by Avery Duncan
“Claire. Stop. You aren’t staying at a hotel. Think about it, Gerry’s is right in front of the other one.”
She worried her lip, contemplating.
“And you are not taking up space by being here,” he said roughly, finally turning to look at her. His eyes were still dark, hooded, flooded with desire, but he made no move towards her.
She didn’t know whether to be flattered or even more ashamed of what they had done.
Her father had raised her differently than to…to copulate with a man. And even though they hadn’t made it to the final stage, she was damn sure that if he hadn’t pulled back, she wouldn’t have made him.
Her cheeks flushed darkly.
Logan stared at her – she could feel it. Looking away, she stood up slowly, as if her bones ached. It wasn’t her bones, but her body. She was heavy with desire for him – it was like a weight pressing on her shoulders.
“I’ll find where your suitcase went. You can look around if you want, even go out to the stables. Just stay out of the guys’ way.”
He didn’t spare her another glance before leaving her in the room, alone.
---------------------------------------------
He found her suitcase near the back of the house. Frank had probably forgotten what to do with it and had set it there. He picked it up and brought it to her room, grateful when she wasn’t there.
It was hard enough to be in the same house without jumping her, he thought grimly.
Maybe going to lunch wasn’t that good of an idea. Two times. He had tasted her two times today, and his body was begging for more. He began making their lunch, packing it in a picnic basket and thinking of the last time he had done this.
His mother. She’d loved lunches outside, in the fields, with the horses grazing around them. When all of his brothers had lived together, when they were all younger, she’d taken them out almost every day. Playing ball with them, teaching them how to ride, giving them some of the best lunches they’d ever had…
An ach settled in his chest as he packed another sandwich. It’s been years since she’d had a lunch with them, years since he’d heard her laugh. She’d died of cancer when he was just seventeen, and with their father AWOL he’d been left to raise his brothers. The second they’d gone off to college, he was on his way to the military and had ended up being recruited as a marines.
He hadn’t expected to be in the service as long as he had been. At first, going into the forces had been a way to pay for his college. But later, four years into it and on his last deployment, he’d realized he didn’t want to leave. His brothers were safe and taking care of the ranch. His other brothers, the men he’d grown into a man with, relied on him.
It had been through them that he’d started his own team with a grant from the general and the president. For years, up until he was thirty, he had made his life his job. Every breath was taken in silence. Every step was taken invisibly. Every shot and every stab was meticulous. His heartbeat was the same as his brothers – calm in the face of danger yet racing with adrenaline and the urge to carry out with the job.
They’d done projects together, protected together, killed together, almost died together. It was impossible to leave them so soon. Only when the grant ended and they weren’t needed did he decide to finally have a life on his ranch.
At thirty one, he’d met Christina. His brothers had pushed them together and he hadn’t put up a fight, knowing he’d gotten to that age where he needed to think about his ranch more than himself. And marrying Christina had been a good bet, up until he’d found out how greedy and manipulative she was.
Chase had confessed to her trying to seduce him. He hadn’t given in, but he hadn’t wanted to ruin Logan’s already rocky marriage by mentioning it to his brother. So he’d stayed silent – and when he’d found out, he hadn’t even been mad at his brother.
He could have killed Christina, though.
When they’d first met, she’d been nice and beautiful. Seemingly kind at heart. Yet Logan had known there was something wrong with her. The way her eyes would glaze over whenever she saw a piece of jewelry she wanted, the way she would beg and beg till she could have it. The way she always went shopping at the most expensive places, even when money was tight.
And, he’d noticed the first time they went out to dinner on their wedding night, the way she eyed other men – not caring that her new husband knew exactly what she was thinking. She wouldn’t let him touch her, so sex had been nonexistent.
Logan hadn’t cared. While he had thought to have heirs and provide for his family with his ranch, he hadn’t had any thoughts of it when he’d realized they had no desire to fuck a selfish whore.
Months of fighting, of her trying to lay her hands on everything he owned, and he’d finally come to his last inch on the rope of why he hated his wife so much. He’d come home early from a trip to Huston, Texas, a cattle rancher event where they auctioned off prized bulls, and he’d known the second that he’d pulled up in his driveway that something was wrong.
There had been a truck there, one that he’d never seen. Frank had been walking out of the house, his head low, shoulders stouped. When he’d seen Logan, he’d frozen. Then, slowly, looked away. As if he couldn’t bear to see him.
She’d been in his bed.
With a different man.
Moaning and screaming and whimpering like a motherfucking whore.
Which she was.
Within the next two minutes, there’d been a fight, she’d been thrown out, and Logan had gotten the cops called on him for punching the guy she’d been with in the nose, hard enough to break it. He might have also broken some arms and a couple of ribs.
He hadn’t noticed.
Logan grabbed containers from under the counter just as Claire was walking down the staires, arms crossed over her chest.
He looked up and…stared. Her hair was down her shoulders, blonde locks curling softly around her face and cascading down her back like a silky waterfall. Her eyes were bright, thick lashes surrounding them and her lips… She had on some sort of peach-colored lip-gloss and he wanted nothing more than to kiss it off.
His eyes fell down her body.
She had on a pair of leg-hugging jeans and her shirt was bright in the front. She had on a thin scarf, draped loosely around her shoulders, and she had on a short pair of comfort boots.
God, she looked beautiful.
Clearing his throat, he set the containers on the counter and went to the refrigerator, grabbing out a carton of Koolaid and lemonade. “Almost ready to head out…I would suggest some tennis shoes though. Do you like Koolaid or lemonade?”
He was really trying not to stare at her, but it was hard. She had such a sweet face, such full lips. When she smiled at him, bright white teeth flashed and she told him, “The Koolaid. Do you have any sugar?”
Logan pointed to where it was and she went over to it, picking it up. “Let me see that,” she said, grabbing the container from him. She looked around the kitchen with the thing still in her hands, till she found a cup. She tested the Koolaid and then gave him a chiding look. “There isn’t any sugar in this.”
“Well, there isn’t –“
He stopped talking, watching her as she poured almost every grain of sugar into the container. “Okay. Nevermind.”
“What?” she asked innocently, putting both the sugar and the now highly-caffinated Koolaid down.
“All I can say is that I’ll be drinking the lemonade.” He tried not to laugh at her insulted expression.
“Fine then,” she huffed. “I’ll be drinking the Koolaid then.”
“Well obviously…”
Claire glared at him.
“Go get some tennis shoes on. I’ll be out in the barn when you’re ready to go.”
“Okay!” He waited till she had ran up the stairs to leave the kitchen, the picnic basket in his hand and the drinks in the other. Frank was there, of course, and he asked his man to help him saddle up the m
are while he got his own mount ready.
Logan, deciding that Claire would be a while, moved ahead of time and galloped to the spot where he would have them sit, hiding the picnic basket under some blankets near a tree. The grass was tall, almost to his knees, and the sun was shining, casting glowing rays around him.
It was perfect for him. For Claire. Even though his body was still raging from their encounter.
Getting up on his mount again, he rode back to the stables, finding Claire still absent. He frowned.
“Has Claire come out?” he asked Frank, who was leading the mare out of the stables and tying her lead to a post.
“Not that I seen, no. But – Oh I think that’s her right there,” Frank said, the gruff in his voice natural from old age.
Logan turned around and saw her. God, would she never stop taking his breath away? The bright rays from the sun caught in her hair, making it frame an almost golden halo around her face.
Her face lit up the second she saw the horses. Squealing, almost running to him, she looked between the two men and the two horses. “Which one do I get to ride,” she demanded, wide eyed.
“None,” he teased. “You get to hang on by the tail and run.”
Claire waved a hand. “I’ll probably end up doing that anyways. Seriously, which one!”
Logan smiled. Her smile was bright and wide and there weren’t any shadows in her eyes. He wanted to make her look like that all of the time, he thought, patting the butt of the mare. “This one is yours. Her name is Berry. Have you ever ridden before?” he asked, needing to know. He didn’t want her to ride alone if she was a first time rider...she would have to ride with him, he thought, not knowing if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“Oh yes, I have,” she said, excitedly looking at Berry. The horse neighed lightly, shuffling it’s feet. Her head butted against Claire’s shoulder, and she laughed, flattered.
She turned her whole attention to the horse, cupping the strong jaw and petting, cooing. “You’re such a pretty girl...yes, you are....” She happily pushed aside the fringe that hung over the horses face and looked over her shoulder at Logan, grinning.
“Can we go now?”
He nodded dumbly, entranced by the site she made.
As she climbed onto the horse like an expert, he saw that Frank had noticed as well.
He swallowed roughly and mounted his horse. Frank made him lean down and he said quietly, “She’s a keeper. Not at all like Christina.”
Logan, with a heavy feeling in his chest, muttered, “Even though she isn’t, doesn’t mean we can keep her. She’s only going to be here for a month or so.”
Frank patted his calf, nodding. “That’s enough time to convince her to stay.”
He let out a low breath, looking at Claire as she managed the horse like she had been born on it. She was several feet away from him, out of hearing distance. “Even if I wanted her to stay, she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.”
“We’ll see.” Frank smiled knowingly.
Logan left him standing there and went to Claire. “Ready?”
“More than ever!” she gushed, eyes smiling as much as her lips were. He forced himself to look away and rode ahead of her, leading the way.
Before he knew it, though, Claire was galloping in front of him, her laugh ringing in the wind, calling to him. Her hair flew out behind her, caressing the wind. Her body was lithe and she almost looked like she was one with Berry.
Right then, Logan knew without a doubt, that he had to know everything about her. He wanted to know what it took to make her smile, make her laugh, make her cry, make her...
Love.
He wanted to know what it took to make her love.
He might not ever be able to offer her anything but a bed and a ranch, but he had to know. Needed to know. Logan didn’t care that he’d only known her for a week. He didn’t care that being with her seemed impossible yet so easy. He didn’t care that even though everything in him shouted against it because of what she was, he had to have her in his bed, wrapped around him, naked, gasping his name and begging for more.
Groaning roughly, Logan followed after her. Only when Berry began to look tired did he stop Claire and make her follow him to their picnic spot.
“That was amazing!” she exclaimed, hopping off of Berry. He saw her wobble and was immediately there to hold her up. She smiled sheepishly, pulling away from his grasp. “I’m fine, don’t worry. Just a little strung.”
What I would do to relax you... His body hardened and he realized that it was going to be a very long day.
Chapter 6
Claire watched as Logan walked away from her stiffly, and went about putting down the blanket that he had pulled out from behind the tree that was in the center of the small clearing. She took care of the horses for him, pulling them to the other side of the tree and tieing their lead to a low-hanging branch. Luckily, there was a small thing of water just a couple of feet away.
She took Berry’s lead off and untied it so that it was just one string of rope and, tied to the horse, long enough for them to still be tethered and still able to reach the thing of water. She did the same to Logan’s horse and then patted them down. She had her own stables on her father’s estate and she knew all about horses and how to take care of them -- she didn’t think Logan knew she did though.
Wiping her hands off and giving them each a scratch on their forehead, she turned around --
And came up against a wall.
A chest wall. A wall of a chest.A hot wall of a chest. Eyes going wide, she looked up slowly and met the blazing eyes of Logan.
“Ah...” she backed away, or tried to. Berry was in her way and the horse didn’t seem like moving. At all.
“What were you doing?” he asked, the light that had started to enter his eyes gone now.
“I…was tending to the horses…”
He gave her a hard look and then strode past her, first going to his black mount and then to Berry. He took the time to pat them down and check their leads, making sure they were all tied correctly.
By the time he turned to look at her, she was fuming.
“Are you content with my ‘work’?” she spat, hands clenching at her side. He acted as if she had had no idea what she was doing and he found her stupid for even trying.
His brows shot up. “What are you talking about?”
“Wow. Nothing.” She turned on her heel and walked to the blanket, sitting down and leaning across the tree with her legs crossed at the ankles and her arms over her chest. When he came back and lowered himself in front of her, she refused to look at him. Yes, she wanted him to know she was mad. No, she didn’t want to look at him and then stop being mad. And she knew it would happen – it happened with everyone. She had never been able to stay angry at someone, as much as she tried. Her father had always believed in forgiveness and being better than whoever had pissed you off. Her aunt, on the other hand, had tried to make her hold onto that anger so she wouldn’t be so foolish to trust that person again.
Of course, her father’s method had stuck with her. With pressed lips, she waited as he waited for her to look at him.
“Claire,” he said. She couldn’t tell what he was feeling through his voice, but she did know she liked the sound of her name on his lips.
That enraged her.
“What.”
Stupid men. Even the ones her father knew thought that women could do nothing for themselves. If women tried to do something besides hosting parties, everything they did needed to be double checked. Feeling her cheeks flush with anger, she met his eyes despite herself.
A mistake.
His eyes were grey and smoking, searing her. The anger slowly dissipated and she thought, Wow I hate myself sometimes...
“Claire,” he said again, voice softer.
“What.” The pout. That damn pout in her voice.
“I just have to make sure the horses were okay. Not because I don’t trust your judgment, but I have to make
sure for myself. Berry was my mother’s last bred foul before she died. And Bobo...I’ve had him for years. It wasn’t because I don’t trust you, I just worry about the horses.”
Yup. The anger was gone.
“Your mother, she died?” she asked softly, arms loosening over her chest. She couldn’t stay mad at the sadness that entered his eyes.
“Of cancer, yes. I was seventeen and my dad wasn’t around.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, looking down. “My mother got into a car accident when I was five. My aunt and my father raised me.”
She looked up and met his eyes briefly, found him looking at her with a deep, unrecognizable look. She took a breath. “I’m hungry, what about you?” It was easier to change the conversation than suffer the silence, she thought.
He stared at her for a moment, a look entering his eyes that she didn’t recognize, and then nodded. “I’m starving.” He began pulling out the sandwiches, putting them on the spread out blanket. Then there were two tubs of salads, three different kinds of bags of chips, a jar of something red, and biscuits placed inside a plastic container. And then, right when she thought he would be done, he pulled out two giant slices of cake and set them to the side.
He looked at her as if in approval, and she grinned. “What kind is it?”
“Carrot cake, the only kind that Glenda makes for me.” He chuckled.
A weird sensation ran through her. “Glenda?” she asked, trying to keep her appetite. The tenderness in his voice was something she’d never heard from him before. Was it his girlfriend? Oh god, they’d kissed -- her face paled dramatically.
“My housekeeper -- what’s wrong,” he demanded. She cleared her throat, shaking her head. So she hadn’t turned into a homewrecker, thank God.
“Nothing, heat got to me for a second,” she fibbed. “So, which piece is mine?”
“Hey now, dessert is for after the meal.”
“But I’m not hungry for sandwiches... I want cake.”
“Well, that’s too bad. Food first, then cake,” he chuckled, handing her the sandwich. She lifted the upper piece of bread and looked at him skeptically.