Chapter 46
Logan
I’m in my cottage working on my latest painting when a man with dark-rimmed glasses walks through the field adjacent to my little backyard. He’s wearing a cowboy hat, but I’d recognize a fake cowboy a county away.
He doesn’t see me inside the cottage, and I make no move to see what he wants. I’ve only got an hour before I need to go eat dinner with Gigi and my parents, and I intend to use every second I can for myself. I’ve been in a bad mood all day, and I know the reason why.
After Blake and I finished fishing, my mom pulled me aside as soon as I got home.
“I think you should give Gigi this.” She handed me the pearl necklace her mama had given her on her wedding day.
I’d heard the story a hundred times throughout my life. And my mom always said that whichever son married first would be the one to be able to pass this necklace down to his wife.
I never thought much about it, because I never planned to marry.
But that was before. The moment Mama put the pearls into my hand, an image of Macey wearing the necklace popped unbidden into my head.
She was my wife. Even if we were drunk off our asses and decided to divorce, she was still my wife. She still is my wife.
I pushed away the thought and went to bed, but it was there when I got up this morning. Giving Gigi my mother’s necklace that means so much to her feels wrong on many levels. But the fact that I’m imagining giving it to someone else makes it worse.
As soon as I finished my ranch work for the day, I made up an excuse to Gigi and headed for the cottage. I’ve been here ever since, trying to paint my way out of my shitty mood.
I take a close look at the two people standing on the riverbank on the easel in front of me.
This painting is going to be my birthday gift to Macey this year.
And ever since I got back to town with a fake fiancée, it’s also been my salvation.
I’ve poured everything I’ve felt and can’t say to Macey into this canvas.
I’ll come back here tonight after everyone’s asleep and paint some more. Right now, I need to burn off some steam.
I throw a protective towel over the easel and wash off my paintbrushes.
By the time I make it across the ranch and into the rodeo pen, I’m sweating from the stifling heat. The sun is big and bright and the cloudless sky leaves no room for shade.
The ranch hand working the back field comes over and helps me wrangle Prince into the chute. I climb over the fence rail and carefully seat myself on his back, wrapping my fingers tightly around the rigging handle.
From my perch on Prince, I look out over the gate. The man with glasses and cowboy hat is walking toward the rodeo pen. He stops outside the fence and looks in my direction.
Who the hell is this guy?
“You ready, Logan?” the ranch hand asks me.
I give him a nod, and he releases the gate.
Sometimes I wish it were legal to ride your own bronc in rodeo contests. Prince and I would be unstoppable. But I’ll settle for getting to practice with him on my family ranch.
And today, I probably would have been better off keeping my feet on the ground.
Prince is in a dark mood today, but it matches the way I’m feeling. Slightly reckless, a little unhinged, and a lot pissed off.
That’s not always a good combination for bronc riding. I manage to hold on for longer than I probably deserved considering where my head’s at, and my fall isn’t too rough. I land on my ass in the soft dirt section of the ring, and the ranch hand collects Prince and leads him away.
As I stand up and dust myself off, I hear—
“Mr. Wild?”
I do a slow turn around and face the man by the fence. As I exit the ring and walk toward him, he stands up straight and gives me a friendly nod.
“I’m Skipper Scott, reporter for the Darcy Gazette and Dallas Sun.” He extends his hand to me. “I hear this town thinks you’re the hero to save Jane Austen’s ghost.”
I shake his hand briefly. “I’m not a hero. And you weren’t invited here.”
He steps back a couple of paces. “Your ex-wife, Ms. Macey Henwood, told me where to find you.”
He smiles at me innocently as he looks at me, but I know he’s trying to bait me. And he picked the wrong cowboy.
“Yes, this is where to find me. But I don’t want to be found.” I start walking toward the front fields. “I’ll escort you back to Main Street. You’ll find plenty of Darcy residents to interview in town.”
He doubles his pace to keep up with my long stride. I don’t look over at him once.
“I’m not your typical reporter, Mr. Wild. You know why?”
Something about the way he says it gets my blood boiling. Still, I keep walking in silence.
“I look for the details no one else thinks are important. Little things like body language. You, for example, don’t seem like a man happily in the middle of a whirlwind romance. And your ex-wife didn’t mask her obvious bias that you and your fiancé aren’t the soul mates of Darcy.”
I stop on a dime and stare at him. “What do you want, Mr. Scott?”
“Call me Skip.” The cunning look in his eyes disappears and is replaced by friendliness. “I think you and I will be seeing a lot of each other this summer. It’s good to meet you.”
He waves goodbye and heads for the road ahead.
I run my hand down my face. The last thing I need is an out-of-town reporter poking his nose into my business.
But he clearly isn’t going anywhere. Which means I need to be extra careful and not give him anything he can use to screw up my false engagement.
Protecting Macey comes first. When this is all over, I can explain everything to her.
I just have to make sure things go according to plan.