Chapter 4
Logan
Iclicked away at my keyboard, lining up vendors for the Henderson wedding. The bride wanted peonies in December. Peonies. I'd make it happen—I always did. That was how I afforded the luxury of working from home in my pajama pants and fuzzy slippers.
But flowers faded to the back of my mind.
That stupid scuffle with that guy at the Christmas tree farm wouldn't leave me alone. I leaned back in my chair and chewed on the end of a pen. Who was he, and why had he grabbed me rather than calling the cops the moment he’d seen me burying a body on his property?
Also, cops hadn’t come to my door yet. The only thing I could come up with was that he knew about that severed arm.
Hell, he might’ve been the one who put it there.
What if I’d killed him when I’d hit him over the head?
After I’d gotten home last night, I’d been able to wrangle myself out of the cuff and burn the bedpost, so at least the murder weapon was gone if I had killed him.
I opened a new tab on my computer. My fingers moved across the keys: “Christmas tree farm” followed by the county name: Avric.
Top result, Evergreen Haven Christmas Tree Farm.
I clicked it and the page loaded, showing a picture of a man standing among rows of trees.
Strong jaw, furrowed brow, a hint of a smirk.
Lachlan MacGregor. That was my guy. Thirty-two, owner of an expansive stretch of land that included the decrepit farm and the woods where I’d had my little adventure. Whoops.
I was new to town and the place had seemed deserted. And hey, you didn’t do much research when you were in a lurch trying to get rid of a body. You just reacted. I should’ve known better.
I clicked away from the article, closing my laptop.
The room felt too small all of a sudden.
I needed air. But most of all, I really wanted answers.
I doubted I’d get them, and I had no desire to go back and ask questions, so I had to just move on with my life.
I’d gotten a fresh start, and I should be taking advantage of it.
Tony nudged the office door open with his nose and rushed over with his tail wagging, desperate for my attention, and I gave him snuggles.
A sharp knock at the door caught my attention. I knew what that meant. I hesitated before standing up and peeking out of the office window to see two official-looking people on my porch.
Fuck my life.
The knock came again. I padded to the door, fingers trembling as they worked the locks.
“Good afternoon, ma’am.” Two officers stood in front of me, their badges glinting. My heart dropped like a stone. I guessed he had called them after all.
"Hello, officers. How can I help you?" I kept my voice steady, betraying none of the panic that gnawed at my insides.
"I’m officer Miller, this is my partner, officer Martinez. Mind if we ask you a few questions about your husband?" The taller one, officer Miller, had a voice like gravel, his eyes seeming to scan my house behind me.
“Ex-husband. But sure, go ahead,” I said. Maybe the caveman hadn’t called after all.
“When was the last time you saw him?” Martinez asked.
“Last weekend, why?”
“Have you heard from him since?” Miller added.
“No.”
“You don’t find it odd that you haven’t heard anything from him?” Martinez eyed me.
“I could barely get the man to communicate while we were married, so no, officer. I don’t find it odd for him to ghost. It’s pretty normal for him actually. Again, why does this matter? We’ve been divorced for over six months now, and we were separated long before then.”
“Your husband is missing, and we’re trying to get to the bottom of it.
You were the last one to see him since he didn’t show up to work on Monday.
You also recently moved into a new house away from the town you guys lived in together.
Are you running from something?” Martinez asked while the other was leaning to the side to look inside my house, which still had a few unpacked boxes lying around.
Moving was a bitch so I hadn’t gotten around to unpacking everything yet.
And then his eyes seemed to snag on my dirty boots by the door.
“You take up hiking? A lot of woods around here.” I knew exactly what Miller was doing: trying to get a reaction out of me. I wouldn’t give them anything.
“No, I was out on the farm with my boyfriend, Lachlan. We’ve been together for a while. I moved out here to be closer to him, so I’d appreciate it if you left my house now and stopped making assumptions about me.” The lies slipped off my tongue so easily.
The officers exchanged a look. The shorter one scribbled something in his notebook, the scratch of pen on paper louder than my beating heart. They left soon after, offering polite goodbyes and a promise to be in touch soon.
I shut the door, leaning against it, breath whooshing out of me in relief but also terror because I would have to go back out to the farm and face the caveman again.
Here’s hoping I didn’t kill him or I’m going to be in some serious shit.
I pulled into the driveway, my heart thudding against my ribs.
The cabin was ahead and had a warm glow in the windows, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the walls.
I’d spent all day building up the courage to come up here.
Even though I could tell the home was old, it was still .
. . charming? It had a large porch that seemed to wrap around at least half of the house, and I could see an adorable porch swing.
I stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching beneath my boots, and approached the door.
It swung open before I could knock, revealing the man himself, Lachlan MacGregor, with an ice pack pressed to his head.
A giant purple lump marred the skin just above his brow from where I’d whacked him .
. . Ouch. The spot looked like a damn tumor.
I leaned against the wooden post on the porch, watching him. His fingers trembled slightly as they clutched the ice. The room smelled of old wood with the faintest hint of him. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower because his black hair was still wet and tousled over his brow.
"Before you get mad, I gave the cops your name, so if you try to kill me, the first place they’re coming is here."
His eyes snapped up to mine. “You did what!?” Anger flared in his eyes, but I saw fear too, which let me know everything I needed. He was just as guilty as I was.
Lachlan’s jaw clenched, muscles working beneath the skin like he was chewing on glass.
"Also," I said, "I told them we were dating." The words fell between us. "Statistically speaking, spouses or significant others are always the first suspects. If I go down, you're going down with me."
"The fuck—I don’t even know who you are,” he growled, running a hand through his hair and wincing. He murmured to himself about me being off my trolley before he finally shifted back to me. “Why? Why do all of this?!"
"Because you kidnapped me!" I spat out. "And chained me up to a bedpost!" His head tilted, an unreadable expression painting his rugged face as he glanced around us, as if anyone would be out here in the middle of nowhere.
"I was trying to help!" His words were clipped.
I almost laughed. "That’s your version of help? Snatching someone who’s already on edge because they’re trying to bury a body!?” His eyes flared. "Well, now you know that's not helpful!" I snapped.
Silence slammed into us as he glanced around. I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed whatever retort was on the tip of his tongue. He ran a hand through his hair again, making it messier than before.
"Alright . . . ," he finally muttered. His gaze slid away from mine, and he looked lost in thought.
I let out a slow breath, trying to steady the jittering nerves that danced beneath my skin. My hands were clammy, so I rubbed them on my jeans.
“Look,” I started, my voice steadier than I felt. "We're in this mess together now. Whether you like it or not."
He turned back to me, those intense gray eyes narrowing. "So, what then? We’re accomplices?”
"Partners," I corrected firmly. “We need the cops to believe that we’re a thing, so just go along with it if they show up.” I turned and started to leave.
“If you want this to be believable, I think I’m going to need your name, bonnie lass,” he said, and I almost laughed because it was true we knew nothing about each other.
And what the hell was a bonnie lass? I turned and found him leaning against the doorframe, his eyes roving over me, leaving heat wherever they looked.
“Right. Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Logan Roark.
Let’s say we’ve been dating a year, and I moved out here to be closer to you.
We met through, I don’t know, an event I was the coordinator for, and we bumped into each other and hit it off.
I’m an event planner, by the way, so let's go with that for now. Okay, now, what about you?”
“Uh, I’m Lachlan MacGregor.”
“That’s all you got? Pretty sure I got more from the Google search I did.”
“I’m a simple man, Logan. You Google-searched me?”
“Yeah, I had to know who the caveman was that tried to kidnap me.”
He chuckled then. “I think if we’re going to chat anymore, it should be inside.”
“Is this the part where you kill me?”
“No, Logan, we need to know the dirty details, too, if we want this to work.” I liked the way he said my name, it sent heat through me.
“Alright,” I agreed, and he moved to the side as an invitation for me to come in. I walked in and honestly, the place could use some love, there was a stack of unpaid bills on the table by the door, but he grabbed those and tossed them in a drawer as he started hobbling toward the kitchen.
“Drink?” he asked as he opened one of the cabinets and grabbed two glasses and a bottle of something that looked strong. It hadn’t been opened yet.