so hard that I feel like if I try to put a single chip with salsa in it, I’ll just choke on it.
Lucy stretches as tall as she can, just barely peering over the partial walls that separate the dining room from the waiting area. A sly smile spreads across her face when she spots her brother, then she grabs my hand and all but drags me to his table.
“You have the patience of a toddler.” She sticks her butt in the booth beside him and shoves him over. I slide into the opposite side, doing my best to decide if I have it in me to actually look him in the eyes. I don’t have to decide because he doesn’t even look up to smile at his youngest sister.
“You guys were taking forever. I warned you I was only waiting an hour.”
Emma harrumphes as she slides in next to me. “Yeah, but a gentleman would wait for his date.”
I glare wide-eyed at Emma and feel the heat on my cheeks. And then I feel Logan’s intense gaze. I can’t avoid it anymore, I look at him. And immediately wish I hadn’t.
That lazy smirk of his is going to drive this girl to drink.
“I’m sorry I left you.”
“It’s…um, it’s quite alright.”
A cute hispanic kid with shiny white teeth and an accent that would make any girl swoon sways up to our table and lays it on thick for Lucy and Emma as he asks for their drink order. When he turns his million dollar smile my way, I’m still having a hard time pulling my eyes away from the person across the table.
“No way! You’re Allie Mooreland!” The kid flips out and I can only imagine his reaction to Logan.
“I am. What’s your name?”
The kid quickly switches his pen to the hand with his order pad and sticks his now empty hand out for me. “Carlos.” I swear that smile dings at me.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Carlos. That’s a great smile you’ve got there.” Somehow it grows.
“Thank you. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, tambien. What can I get you to drink?”
“A sweet tea, if you have it, please.”
He nods, his smile still plastered across his face as he spins on his heel and quickly leaves. Logan doesn’t take his eyes off the exuberant kid until he disappears into the kitchen.
Emma and Lucy giggle over the cute waiter for a second while Logan scoots the chip basket more my way. He picks up a plastic bottle of salsa and pours some into a small bowl for me. “So, did you find something to wear to the dance?”
I don’t have to answer. Lucy takes over the conversation, telling him all about our shopping experience. “And you’re never going to guess what color Allie picked out for you two.” She smirks as she takes a bite of her chip. Carlos comes back and hands out our drinks and takes our order before promising a bowl of queso —on the house—to be right out.
“Pink?” Logan asks as he stares down the poor kid again.
“Huh?” Lucy looks at him like he started playing some I Spy game without telling anyone.
“You asked me if I could guess what color Allie picked and I guess pink.” He gives me a small knowing smile as Carlos returns with the promised appetizer.
“Nope, but you’re close. And we all know that you look fantastic in this color.” Lucy giggles. Emma mirrors her brother’s knowing smile, pressing her lips together to suppress her own laughter. Logan’s eyebrows twist in confusion.
“
She found these—well, really I found them, but she loved them. They’re so cute and then Emma just so happened to locate the best dress to go with them. It all came together like it was fate or somethi—”
“Lucy.” Logan demonstrates his lack of patience once again.
“Oh, sorry.” She grins almost nefariously and claps her hands in front of her while she bounces in her seat. “Purple!”
Logan doesn’t look nearly as enthusiastic about my color choice as his sister does. Emma nearly spits chips and queso across the table thanks to his reaction.
“I can take them back. It’s not a—”
“No. Purple’s fine,” he says gently. He narrows his eyes at his sister stylist. “Please tell me you picked something that I’ll actually like this year.”
She gives him an innocent smile. “Of course I did.” She pulls a bag I didn’t see her carry in out from under the table. She pulls both my dress and his shirt out, holding them both to the light and he nods appreciatively before turning to me.
“And you like it?”
“I do.”
“Then I like it too.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Ouch,” Owen, in his infinite patience, mumbles for probably the twentieth time. He didn’t seem to mind that he was recruited to help teach me how to dance for this soirée, but after a couple hours of my two left feet getting in the way and stomping all over his, I think he’s ready to be benched.
“Sorry.” I let my grip on him go and step back to run a frustrated hand over my face. “Let’s go back to that line dance we tried earlier. The Cantaloupe Creep?”
Emma sighs tiredly. “The Watermelon Crawl. And you only want to do that because you finally got it. You need to learn this.”
Logan miraculously appears in the kitchen. I didn’t hear him come in. And I might have been keeping an ear out for him. Maybe.
“Do I want to know what you’re doing?” he asks as he crosses his arms and leans against the opening between his kitchen and living room, a concerned look on his chiseled face.