Blame It on the Cowboy (10 page)

“You loved your grandfather?” he asked.

It took her a moment to trust her voice. More wine helped. “Yes. He was the only sane thing in my life when I was growing up. He died when I was twelve. After that, no more sanity until I was able to escape at sixteen.”

“You ran away from home?”

She hoped this didn't take them back to the subject of Spenser. “More like my parents ran away from me. I called the cops on them when they took some things from one of our elderly neighbors. They were arrested, and when they made bail, they didn't come back to the apartment. I figured if I stayed, I'd end up in foster care so I took off.”

This probably sounded like a nightmare to someone who'd been raised on that massive McCord Ranch. Then again, Logan had had his own version of a nightmare. “You were…what…nineteen when your parents died?” she said. “So, you weren't much older than I was when you were on your own.”

Reese instantly regretted bringing that up. Logan dodged her gaze, and he took a moment before he shook his head. “I wasn't on my own. I had Della and Stella. My brothers and sister. The whole town rallied around us. Plus, I had finished high school and was in my first year of college.”

Still, a town, housekeepers and siblings couldn't replace loving parents, and from everything she'd heard, his parents had been exactly that—loving. However, there seemed to be something missing, something he wasn't saying that made her believe their deaths were still a wound that hadn't fully healed.

They finished their meal and gathered up the dishes to take to the sink. “Did my friend Jason say anything to you today?” he asked.

The question was so out of the blue that it threw her for a moment. Good grief. Who had tattled? “He came into the café at the end of the lunch shift and asked me out. I didn't think anyone heard him.”

“Word gets around.”

That was it. No opinion on how he felt about that. Which meant Logan probably didn't have an opinion. Still, this whole eating-chicken deal seemed as if he did indeed have something to say to her. If he'd just wanted her out of his life, he could have had Greg bring over the watch, and it would have saved him from washing an extra plate and wineglass.

“In case you're wondering, I told Jason no, that I was leaving town,” Reese explained.

“And if you weren't leaving?”

Logan didn't seem like the type to pose what-if questions. “What's this all about?” she came out and asked.

He took his time. “Jason doesn't know what happened between us.”

Oh, she got it then. “You're worried I'll say something to him. I won't. What happens in San Antonio…” Reese stopped. “Or maybe you're just concerned that I'm not the right kind of woman for him.”

“You're not.”

Reese pulled back her shoulders, was ready to say a quick goodbye, but then Logan added, “Jason moves pretty fast from one woman to another without thinking things through. He tends to hurt women without even realizing it.”

She pulled back her shoulders even more but this time for a different reason. “Are you actually looking out for me?”

He stared at her and leaned against the sink. “I can't get involved with you.”

A burst of air left her mouth. It sounded like a laugh, but it definitely wasn't humor driven. “Believe me, I understand.”

“No, you don't. You think it's because of what people will say. And that was part of it in the beginning. It's because I'm not ready to get involved with anyone.”

“Believe me, I understand,” she repeated, this time without the humorless burst of air. “It's only been a couple of months, and you were with Helene for a long time. Plus, there's the whole thing about us not being compatible.”

The moment the last word left her mouth, she got a flash of them in bed together. Naked. With Logan's toned and perfect body stretched out over hers. The brief image was more than enough for her to remember everything. To feel everything. And the heat slid through her, settling in her female nether regions.

“Opposites,” she amended. Because they had been compatible in bed.

He nodded. Gave her a long, lingering look that singed her toenail polish along with frying some brain cells. The man should come with a warning label attached to his zipper.

She headed to the door, and Logan followed her. Reese turned back around to tell him good, but Logan spoke before she could say anything.

“I want you to stay,” he said.

Because she was still dealing with the singeing and frying, it took her a moment to hear him.

“In town?” she clarified. Because her mind was already starting to weave a nice little fantasy where they got naked and landed in bed.

“In town,” he verified. Though she thought he might be dealing with his own singeing feelings. Feelings he definitely didn't want to have even though it was just old-fashioned lust.

“You're okay with that?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Boy, talk about a conflict in body language so she repeated it. “You're okay with that?”

“Della said I was being an ass,” he explained. “She guessed the reason you were leaving had something to do with me. I don't know how. I swear the woman has ESP. So, I told her that I would let you know it was okay for you to stay.”

Reese gave that some thought. “If I stay, we'll end up in bed again.”

“Yes.” No hesitation. Not a drop. And neither was the kiss he gave her.

He didn't linger with the kiss as he had done the look. Just a quick brush on her mouth to let her know that if she stayed, she could have a whole lot more of Logan.

But not without risks.

She figured those risks were too big to take. Not just for Logan but for herself.

“Goodbye,” she told him.

Reese walked away and didn't look back. The best thing she could do for Logan and for herself was be on that 6:00 a.m. bus out of town.

CHAPTER NINE

E
VEN
THOUGH
L
OGAN
knew it was a dream, he couldn't force himself to wake up. Images of the accident that felt so real he could practically feel the cold rain on his skin, could smell the stench of the gasoline spewing from the cars.

Logan didn't remember getting out of his truck. Not then, not now in the dream. He was just there, his feet on the asphalt, running in the rain to get to them in time.

The steam from the radiator had fogged up the windshield and windows, but even through the cloudy glass, he saw Claire. His folks had given her a ride home from a ball game, and she was in the backseat. She appeared to be dazed. Even though she'd been seventeen at the time, she looked much younger in her band uniform.

And helpless.

It seemed to take an eternity to get to the car, and Logan threw open Claire's door first. She tumbled out into his arms, no longer conscious. That's when Logan looked in the front seat.

That's when he knew he'd fucked up.

He hadn't called for help yet. And that skid had cost him seconds. Seconds he didn't have.

His parents weren't moving, though his mother was making some kind of gurgling sound in her throat. And the blood. God, there was so much blood.

Logan took out his phone. His hands were shaking—costing him even more seconds. And in each of those seconds, his mother was still making those sounds.

No sounds from his father, though.

Logan pressed in 911, and like that night he didn't know who answered or what he said. The only thing he remembered was the emergency operator told him that help was on the way.

Claire moaned, a reminder that she was still alive, and for her to stay that way he needed to get her off the road. Away from that spewing engine, too. There was enough spilled gasoline to start a fire.

“What happened?” Claire mumbled.

He didn't answer. Couldn't. Logan just put her on the gravel shoulder and threw open the front passenger door. His mother's eyes fluttered, threatening to close, but she managed to turn her head and look at him.

Had she said something?

She didn't in the dream. Perhaps she didn't that night, either, but there were times when Logan let himself believe that she had spoken. That she had said the words that he wished she'd said.

It's all right. I forgive you for not saving us.

* * *

T
HERE
WERE
PLENTY
of days that Logan loved his job. This wasn't one of them. He always felt a little like a circus monkey whenever he had to pose for a photo shoot for a magazine. No way could he do this for a living, but a magazine article was always good promo for the business. Considering the crap rumors that were still floating around about Helene and him, Logan figured the family and business could use all the good publicity they could get.

Plus, as bad as this was, it was also a distraction. Something he'd found himself wanting today. And no, it didn't have anything to do with Reese. Or that shit-brown sofa in his loft. Or the paperwork that'd been screwed up on a recent sale. Or the nightmare still rifling through his head.

Okay, maybe it did have a little to do with Reese.

But that was just the tip of this iceberg of a bad mood.

Perhaps Lucky was right. He did need to start dating again, especially since even a seventy-hour workweek wasn't enough to keep his mind off things it shouldn't be on.

Like Spenser O'Malley.

Even though Logan wanted to know what had gone on between Reese and the man, he hadn't asked the private investigator to dig any deeper. Heck, Logan hadn't even done an internet check on the guy's name. It hadn't been easy to hold himself back. Logan preferred to know anything and everything about people who came into his life, but it'd been obvious that the topic was off-limits for Reese.

And for once, he had respected that.

Still, that didn't mean he could stop himself from speculating. The guy had obviously hit her, maybe even done something worse to her. But then Reese must have done something to him, too, to get that juvie record. It was probably a good thing she wasn't around to tell him because Logan wasn't sure he wanted to hear about it.

“Uh, you probably need to soften your expression a little,” the photographer told him. “We've already got enough resting-bitch-face shots.”

Logan didn't ease up on his scowl. In fact, he made it even worse so he could let the photographer know he wasn't pleased with that remark. Men didn't have bitch faces. Asshole faces, maybe.

“Why don't you just get your brother to do these photo shoots?” the photographer asked, clicking off some more pictures. “I photographed him at a rodeo last week, and he seemed to like it.”

It wasn't the photo session but rather the bull riding that had probably made it enjoyable for Lucky. But the guy had a point. There were some benefits to having an identical twin, and this could be one of them. But he was still walking a fine line when it came to his brothers finally working in the family business. Logan had run the company for a long time, and it was hard for him to give up control. Hard, too, for his brothers to accept him as their boss.

“Resting bitch face again,” the photographer grumbled.

Logan gave him a look that could have frozen hell, and the guy must have gotten the message that this was not a good day for a photo shoot. “Maybe we can try this again next week,” he said, gathering up his equipment.

Logan didn't stop him, though it would have been easier just to finish this now. The guy left, and Greg came right in and put a small brown paper bag on Logan's desk.

“I popped over to the café and got one of those lemon thingies,” Greg said. “Thought you'd like one, too. It's right out of the oven.”

Logan glanced in the bag. It didn't look like something that'd caused such a fuss. Then he took a bite, and his taste buds applauded.

Yeah, it was worth a fuss, all right.

“I guess Reese left the recipe with Bert?” Logan asked.

“Nope. Reese baked these herself.” And with that bombshell, Greg was halfway out the door.

“Reese baked it?”

Greg stopped, stared at him as if that were a trick question. “I thought you'd heard by now. She didn't leave town, after all. She's staying a while longer so she can do Mia's birthday party.”

Logan cursed the flip-flop feeling he got in his stomach and hoped it was from the lemon thingy and not because Reese was still around.

Greg kept staring at him. “Say, you're not going to try to run her out of town again, are you?”

He was about to blast Greg for that, but then Logan had to mentally shrug. He had indeed nearly run her out of town. It hadn't worked, though. Even after she'd spelled it out that if she stayed they'd end up in bed together.

Which they would.

Logan only wondered if it was too soon for them to do just that. Yeah, it was stupid. He needed to stay away from her, but since that clearly wasn't going to happen, he might as well find out what it would be like to be with her when he was sober.

He checked the time. Reese's breakfast shift should be over in ten minutes so he grabbed his cowboy hat and headed for the door. He didn't make it far. Logan got another whiff of lemon, and Jason came in, stuffing his face with one of Reese's tasty pastries.

“Hey, did you hear?” Jason asked. “Reese didn't leave town, after all.”

“I heard.”

And apparently Jason had not only heard the news, he'd paid her a visit since he was chowing down on the lemon thingy. That visit had no doubt been to ask her out again. Even though this was going to sound like he was calling dibs or marking his territory, Logan figured it was time for his friend to hear the truth. There were man-rules about this sort of thing, and Logan had gotten to Reese first. That meant she was hands-off for Jason.

First, though, Logan shut the door. There was no reason for Greg to hear his dibs-calling. “The night after my botched proposal to Helene, I went to a hotel in San Antonio, met Reese and slept with her,” Logan told his old friend.

Jason stopped chewing, his jaw frozen in a twisted angle. Then he laughed. Really, really laughed. “Right. Like you'd go for someone like Reese.”

Logan huffed. “It happened.”

Jason finally quit laughing and swallowed the rest of the pastry. “Oh, I get it. You were drunk.”

“Drunk-ish.” Which, of course, sounded stupid. Yeah, he was drunk, but judging from Jason's tone, he was about to dismiss it as something that wouldn't violate a man-rule of a guy going after a woman who'd been his drunk best friend's lover.

Jason kept staring, perhaps processing that, and he shook his head. “I just don't see you two having a one-nighter.
Any
nighter for that matter. So, are you the reason she came to town?”

“Only in a roundabout way. She gave me something and wanted it back.”

More staring, more processing. “You didn't knock her up or anything, did you?”

“No. I used a condom.” Several of them, in fact, but there was no reason to share that with Jason.

Jason made a sound of amusement. “Well, I gotta say, I didn't expect this. But obviously you haven't picked up where you two left off.” He paused. “Have you?”

“No,” Logan repeated after a pause of his own.

“Where do you see things going with Reese?” Jason came out and asked.

It was a good question. Logan didn't have a remotely good answer. It would sound shallow for him to say he was only interested in having sex with her, especially when he was still concerned that with her family history she could tarnish the reputation of the company.

“I'm not sure,” Logan admitted. “But Reese doesn't tend to stay in one place for long. Six months at most so I suspect in a couple of months, or even sooner, she'll be leaving for greener pastures.”

Logan couldn't blame her. It wasn't as if he could offer her anything but sex. Hardly an offer that would tempt a woman like Reese to stay put. As attractive as she was, she wouldn't have any trouble finding another guy to sleep with. One who wasn't accusing her of running a con.

“Until she leaves for those greener pastures, is she hands-off for me?” Jason asked.

“Yes,” Logan said without hesitation. It was hard enough being around Reese, but it would be very unpleasant to see her with his best friend.

“All right.” Jason bobbed his head. “I guess this means you're finally getting over Helene. You
are
getting over her, right?”

Logan nodded. It wasn't a lie, either. He was getting over her. He wasn't there yet, though, but this thing with Reese didn't have anything to do with what he'd felt for Helene. It had to do with trust. He just didn't want to put his heart out there for another stomping.

There was a knock at the door, and a second later, Greg opened it and stuck his head in. “Logan, you have a visitor.”

“I need to be going, anyway,” Jason said, checking the time. “I'll see you at Lucky and Cassie's engagement party next month.”

This was the first Logan was hearing of a party, a reminder he needed to get his head out of the clouds and keep better tabs on what was happening in his own family.

“Who's the visitor?” Logan asked Greg after Jason was gone.

“A woman. She says she's a friend of Reese's.”

Logan hadn't meant to groan, but he hoped this wasn't another “friend” like Chucky. “Show her in,” Logan said.

He wasn't sure what to expect, but at least the woman who came through the door didn't look like a con artist or a rooster. She was in her twenties, tall and looked like a model. Logan figured if Jason had gotten a glimpse of her, then he'd be hanging around for a while longer.

“I'm Jimena Martinelli,” the woman said, “the closest thing Reese has to a sister, and I'm here to warn you that if you're dicking around with her, I will cut off that dick and roast it in a fire pit.”

Okay, maybe not as normal as he'd originally thought. Logan hoped this woman's idea of dicking around didn't mean just sex.

“Is there something specific I can do for you?” he asked. “Something that doesn't involve my dick?”

“Yeah, you can stop treating Reese like she's a gold-digging slut. She's not.” Jimena folded her arms over her ample chest. “The only reason she slept with you was to tick off a box on her bucket list.”

Logan nodded. “She told me.”

Jimena seemed a little surprised that he knew about the list. “Did she also tell you that she really liked you?”

Now Logan was the one who no doubt looked surprised. “No. But then she hardly knows me.”

“Right.” Said with all the sarcasm one word could have.

Apparently, Jimena thought a night of sex equaled getting to know someone. And in some ways it did. But there was still plenty Logan didn't know about Reese.

“I just want you to understand that Reese isn't as tough as she looks,” Jimena went on. “You were the first man she slept with in nearly two years.”

Again, Logan was sure he looked surprised. But then he remembered that might not even be true. Maybe this was Jimena's weird attempt at matchmaking.

“I have several things I need to do,” Logan tossed out there. Including a chat with Reese to find out why she'd decided to stay in town, after all. “Was there anything else?”

Figuring there wasn't, Logan took out his phone so he could make some calls on his walk to the café. But Jimena didn't budge. She also didn't look as much in a dick-roasting mood as she had when she'd first come into the office.

“Was there anything else?” he repeated, sounding as impatient as he suddenly was.

“Uh, I heard about your ex. About you walking in on her with another man. A man who was dressed like a clown.”