Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Logan
W hen Rowan had rung asking if Logan needed anything, his first instinct was to say no. He was so used to helping out others that it was rare he needed anything for himself, which probably explained why the only person ringing to check on him was his twin.
Everyone else was just used to Logan getting on with things.
But he’d watched Harper standing with her hands massaging her head and had asked his brother for a favor.
The next day, he parked his truck on the side of the road where it had been flooded the day before. The last of the clouds had cleared and the ground was drying, but there was a mass of debris still blocking the road. Until it was cleared, Logan wouldn’t be able to drive into town, but he could get a lift.
He’d broken the news to Harper at breakfast and her squeal of delight had reassured him he’d done the right thing. Even if, afterwards, she’d second guessed herself constantly, she still got changed into another pair of those curve-hugging jeans for the trip.
His sister Cassie joked that Logan had a uniform. Jeans, boots, and a baseball cap no matter the weather. Only his shirts changed according to the temperature.
Logan just liked being practical. When he spent so much time on construction sites, jeans and his heavy work boots weren’t going to get destroyed.
But now that he was standing near to Harper he wondered if perhaps he should have listened to Cassie and got a few nicer clothes.
Who are you kidding? You’re a small town carpenter. If you started wearing fancy shit, you’d look ridiculous.
He snorted and rounded the hood of the truck, meeting Harper near the high tide mark where dirt and leaves had washed up on the road.
He glanced at her small, crushed car and shuddered. Just the thought of her in the little hatch when the tree came down was enough to turn his stomach.
Together they picked their way across what had become a creek bed, pausing at a large log that wobbled precariously as Harper tried to climb over it.
“Do you want a hand?” He gestured at the log.
She nodded and smiled her thanks. With Logan’s help, Harper climbed over the obstacle. Logan hopped down next to her just as Rowan pulled up in his battered old truck to pick them up. The back was filled with hunks of scrap metal tied down with rope.
“Harper, meet my brother, Rowan,” Logan said as he opened the door for her.
She shifted from foot to foot. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” She asked quietly.
Logan waited. They’d had this conversation twice already. He took the time to appreciate the way her blonde hair was stirred around her face by the gentle breeze. She was wearing a bronze-colored sweater; her eyes the same shade as the fabric. They were nice eyes, not quite brown but more amber colored and rimmed with black. Warm and kind eyes, but now worried.
“I can take you back to the house,” he said quietly, wanting to give her an easy out if she needed it.
She sighed. “No. You’re right. What’s the worst that can happen, right?” She gave Logan a shaky smile.
Rowan leaned forward to see out the door. “Harper is it?” He asked with a friendly smile. At least Logan hoped it was just a friendly smile.
Rowan had always been much better at talking with women than Logan, something that had never really bothered him before. Strange he thought of it now.
Harper climbed into the truck and slid along the seat until she was seated in the middle. There wasn’t much room in Rowan’s old truck. He could afford something better with the money he made selling his sculptures and with the oyster farm, but he refused to get rid of it.
“That’s right.” She offered her hand to shake.
Rowan gripped it and his smile widened. “You didn’t tell me she was such a stunner, little bro.”
Harper flushed and extracted her hand. “Little?”
Logan climbed into the truck next to Harper. The length of his thigh pressed against hers as he shut the door.
Don’t think about it.
There wasn’t much room in the truck, and Logan was not small by any stretch of the imagination. He was thankful the drive into Cape Wilde was short.
“Yeah, Logan’s my little brother.”
Logan snorted. “I’m younger by two minutes.”
Harper looked at the two men. “You’re twins?”
“Yep,” they said in unison. Logan scowled, and his twin laughed.
Rowan pulled onto the road and headed into town. “I mean, he’s not physically my little brother—” Logan snorted at that quip, “—but he is my younger brother, so…”
“And he likes to rile me up,” Logan grumbled, staring out the window and trying not to notice how good Harper’s leg felt alongside his own.
The slow press and slide of her denim clad leg against his own had his blood surging, and it took all his mental effort to keep himself under control.
It wasn’t a long drive into town, and Rowan managed to get more out of Harper in those ten minutes than Logan had since they’d met. He was scowling and grumpy when they pulled up on the main street. Rowan had barely finished parking before Logan’s booted feet hit the sidewalk.
He heard Rowan tell Harper to not worry about ‘old grumpy’ and growled under his breath.
“Wilde Buns?” Harper laughed as they approached their destination, pausing to take in the brightly colored sign.
He pushed the door open to the cafe owned by Joe and Pierre and watched as she took in the eclectic space.
Despite there not being a matching piece of furniture in the entire place, there was something about the decor that just worked. It was homey and comforting, with white tablecloths and little vases of fresh flowers on the tables. A large Pride flag hung on one wall, opposite a counter where the huge espresso machine sat, flanked by glass display cabinets stuffed full of the wares Wilde Buns was famous for.
Behind the coffee machine stood Joe, who smiled in welcome. The smell of freshly ground beans filled the air, and Logan groaned at the scent.
“Oh! Coffee,” Harper exclaimed, a sound of pleasure escaping her that sent a bolt of heat through Logan.
She was quickly becoming a hazard to his ability to function in public without embarrassing himself. She headed over to the glass display cabinet that formed part of the counter, staring at the variety of cakes and pastries.
“This is amazing!”
Logan’s lips twitched at her enthusiasm and joined her. “You should try one of Pierre’s pastries.”
“What’s good?” She peered closely at the selection.
“Everything!” Rowan laughed from behind them. “You can’t go wrong with any of them.”
“Except the dog biscuits.” Joe smiled. He was a tall, broad man in his mid-thirties with an untidy mop of sun-bleached blond hair, and an apron tied around his waist. He finished pouring heated milk into a cup and placed it on a tray. “Just don’t eat the dog biscuits.”
“Dog biscuits?” Harper straightened and looked toward Logan in question.
“Pierre can’t seem to stick to making food just for humans. He’s decided to make a range of dog treats as well,” Logan explained.
“They are excellent!” Exclaimed a slightly accented voice from an open doorway leading to the kitchen.
“Yeah, for dogs,” Joe called back with a grin.
They placed their orders—Logan insisting on paying for Harper, eliciting a curious brow raise from Rowan—and the trio headed off to find a table. Rowan held a chair out for Harper, who thanked him as she sat. Logan scowled and took the seat next to her.
“Why are you growling?”
“I’m not,” he grumbled, forcing himself to relax his shoulders.
She quirked an eyebrow and looked questioningly at the brothers. Rowan had sprawled in the chair opposite, his feet kicked forward with fingers laced together behind his head. A lazy grin slowly spread across his face.
Logan kicked him under the table.
“Ouch!” He jerked and dropped his arms. “That’s no way to treat your favorite brother.”
Logan smirked. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Boys, are you still unable to sit at the table and behave yourselves?”
Logan smiled in spite of Rowan’s best efforts to irritate him and stood to greet his mother. A small woman in her sixties, Amy West had weathered more than her fair share of heartbreak in her life, losing a son and a husband within a few years of each other. But you wouldn’t know it to look at her. Her hair that had once been dark brown was now streaked with gray, and cut in a shoulder-length bob, the ends tucked behind her ears and held in place with a bright yellow headband. She wore jeans and a tie-dyed tee shirt, a pair of work boots on her feet.
“Hi Mom.”
“Ah, Logan, good to see you.” She returned his hug and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you, Rowan.” She took the seat offered and proffered her cheek, which he kissed obligingly. “And who do we have here?”
Logan turned and introduced Harper. “Mom, this is Harper.”
The two women began to talk, and Logan watched as Harper charmed his mother and in turn was charmed. It turned out they both loved gardening, but Harper didn’t get much of a chance due to her travel schedule.
Then their orders arrived, and Harper looked like she’d discovered nirvana by pastry.
“This is so good!” She exclaimed after taking a bite from a fruit Danish.
Logan smiled watching her.
Amy excused herself to head back to her gardening, leaving behind a stack of notebooks and a pack of pens.
“Your mother forgot something,” Harper said, pointing at the notebooks.
Logan shrugged.
“Fancy seeing you here.” His cousin, Rhett, pulled up the chair his mom had been sitting on, flipping it around to sit on it backwards.
“Harper, this is my cousin, Rhett. He runs Wilde Outdoor Adventures,” Logan said.
Harper laughed at the name and Rhett quickly gave her his sales pitch.
“Enough! She doesn’t want to do white water rafting or hiking or?—”
“Maybe I do?”
Logan whipped his head toward her. “You do?”
“No, but it’s for me to say I don’t,” she quipped, poking him with a finger into his bicep.
Rowan propped his head in his hand and grinned, obviously enjoying the show.
When Rhett left, there was a cell phone on the table.
“Did your cousin just leave his phone behind?” Harper asked.
Logan and Rowan pretended not to hear her.
But it was when his sister Cassie walked up to their table carrying a guitar that Harper’s eyes narrowed at Logan.
“Can I have a word with you?” She asked in a low voice. “In private?”