by Leigh Riker
“I knew one day he might really hurt me and my...” She trailed off. “Anyway, Ken called Tammy to see if I was with her. He’s good at bullying people. He even boasts about it. In his business, no one dares to say no to him, that kind of thing...” Blossom breathed deeply. “I took the battery out of my cell phone, smashed it.”
“No trail,” he said.
“I hope not.”
Logan got out of the desk chair. He crossed the room to her. He wanted to take Blossom in his arms and hold her close, his body feeling cold inside with anger for Ken but his hands warm as he cupped her face. In that moment he wanted to kiss her, to tell her everything would be all right. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He only reached out to smooth her hair, then stepped back so as not to touch her.
He was in no position to pursue a relationship. He had to keep telling himself that or he might risk everything for this vulnerable woman on the run. He still had Libby to deal with.
Yet in that awkward, almost-moment, Blossom had a big part of his heart.
Ken had better not show up at the Circle H.
* * *
LOGAN HAD NEVER been inside his ex-wife’s house on Liberty Street. Several blocks from the main drag in Barren, it stood square and squat, a one-story cottage that reminded him of a sentinel standing guard. The front door was painted a shiny black.
Maybe there was an explosion of bright color inside, but he doubted that.
There was no bell to ring. Logan rapped on the door.
A small sign beside it announced that solicitors were unwelcome.
But then, so was he.
Libby peeked around the filmy curtains covering the sidelights.
With a frown, she opened the door a crack.
“Yes?” she said in a cold tone, as if he were a peddler hoping to sell her something, not the man she’d married. “What is it?”
“You want to discuss this outside for the neighbors to hear—or let me in?”
“I have nothing to discuss.”
Dead wrong. It had taken his outing with Nicky to show him how mistaken he’d been. In pulling back to keep the peace with Libby, he’d only confused Nicky. This was his first opportunity to give notice to her. From now on, after Blossom had told him about Ken last night, things were going to be different.
Logan took a breath then shouldered the door open into a small entryway, where the aroma of dinner, barbecued chicken—one of her specialties—still hung in the air. Libby stepped back. Surely, she didn’t think he’d hurt her, but that look reminded him of the way Blossom’s glance always slid away from any confrontation or criticism. Made him think of the things she’d told him.
“Keep your voice down,” Libby said, although he hadn’t raised it.
“Where’s Nicky?”
“In bed. It’s after nine, Logan. I wasn’t counting on a visitor tonight. If you wanted to see him, you should have called.”
So she could say no? The word visitor set his teeth on edge. In any normal relationship, he would be welcome here. He supposed their divorce had changed that, too. Of course it had. He’d heard Grey speak often enough of the wrangles he and Libby had endured as kids with their parents. Their acrimonious split-up had affected Grey even more than he liked to let on—and Libby, too. Which reminded Logan why he was here.
“It’s not to visit Nicky. I’m here to see you.”
He glanced around the small entryway. Beige walls. Cream woodwork. No pictures, not even a photo of Nicky on the little table that held a single basket, presumably for mail.
“Nice place,” he said.
“It’s too small. The bigger Nick gets, the smaller it will seem.”
She didn’t ask him into the living room, but he could see it from here, off to the right through a wide archway. More tan and white. Even the furniture—he recognized the sofa they’d bought together—was neutral. The only color he saw was the bright red of a small fire truck Nicky must have left on the floor before he went to bed. Did she have some plan to leave Barren? Was that why everything was so pared down, even minimalistic?
“Guess you’re keeping your options open.”
“I am.” She folded her arms. “I can guess what this is about.”
Logan abandoned any pretense of small talk. Any attempt to be tactful in getting his message across went out the window.
“You have anything to tell me, Libby, say it. Don’t ever send Grey to do your dirty work again.”
“I could hardly lift that huge truck into the trunk of my car.”
“Then you should have called me. We might have ‘discussed’ the options.”
“The only option is to return it. To the store.” Her eyes flashed with the temper she usually kept under tight control. “How dare you. You used my little boy! Of course he wanted that truck. That’s bribery, Logan.”
He stepped back as if she’d pushed him. “Huh. Never thought of it that way.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
“I was only trying to show him a good time.”
“Which means spending money I can’t afford to spend?”
“So that’s it. You’re not mad about the truck.”
Her mouth tightened another notch. “I will not get into a competition with you for his love.”
“Neither will I. I could never buy his love—even if I wanted to—for any amount of money.”
“Then what is it?”
“Has it ever occurred to you that our divorce has confused Nicky? Saddened him? Made him wonder about my role in his life now? I didn’t see that until Grey brought him over. And you should have seen us at breakfast after you dropped Nicky off. Trying to talk to him was like pulling teeth.” Logan held her gaze. “I’ve lost touch with him, Libby. You have no call to keep me from seeing him.”
“Don’t be paranoid. Why would you think that? It’s rarely convenient for me to drive Nick to Wichita.” She frowned. “I have a shop to run, places to be. My work involves a lot of travel to nearby towns and counties. Assessing the contents of people’s attics and basements and overstuffed garages takes time. I can’t drop everything whenever you decide you want to see him.”
“I’ve offered to come here. Pick him up. You always have some excuse.”
She didn’t deny that. “I’m a single mother now. In part, that’s because of you. So tell me. How do I juggle my demanding job and Nick and running this house—tiny as it is—around your latest whim?”
In a flash, every hostile meeting he’d had with Libby in their lawyers’ offices raced through his mind again. For a long moment he stared at the wooden floor and the rag rug at his feet.
“I’m not in Wichita now,” he said at last. “While I’m here, don’t even think of denying me my son again. If I want to see Nicky, I will.”
“Really? And how long will you be here? The rest of this week? A month?”
“Until Sam’s on his feet again.”
“I spent Nick’s first three years waiting around for you. Either you were somewhere on that big ranch all day or in the barn half the night or you were off to some interview hoping to work as a pilot instead.”
“I can’t argue with that but—”
“I’m not waiting anymore. I don’t have to now.”
Logan shook his head. “Then that’s your decision. I told Grey I wouldn’t have any luck changing your mind about me.” He paused. “Tell you what. You do what you have to. I’ll just point out—I’ve missed too many ‘visits’ with Nicky in the past three years. I want to be a better father to him, repair our relationship while I’m taking care of Sam. You say no the next time, I may have to call my lawyer. Could be there’s even some provision in our agreement that says I have retroactive rights. Makeup time. Nicky could end up staying with me for months.”
“You
wouldn’t.”
“If I have to, yeah. I will.”
Libby bumped his shoulder with the heel of her hand, nudging Logan off guard and out of the way. She flung open the door. It banged back against the wall, but she didn’t seem to notice the noise it made that might waken Nicky. Her voice trembled. “Good night, Logan. Thanks for stopping by.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BLOSSOM SHADED HER eyes against the morning sun. In the distance dust rose, billowing over the long driveway from the gate, and for a second her body tensed. Sharing her story with Logan the other night had been a relief, but at the same time it had brought back reminders of Ken.
The closer this car came, though, the more she began to relax.
Shadow Moran had called earlier looking for Logan, and Blossom had taken the opportunity to ask a favor.
Her classic red Mustang, which Blossom had seen parked in front of the agency in town, stopped at the front porch steps. Shadow climbed out of the car, all graceful limbs as she uncoiled from the driver’s seat. With her sleek, almost thin build and her height, she could have been a top fashion model. She wore a pair of new-looking jeans that fit her like the proverbial glove and a Western-style top in a red-and-rust pattern.
“Hey,” she said, extending a hand. “You surprised me when I called. You’re still here. A few days ago I thought I’d seen the last of you.” She glanced toward the near pasture before her eyes tracked a route, as if by instinct, that led to the crossroads. “I brought what you asked for on the phone.” She held out a bag with the pet-store logo.
“Thanks.” Blossom looked inside. “These will be perfect.”
Shadow wasn’t listening. When she didn’t respond, Blossom saw that her gaze had fixed on the bare land between the Circle H and the Wilson Cattle Company.
“I don’t often come this far from town.” Her admission came with a rueful smile. “Not that Barren is especially urban, but I don’t care for horses and cattle. I grew up dirt-poor on a scrap of farm one fraction of this ranch’s size.” She frowned. “Or the one next door. Every time I leave the town limits, I start to twitch. I can’t wait to get back. Talk about lonely out here.”
“I know what you mean.” Blossom hadn’t been raised on a farm, but there were all sorts of confinement, all kinds of poverty and isolation. Even in Ken’s condo, or maybe especially there. After her talk with Logan, and the confession she’d made, every detail of those nine years seemed as clear as yesterday.
Shadow groaned. “Don’t get me started on chickens. You’re from back East, if I remember right from your application?”
“Yes. But I’ve lived everywhere, really.”
Shadow’s eyes brightened. “Tell me.”
Blossom mentioned a few exotic places. “You’ve never left Kansas?”
“Only to spend some time in KC on the Missouri side. Then I came back for my father’s funeral. I ended up staying to start the agency.”
She was looking at the crossroads now. Or, no. Shadow was staring hard enough to make out the gates at Grey Wilson’s ranch.
She shook her head as if to clear it of some troublesome memory. “Anyway.” She half turned, surveying the barnyard. “I’ll head back now, since Logan doesn’t appear to be home yet. I’ll catch him later.”
“Do you have a few minutes? He rode out to inspect fences. Not far, though. He should be here soon. I just made a fresh pot of coffee. And there’s apple pie from dinner last night. While you wait, I’d welcome your company.”
Shadow glanced around then nodded. “All right, I’ll take that coffee—and the pie. I do need to tell him something.”
“If he doesn’t get here before you have to leave, I can give him a message.”
“It’s personal,” Shadow said.
Did she have an interest in Logan? Shadow didn’t care for country life, but on the other hand Logan didn’t intend to stay here. Wichita wasn’t New York, but the smaller city might appeal more to Shadow than Barren. And Logan was an attractive man.
Blossom wouldn’t let herself care about that. Even after he’d almost taken her in his arms—she’d been sure of that by the look in his eyes—Ken was still too much of a threat. She had the baby to worry about, and Logan had his own issues with Nick. He and Shadow would be a better match.
In the kitchen Shadow took her first bite of apple pie then moaned.
“Oh, this is good.”
“I bought it frozen,” Blossom admitted, “but don’t tell Logan.”
“You don’t like to cook?”
“I don’t know how to cook for him. And I don’t dare serve curry again—even though everyone else liked it.” Blossom toyed with her pie. She’d made an herbal tea for herself, but her stomach still felt queasy this morning, though she didn’t normally feel nauseated. Lucky for her. With Sam and Logan in the house, it would be hard to hide morning sickness.
Shadow leaned back in her chair. “Let me see. You wanted cash for last week’s pay. You don’t cook what I might call cowboy style. Which tells me you weren’t qualified as an in-home caregiver for the Circle H when you accepted the position.”
Blossom had been tempted to use a fake name on her application but she hadn’t. Lying about her experience was as far as she would go, and she’d only planned to stay a week. “I had an abusive relationship. I left. Logan knows that now—and in spite of my lack of credentials, he’s been more than generous in letting me stay.”
“No one’s likely to find you here,” Shadow pointed out.
“Maybe not, but feeling safe isn’t something I’m familiar with.” She hesitated. “I’m learning—a little—to trust my better instincts, but I’m not there yet. All I can do is try to become a better cook so Logan doesn’t choke on his food while I’m here.”
“Where will you go after this?”
“I don’t know.” She wouldn’t tell Shadow, or Logan, even if she did.
Shadow finished her pie. She pushed her coffee mug aside.
“Well. I wish you luck. Logan has an edge sometimes, but he’s mostly bark and no bite. And he’s not alone. Men can be...men.”
They shared a woman-to-woman smile but Shadow said no more.
She glanced in the direction of the Wilson Cattle Company again. Then she stood and walked to the back door to stare toward the barn. “I think I heard Logan and the guys ride in. I’ll go talk to him now.”
Someone—Grey Wilson was Blossom’s guess—had broken Shadow’s heart.
* * *
“SHE’S A MESS, LOGAN.”
“Yeah. I know.” Standing in the barn aisle, he told her about Ken in a few choice words then jerked a thumb toward the ranch house. “We had a talk. That guy sure won’t hurt her while I’m around.”
Shadow assessed him. “What do I see here? No more bitterness over Libby? A definite liking for Blossom? Good for you.”
“She works for me. As long as she’s here, she’s under my protection.” He looked away. “That’s it.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because, ever since you and Grey split up, every guy has been suspect in some way.”
“With good reason.” She shifted from one foot to the other.
Logan let that go. His friend and neighbor’s feelings for Shadow, or hers for him, were none of his concern.
“Why did you want to see me?”
“It’s something that might test your convictions. About Blossom.”
Logan pitched another forkful of straw into an empty stall. He’d let Cyclone out into the corral to soak up some morning sun. Nothing but rain was predicted for the next week, and Logan wasn’t looking forward to that, even though the ranch needed water right now. When the first drops fell, he’d be fixated on the lower-lying stretch of land that passed for a driveway.
“Y
ou’re not curious?” Shadow asked.
“I figure you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
“I may have found her replacement.” He heard the triumphant tone in her voice but didn’t look at her. “I’d almost given up. Then, yesterday while I was combing through my file of applicants again, I got a call. About Bertrand O’Neill.”
“He’s still around? Bertie must be ninety-five if he’s a day.”
“And as you might have heard, he hasn’t been well.”
Logan pitched more fresh bedding into the stall. He needed to think about the colt’s training. Or find someone to take that on because he’d be gone soon. “I doubt Bertie would make Sam a good companion.”
“I agree. But that’s not who I meant. One of Bertie’s relatives has been staying with him for the past few months. Until recently he didn’t need much help except for a daily reminder to take his medications, someone to do laundry once a week and drive him to his doctors’ appointments.” She paused. “Then a few days ago, he took a turn for the worse. He’s in the hospital in Kansas City now.”
“His cousin—or whoever—needs a new job.”
“He’s a bit quirky and, frankly, kind of a drifter, I’ve heard. He called himself a Renaissance man—a jack-of-all-trades—on the phone, and he never gave any thought to working as an in-home caregiver before, but now he’s had some experience with Bertie.”
“Might work. Sam mostly needs someone to keep him from getting too mobile before he’s ready but—” Logan suppressed a twinge of regret that Blossom would be replaced “—from my own selfish standpoint, can this guy cook?”
Shadow smiled. “Yes, he does. He started as a line cook—chef, he said—at the old roadhouse outside Barren.”
“That place—a real hole-in-the-wall—closed years ago.”
“I’m only telling you what he said, and he claims he hasn’t forgotten what he knows. In fact, he’s since had some formal training—in France. He has plans, he said.”
For some reason—Blossom, he had to admit—the thought of this new caregiver who was also a good cook didn’t please Logan, but he said, “Great.”