Chapter 107
Logan’s truck is in the driveway.
He’s standing in front of me with his dark brown hair and his whiskey eyes with those long lashes. He’s dressed in his blue t-shirt and worn jeans and cowboy boots. He’s getting wet from the rain pouring down, and I can’t stop staring at him long enough to invite him inside.
Because he’s supposed to be in Florida.
I take him in slowly.
Dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in days, his pale face a stark contrast to his day-old sexy stubble, but his cheeks wear a familiar flush.
That flush he has when he’s happy about something.
And the sparks in his eyes are frenzied as he takes me in hungrily like he hasn’t really seen me in months.
I look at him, then back to his truck, then back to him.
“What—” I start to say. “Why—are you here?”
“To find you,” he says simply.
I stare up at him as my lips part.
His gaze is unrelenting on my face, and then it drifts to my green and white checked cowgirl button-down shirt, my denim cut-off shorts, and my bare feet with freshly painted pink toenails. He drags his gaze back up to mine and tugs at my braid. “I like your hair that way.”
He grabs my hand and gently pulls me outside onto my top step. The rain comes down onto our heads as he brings me so close to him I can hear his racing heart and smell the familiar scent of moss mixed with cowboy.
When he cups my face in both hands and puts his mouth on mine, I melt into him, desperately kissing him back.
His tongue tastes like whiskey, and it asks me to let him in.
I do without hesitation as I press my body even closer against his.
He feels warm and solid, and I lean against his solid chest and wrap my arms around his waist.
His lips go to my neck, and I roll my head back as he sucks and licks his way down to my collarbone. The raindrops fall on my face as I let out a moan.
Logan removes his lips from my neck and chastely kisses my head. “Let’s go to the lake. The rain will stop soon.”
The path is so muddy from all the rain that we can hardly get the truck through the West Street parking lot to the private part beyond.
But Logan is determined, and after ten minutes of stopping and starting, we make it to our favorite part, the part where no one hardly ever goes and certainly not on a night this wet.
And like a second miracle tonight, as soon as we park, the rains stop.
“I picked up dry firewood and marshmallows.” Logan lays out a thick picnic blanket, the kind that’s waterproof on the bottom. “You hungry?”
“Always.”
I help him start the fire, and we sit around it in silence. It casts a bright enough light that I can see Logan clearly next to me. I try to stay calm, but my foot is tap dancing on the nearby log. My insides are clenched with anxiety.
But I learned a long time ago that pushing Logan just makes him shut down more.
So I accept the marshmallow on a stick that he offers me and eat it in two quick bites.
I toss the empty stick on the ground and stare into the flames of the fire, wondering if I could get some sort of a medal in patience.
Logan finishes his third marshmallow, and his empty stick lands next to mine on the ground.
That’s when he decides he’s ready to talk.
“I knew you’d pick up,” he says to me suddenly.
“What?”
“Last night,” he says. “Even though it was four-thirty in the morning. I knew you’d pick up.”
“Well, of course, silly.” I smile.
“You don’t always know that. There are a lot of people you can’t count on, you can’t be sure will be there for you.”
I look at him sharply.
He reaches over and touches my hand with his just for a split second. His profile shows little, but I can see one thing, and that’s how much he’s blinking.
“What are you holding back?” I stand up and step between his legs so I can look right into his eyes. “What are you crying over?”
He tries to turn away, but his eyes fill with tears, and then the tears spill over. I reach out and start to wipe them off his face, but as fast as I do, more tears keep coming. Just like when the river flooded all those years ago— an overflow from being dammed up too tight for too long.
I put my arms around him and pull him close to me. “Tell me,” I whisper.
I’m ready. For almost anything except what comes out of his mouth.
“Gigi’s mother slept with your father.”
Shit.
I jerk my head back and look into Logan’s eyes to make sure he’s not telling some dumb joke.
But he’s never looked so serious.
“I overheard her father talking about Benjamin Henwood who owns The Cowherd Whiskey. He said he had a lot of dirt on Mr. Henwood and he’d make sure he got put behind bars for life and that his family would lose the bar.”
I’m swaying. My body is so weak I can’t hold it up.
But I don’t need to because Logan’s arms wrap around me tightly. He tugs me forward and I sink down onto his lap.
“How many years ago did she sleep with my daddy?”
“Four.”
Four. So, Skip did his research. Like always.
“I went out to West Texas, because that’s where Mr. Phillips was headed. He’d mentioned the name of his hotel, and I checked in…”
“You must have spent a fortune,” I say in horror.
“It was worth it.”
“Logan…”
“I waited a while before I even saw him. I was afraid I’d miss him altogether.
But then, Gigi approached me privately. She liked what I was painting, and she confessed she had a problem.
She pointed out her father, and we got to talking.
I told her I knew your father, and I said he didn’t deserve prison.
She asked if I would be interested in a mutual deal—a win-win for both of us. ”
“What would Gigi win?”
When Logan explains about her inheritance, I start to get it. Why she seemed so lost. When she learned to shoot, she finally felt in control of something, something her parents couldn’t take away from her. I feel a twinge of shame for how I judged her.
“Gosh, the grass really does seem greener, doesn’t it?” I say out loud. “Tell me the rest of the story.”
“Somehow, we pulled it off,” Logan says.
“We convinced Mr. Phillips we were in love and that we wanted to marry right away. He asked me to sign a prenup promising I wouldn’t fight her for the money if we divorced, and I did.
And he signed off on agreeing to destroy all evidence that he made up about your father. He agreed to let all of it go.”
I stare at him. “You agreed to marry her…to save my family?”
“I agreed to marry her for you, Macey.” Logan’s eyes turn feral. “I would do anything to protect you. You know that. Just like I know you would—and have—for me.”
“Logan. Shit.” I put my hand on his cheek. “I can’t believe any of this. Is that why you and Gigi didn’t have sex? Because it wasn’t real?”
He nods. “I never even kissed her on the mouth. I missed you every second I was with her.”
“I missed you, too. So much.” I furrow my brow. “So what ended up happening in Florida? I’m guessing you didn’t get married.”
Logan shakes his head. “We didn’t. My dad dragged the truth out of me at the hotel.
He knew I was covering something. He knew I was this close to running.
Even though it was fake, I couldn’t imagine being with anyone but you.
And so, I told him everything. He didn’t want me to do it that way, to marry someone I didn’t love.
Even if it was for you. So we came up with another plan. ”
“Knowing your father, I’m almost afraid to ask what this plan entailed,” I say. “Seriously, I am.”
Logan grins. “It wasn’t that bad. Gigi and I went to her parents and told them the truth.
They were stunned their daughter would go that far because of her father’s restrictions and demands.
Mr. Phillips agreed to change the inheritance rules.
Her sisters both got married at eighteen and didn’t fight back, so she was the first one to raise a fuss. ”
“That’s good for Gigi.”
“And Mrs. Phillips was furious with her husband for what he had planned on doing to your father. She had no idea, and she put a stop to it. She admitted she didn’t have her ring on the night your daddy hit on her, and she never told him she was married.
She made her husband let the whole thing go.
He had new legal documents drawn up, and he signed off on them. I saw them myself.”
I widen my eyes. “So…”
“So it’s done. Your father’s safe, and I’m single. And Gigi’s getting her money without having to hitch onto a guy.”