Chapter 6
Logan
Ireached for my water cup. The kitchen was quiet, sunlight filtering in, casting long shadows across the counter. I grabbed my purse next, readying to leave.
"Tony," I called out. The sound of paws on hardwood echoed back at me. He barreled into the room, his tail wagging like a helicopter of excitement.
"Park time, buddy," I said, clipping the leash onto his collar. His brown eyes shimmered with understanding, and he let out a soft, whiney bark.
"Let's burn off some of that crazy." I made my way toward the door. Yesterday had been a marathon of work after I’d come back from Lachlan’s. My brain was fried from the hours I’d spent in front of the computer screen.
I patted my pocket, feeling for my keys, and then we headed out the door. I locked it behind us. Tony pulled eagerly on the leash, ready to take on the world. I smiled down at him, grateful for his unbridled joy.
"Alright, alright," I muttered.
Tony hopped into the truck. He panted happily, tongue lolling as he settled into the passenger seat. I hopped into the driver's side and turned the key, letting the engine rumble to life.
The drive felt different today—uneasy. My grip on the steering wheel was too tight.
The road unwound before us, but my eyes flicked to the rearview mirror more often than necessary.
I was just overthinking. I was sure it was simply lingering anxiety, a remnant of the chaos from the past few days.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the tension.
We arrived. The dog park was bustling with the usual suspects: pups of all sizes and their owners, all mingling. I unclipped Tony’s leash, and he shot out of the truck like a bullet. He was trained, and I made sure to always keep an eye on him. I followed him, slower, scanning for an empty bench.
That was when I saw it.
Across the street, a blacked-out SUV sat like a shadow cast by the midday sun. Parked. Just sitting there silently. A shiver raked down my spine. It had to be the cops. Maybe the same ones who had cornered me with questions? Were they watching me? Were they expecting Lachlan to show up?
"Great," I muttered as my heart sank. This wasn't just lingering anxiety—it was a full-blown warning siren now.
Tony tore across the grass, barking his hello to the world. I tried to match his enthusiasm, tried to pretend I was just here for him. But my gaze kept straying back to the SUV in my periphery.
I went through the motions, tossing Tony's ball, laughing with the other pet owners, the perfect picture of carefree. Inside, I was having a meltdown, but we couldn’t just leave after we had just gotten here. It would look too suspicious. I had to play the part.
An hour later, we were on our way. Errands filled the rest of my day, but they weren't just errands anymore. I could feel the weight of eyes on me. They were following me around and watching me.
When I finally made it back home, my mind whirled.
What should I do? My fingers twitched. Should I call Lachlan?
I was an idiot and hadn’t gotten his number, only left mine.
Should I go to him directly? I’d thought we could just tell the lie and move on with our lives.
I hadn’t anticipated we’d have to actually do anything together.
I guessed showing up would be the best thing to do, since we were dating.
Was that what they were looking for? They wanted to see if we were actually together?
“Damn it,” I hissed, throwing my purse onto the couch. Tony trotted over, his tail wagging. He nudged my leg with his wet nose, wanting my attention, or maybe he just knew I was stressed. I reached over and scratched him behind his ears, and then my phone rang.
Tony cocked his head, his ears perking up to the sound. I snatched my cell from inside my purse.
"Hello?"
"Logan, we need to talk." Lachlan's voice was a mix of gravel and concern through the phone line.
Well, I guessed that answered my question.
I stood in Lachlan's kitchen, the smell of his morning coffee still lingering in the air. One hand was perched on my hip, while the other was pinching the bridge of my nose.
"You what!?" Lachlan winced back from my words, running a hand through his tousled hair.
"Look, I was sloshed." He stopped, shrugged. Guilt pinched the corners of his eyes. No excuse could tidy up this mess. I shook my head, but in his defense, he hadn’t known my married last name had been Hanes.
The cops would be piecing together our stories, finding every crack, every mismatched detail.
Anyone who had gotten to know their significant other, especially after being together for a while, would know about their history.
Fuck. We were supposed to be this blissfully in love couple, but even I could tell we weren't convincing anyone.
On top of us supposedly getting married? Or engaged? That wasn’t happening. This charade was crumbling faster than I could have anticipated. And the worst part? We weren't even a week into the lie.
Lachlan moved to the living room and paced the length of it, the floorboards creaking under his weight. Dust motes danced in the slanting sunlight that speared through the large windows. I followed his movements with my eyes, tracking the anxious energy that radiated off him.
"It's okay," I said, breaking the silence that had settled over us. "We'll just do more stuff together so they believe our story."
He stopped pacing and faced me, his jaw set hard, the lines around his mouth deepening.
"Like what?" He threw his hands up, exasperation bleeding into his voice.
"I work at the fire department, and the other half of the time I'm working here on the farm.
" His gaze dropped to the floor, shoulders slumping.
"I can't afford to take off. I've already missed two days this week because I had to let my ass heal, literally my ass, so I don't know what you want from me.
I don't have anything else to give," he finished, his voice a low murmur.
A pang of sympathy jabbed at my chest. The vulnerability in his tone was raw.
It didn’t seem easy for this hunk of a man to admit defeat.
I remembered seeing all the late bills strung out over his dining table.
I knew what it was like to be financially strapped and barely making it by.
A part of me wanted to reach out, to offer some kind of comfort, but I held back, knowing it wasn't simply comfort he needed. He needed a plan that would work.
"Hey," I started, taking a tentative step toward him.
"We'll figure something out." My words felt hollow, even to me. The man was busy. I couldn’t think of any way we could be seen together more regularly, unless .
. . I bit my lip, tasting the remnants of my nervousness.
A plan started to form in my mind, but it was fucking crazy.
I turned to face him, his broad shoulders still slumped, the weight of our predicament etched into the furrow of his brow.
“What if I . . . moved in?” The words tumbled out before I could second-guess them.
"Temporarily, of course," I rushed to clarify, watching his reaction closely.
"That would surely prove to them this is real.
I work from home, so I'll stay out of your way, and I might even be able to help out around this place. "
His eyes flickered with something unreadable as they met mine.
He exhaled, slow and measured, as if releasing the weight he carried.
He seemed to contemplate it for a moment, but the plan made sense.
I’d moved to town to be closer to him, but we were just so madly in love that we didn’t want our work schedules to get in the way of us spending time together, so I was moving all the way in. Sounded believable to me.
"Alright . . ." His voice was low. "But only till the end of the holiday season." He straightened up, resolve hardening his stance. "It's the busiest time of the year. I'll take all the help I can get."
"Okay," I said, holding out my hand to seal the deal, but then I retracted it. "But you have to be okay with Tony coming too."
Lachlan blinked, his brow knitting together as though he were trying to piece together who Tony was. Then he realized.
“Tony?” His voice cracked slightly. "The dog that tried to eat my ass?"
“The one and only.” I smiled and the corner of his mouth twitched. He was fighting one too. I could tell.
He let out a sound, something between a groan and a growl. "Fine," he grumbled, and I could picture the gears in his head turning, trying to sort the logistics of having a furry nemesis as a houseguest. "But he needs to stay off the furniture."
“Riiight,” I drawled slowly, plastering that smile on my face, and Lachlan just rubbed his still slightly swollen forehead, as if we were already giving him a headache.
I held out my hand again, and he gripped it firmly in agreement.
He was warm, and his rough, calloused fingers felt good against my skin.
This was going to be a long few months.