by R J Nolan
“You go first,” Logan said, motioning toward the narrow stairs. Only one of them could go up at a time.
“No.” No way in hell was she going to go up first. If something should happen, she wasn’t going to be the cause of Logan getting hurt. “You go first. I’ll be right behind you.”
Logan crossed her arms over her chest. “No. You first. I’ll be right behind you.”
Dale squared off with Logan, mirroring her position. “No. Go on.”
Logan’s brow lowered, and she shook her head.
Dale stared at her for several long moments. “So we’re just going to stand here in the rain?”
“Apparently.” Logan motioned toward the steps. “Unless you decide to move your ass up the stairs—first.”
Dale growled. “Damn stubborn woman,” she muttered.
Logan snorted. “Pot calling the kettle black.”
Dale couldn’t believe this was happening. She thought Casey was relentless. She threw her fiercest glare at Logan, who still didn’t budge an inch. “Fine. Have it your way.”
Logan’s expression instantly softened. She put her hand on Dale’s arm. “Thank you.”
Dale gazed into Logan’s eyes and took a step closer, drawn in by the emotion swirling in the topaz-brown depths. A cramp in her thigh brought her up short. Damn.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed.
Dale needed to get up the stairs—while she still could. “Come on.” She grabbed the rails and headed up the steps before Logan could question her further.
By the time they approached the top of the stairs, Logan had a death grip on the railing. Dale had faltered several times, but caught herself and recovered. As hard as it was to watch her struggle, Logan knew Dale would resent her intervening. She had to do this for herself if she could. At least she had given in and allowed Logan to follow her up the steps.
When they reached solid ground, relief washed over Logan, and she barely restrained herself from pulling Dale into her arms, well aware that she wouldn’t appreciate the emotional display. She blew out a breath. “The cove is great, but those stairs are a bitch. My calves are burning.”
Dale turned around, surprise evident on her face. “Yeah. They do give you a workout.”
Logan stepped close to her. “I’m glad we both ended up here today.”
“Me too.”
The world around them receded as Logan lost herself in Dale’s stormy gray eyes.
Dale closed the distance between them until their bodies lightly brushed. Her irises changed, becoming streaked with blue.
Logan’s heart rate tripped double time. She knew they were about to kiss and what a bad idea it was but couldn’t seem to make herself move.
An ice-cold gust of rain doused them, cooling her rapidly rising libido. She gasped and stepped back.
“Son of a bitch,” Dale muttered.
Logan was torn between thankfulness at the interruption and shaking her fist at the sky. At the moment, her body was all for the latter. “Come on.” She grabbed Dale’s hand and headed for the parking lot.
By the time they reached the lot, the storm had struck full force.
Reluctantly releasing Dale’s hand, Logan said, “See you tonight.” She ducked her head against the pounding rain and headed for her SUV.
Dale grabbed her arm before she could walk away. “Come home with me.”
After what almost happened a few minutes ago, that didn’t seem like a very bright idea. And then there was the whole issue of the Christmas decorations that she was sure were at Dale’s place. She couldn’t face that today. Logan started to shake her head.
As if she had guessed her thoughts, Dale said, “There aren’t any decorations.”
Logan hesitated as dark thoughts stirred. You deserve to be alone. What would she think of you if you told her everything? Would Dale even want to be around her if she knew of Logan’s part in Emily’s death? Guilt swamped her, and she struggled to push the feeling down.
Dale wrapped her arm around her shoulders and tugged her close as if she sensed her rising emotions.
Logan burrowed her face against Dale’s rain-soaked leather jacket.
“Please,” Dale whispered close to her ear.
Logan couldn’t bring herself to deny Dale. She straightened and met her warm gaze. “Okay.”
Dale lightly touched Logan’s cheek with her free hand before letting her arm drop. “Great. Call me from your car, and I’ll give you the address. That way, if we get separated you’ll be able to find my place.” She turned away and headed for her Jeep before Logan could change her mind.
Logan trudged toward her SUV. Once inside, she pushed her sopping hair off her face. She shouldn’t have agreed to go with Dale. While that was undoubtedly true, she clung to one thought: with the myriad of beaches along this stretch of the coast, they had ended up on the same one, Dale once again showing up just when she needed her most—that had to mean something. Her phone rang, pulling her from her thoughts. She retrieved it from her pocket. A smile tugged at her lips as she pressed the connect button. “Hey, Dale.”
CHAPTER 25
Dale had been uncharacteristically quiet since meeting in the parking garage. Logan peered at her through half-lidded eyes as they rode the elevator to Dale’s apartment. Did she regret inviting Logan to her home? Logan was certainly having second thoughts.
When the elevator dinged, announcing their arrival on the third floor, Dale started. She shook her head, then hesitantly met Logan’s gaze. “I’m at the end of the hall.”
Worry tugged at Logan as they walked down the hall. Dale was unsuccessfully trying to hide a limp. Had she injured herself on the stairs at the beach? Or was it from wearing her prosthesis too long? She longed to ask the questions but resisted since Dale seemed uncomfortable with any mention of her injuries.
Dale unlocked the door to her apartment, pushed it open, and motioned Logan inside.
Logan stepped just inside the door and hesitated, very aware of her shoes that were leaving sand and drops of water on Dale’s hardwood floor.
Dale had no such concerns. She pulled off her soaked leather jacket and hung it on a nearby hall tree. “Give me your jacket, and I’ll hang it here to dry.” Her athletic shoes squished as she made her way into the living room. She glanced over her shoulder and seemed surprised to see Logan still standing by the door. “Come into my bedroom, and I’ll get you some dry clothes. Don’t worry about the floor. I’ll take care of it once we get dry. Then I’ll make us something to eat.”
A rush of unexpectedly strong arousal short-circuited Logan’s brain at the “come into my bedroom.” The pulsing at her core was just as quickly doused when the rest of Dale’s words sunk in. No way was she going to try to squeeze into Dale’s too-small clothes. Dale was superbly muscled and not the least bit skinny, and while they were the same height, that didn’t change the fact that Logan had twenty-five pounds on her—if not more. “That’s okay. I’ll just take off my socks and shoes.” She quickly shucked the aforementioned items and tucked her wet socks into her shoes. “My pants dried out in the car.” She walked into the living room, her toes curling at the feel of the cold wood beneath her bare feet. “You go ahead and get changed. I’m fine.”
Dale glanced down at Logan’s pants, then back up, a scowl marring her face. “You’re not very good at telling an…untruth.”
“I’m not—” Logan grimaced when Dale arched an eyebrow. Okay, so she was lying, but for a good reason. She didn’t want to be forced into admitting Dale’s clothes were going to be too small for her. “They’ll be dry soon. I’m good.”
“You’re being ridiculous. We’re both soaked.” She tugged Logan by the hand. “Come on. I’ve got sweats that will fit you.” She met her gaze and clearly read her real concern. “No worrie
s.”
Logan ducked her head, a flush heating her cheeks at being so transparent. She allowed Dale to lead her to her bedroom. A queen bed was centered on the far wall with a leather chair and ottoman tucked in the corner next to it. A short, double-sided oak bookcase filled the wall opposite the bed and had a large TV perched on top. She caught a glimpse of what looked like forearm crutches before Dale shoved them under the bed.
Dale rummaged in the chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of sweatpants, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a pair of thick athletic socks. “Here you go. The shirt might be a little tight,” she stammered, a bright blush lighting her face.
What did she have to be embarrassed about? Logan was the one who was going to look like a fat blimp.
Dale cleared her throat. “But the pants will fit fine.”
Logan doubted that very much. Clenching her teeth, she forced herself to accept the clothes, at the same time cursing herself for not thinking this through before agreeing to come home with Dale. But she had few options other than leaving. And if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to do that. She was freezing and needed to get out of her wet clothes, as did Dale. “Thanks.”
Dale returned to the dresser and pulled out a second set of clothes.
She darted her gaze around the room. “Um…where should I change?” No way was she going to strip in front of Dale. She couldn’t imagine Dale would be comfortable with that either.
“The shower is right through there.” She pointed toward an open doorway. “Towels and washcloths are on the rack above the commode. Shampoo and body wash are in the shower.”
No way! Logan hugged the clothes to her chest. Changing into dry clothing was one thing, but she had no intention of getting naked and showering. That was way too far out of her comfort zone. “Ah…no thanks. I’ll just change into the dry stuff, and I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll never get warm unless you get a hot shower. Go on. Just leave your wet clothes on the counter, and I’ll get them after I take my shower.”
Logan shook her head.
Dale stepped closer. Her brow lowered, and her eyes turned steely gray.
Uh. Oh. Logan was coming to know that look.
“I only have the one full bathroom, and I’m not taking a shower until after you do. So the longer you delay, the longer I have to stand here and be miserable and cold.”
Logan had no doubt that Dale would do exactly as she said. “That’s dirty pool.”
“You’re right.” Dale motioned toward the streaks of sand and water they had left on the floor. “We’ve got dirty water and sand. Get your ass in the shower so I can clean up this mess and get out of these wet clothes.”
Logan growled at Dale’s twisting of her words. “I can help clean up.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Dale met her glare. “Just get in the shower.”
And she calls me stubborn. She huffed out a breath. “Okay. But you have to let me fix us something to eat. I can make whatever you had planned. I’m a good cook.”
Dale started to protest, then grinned. “Deal. You shower and I’ll set everything out for you in the kitchen.” She turned and walked away before Logan could change her mind.
As much as it made her uncomfortable using Dale’s shower, the thought of getting out of her wet clothes and warming her chilled body quickened Logan’s steps.
As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut, Dale slumped against the wall outside the bedroom with a pained groan. Although she was going to pay a steep price, she didn’t regret inviting Logan home. She couldn’t bear the thought of Logan spending the day alone. And truth be told, regardless of the fact that Logan had a stubborn streak a mile wide, Dale took comfort in her nearness.
Pushing off the wall, she gritted her teeth against the stabbing pain that shot up her leg. She just hoped like hell that she would be able to get the prosthetic back on after her shower, because right now, it felt as if a nail were being driven into the base of her stump. She glanced down the hall at the water and sand on the floor, then glared down at her soaking wet shoes covered in sand. She was going to have to at least take off the shoes. But that meant exposing her prosthetic foot. Damn. What was the point of cleaning up if she was just going to continue to track sand everywhere? Screw it. She limped back to the front door and removed her shoes and socks before cuffing the bottom of her jeans.
She was tempted to put on a pot of coffee or make some hot chocolate, but either would keep her awake. And at some point, she would need to sleep before work tonight and so would Logan.
First things, first. Knowing she didn’t have a lot of time, she set about cleaning up the floor.
Dale kept an ear tuned for the shower shutting off. Thoughts of Logan, naked with hot, soapy water cascading down her lush curves, brought a warm flush to her chilled body and was a welcome distraction from the pain of wearing her prosthesis far too long.
When the shower cut off, Dale quickly finished with the floor and headed for the kitchen. She regretfully pushed aside her fantasies. That was all they would ever be—unfulfilled fantasies.
Surveying the items on the kitchen counter, Dale made sure she hadn’t missed anything Logan would need.
“What am I making?”
Dale glanced up.
Logan stood at the entrance of the small kitchen. Her T-shirt hugged Logan’s every curve and stretched tight over her ample chest.
Good lord. Her mouth suddenly desert dry, she had to clear her throat twice before she found her voice. “I was going to make pecan pancakes.”
Logan crossed her arms over her chest and eyed the ingredients spread across the counter. “So you like to cook too?”
“Honestly, not really, but I make an exception for today. It’s a family tradition to have them for breakfast…” Dale caught herself before she could say Christmas morning.
Logan’s expression dimmed, and Dale felt like kicking herself.
Dale picked up the box of pancake mix. Her enthusiasm for the Christmas treat had fled with Logan’s smile. “Actually, I wasn’t thinking. I don’t have a written recipe. How about you make something else, eggs maybe?”
Logan took the box from her hand. “I can make the pancakes.” A smile touched her lips. “I don’t need a recipe.”
“You don’t?”
Logan elbowed her. “Don’t sound so surprised. I told you. I’m a good cook. I’d like to make them.”
Dale grinned. “That’s good, ’cause mine usually aren’t that great. I always tell myself it’s more the thought that counts.”
“I’ve got this under control. Get out of those wet clothes and shower.” Logan shooed her out the room.
“Yes, ma’am.” Dale threw her a mock salute.
As Dale padded into her bedroom, the squeak made by her forearm crutches on the hardwood floor sounded louder than usual. She dropped down onto the side of the bed and shoved the crutches underneath it. While a quick massage during her shower had helped ease some of the pain of her residual limb, she knew it was going to be a bitch donning the prosthetic. Eyeing the damn thing with more distaste than usual, she forced herself to pick it up. She had already put a dry sock and shoe on the prosthesis. She did the same with her real leg.
After having worn the prosthetic for over sixteen hours, what she really needed to do was leave it off until she left for work tonight. She blew out a breath. That wasn’t going to happen. Not with Logan here. She retrieved all her supplies from the bedside table. After pulling up her sweatpant leg above her knee, she inspected her residual limb. She had developed a silver-dollar-size rub spot directly over the distal end of the stump. Damn it! Without proper care, the skin could easily break down and become infected.
She took care of the stump, then carefully rolled a clean liner over it. She hesitated, then prepared to don the prosthesis. “Embrace the suck,” she muttered, repea
ting Casey’s favorite phrase as she pushed the limb into the socket. Tears sprang into her eyes. Fuck, that hurts. She took slow, deep breaths until the worst of the pain had subsided.
Once she was sure she could stand, she got to her feet. She hissed as she pushed the stump all the way into the bottom of the socket until she heard the lock click. Clenching her jaw, she took several steps. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but she managed not to limp too blatantly. She hoped it would be enough to convince Logan that she was fine.
She gathered up their wet clothes and wrapped them in a dry towel. When she opened her bedroom door, an enticing aroma caught her attention. She took a deep breath, and her mouth started to water.
Dale headed down the hall as fast as her leg would allow.
The dining room table was already set with plates and silverware. Logan stepped around the corner with two glasses of orange juice. She stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of Dale.
Logan’s gaze swept down Dale’s body. She looked up with a scowl. “Why are you still wearing that?”
She wasn’t wearing anything from earlier. “What?” Dale tried to figure out what had garnered Logan’s disapproval.
“Your prosthetic. You’ve had it on a really long time.”
Dale’s jaw dropped open. She couldn’t believe Logan had even mentioned her prosthesis, much less questioned her about wearing it. Shame at her infirmity swept her. She ducked her head. “It’s fine.”
Logan set the juice glasses on the table with an audible thump. “Apparently, you’re not very good at telling…untruths either. You’re not fine, or you wouldn’t be limping.”
Dale jerked her head up and scowled at Logan. “I’m just a little tired.” She hefted the bundle in her arms. “I’m going to go throw these in the washer.”
Logan caught Dale’s arm before she could walk away. “Look me in the eyes, and tell me you’re not in any pain.”
Damn the woman! “I know when I need to take it off. I’ll do it later.”