Blame It on the Cowboy (12 page)

There, that was the plan.

But the plan went a little south when Logan went into the ranch house and saw Reese there in the family room. She was on a stepladder, putting up twinkling lights for Mia's birthday party, and she turned, her gaze connecting with his.

And he forgot how to breathe.

Hell. Now his lungs had gotten in on this stupid attraction.

He could hear chatter in the kitchen. Della, Stella, Cassie. And there were kids running around in the backyard, but Logan's eyes froze on Reese.

“You made it,” Reese said as if his arrival were nothing short of a miracle.

In a way it was. Logan had had three days of intense meetings, interviews and the makeup photo shoot, and what he should be doing was heading to the office to clear out what would no doubt be a mountain of work on his desk. But Mia had sent him a personal invitation to her fifth birthday party, and while he often declined personal invites, Logan hadn't declined this one.

He would put in an appearance, and since the party wasn't due to actually start for another half hour, he figured he could also see Reese and the rest of his family. A way of killing three birds with one appearance.

Reese was smiling when she went to him, and she leaned in as if to kiss him. But no kiss. Just a whisper. “Everyone thinks I'm pregnant.”

He wasn't surprised the gossip made it to her. The café was usually a hotbed for that sort of thing, but he heard just as much worry and concern in her voice as there was in Logan's head.

“I'm thinking about smoking a cigarette or drinking a shot of tequila in front of them,” she added. “Maybe talk about skydiving or some other sport that a pregnant woman wouldn't do.”

“It won't help.” Then the gossip would be about what a reckless pregnant woman Reese was. “The talk will die down as long as you don't go see the doctor for any reason or if you don't gain weight.”

Her eyes widened enough for him to know that those simple instructions were a problem. “I'm guessing that look doesn't have anything to do with any weight gain you might be considering?”

She shook her head. “I went with Cassie to the doctor in San Antonio. Lucky was tied up in a meeting, and Cassie said she wanted to discuss the engagement party on the drive. Cassie didn't tell anyone about what doctor she was seeing or why, not even me, but then she had a script filled at the pharmacy.”

Logan picked through that explanation and realized his soon to be sister-in-law was pregnant. For once, he was hearing something ahead of the gossip.

“Prenatal vitamins?” Logan asked.

Reese winced. Groaned. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything.”

It stung that the news hadn't come from his brother or Cassie, but things had been plenty hectic lately. Soon though, he hoped Lucky would come to him with the announcement.

“I don't think Cassie planned to tell me,” Reese went on. “It was hard not to know, though, when I saw the script. It was written out to Cassie, but apparently everyone thinks she was getting the vitamins for me. But Cassie and Lucky didn't want anyone to know until after Mia's party. They don't want to steal any of the limelight.”

Logan was betting if anyone in town suspected that Cassie was pregnant, then the news wouldn't have made it yet to the girls. And even if it did, Mia was such a sweet kid that she wouldn't mind sharing the limelight.

“Lucky knows, though, right?” he pressed.

Another nod. “So do Della and Stella. They guessed because Cassie's been having some morning sickness—apparently whenever she smells coffee or bacon. Lucky and Cassie want to tell Riley and Claire after the party.”

And speaking of the party, the room looked great. Very girlie fairy-tale-ish with the lights and the sparkly decorations. Reese had moved a table into the room, and it was filled with all sorts of kid goodies, including a large pink birthday cake.

“How did the meetings go?” she asked.

“They're done.” And that was the best thing he could say about them. Logan had been distracted through most of the past three days.

“I talked to Jimena,” Reese said. “She won't be threatening you again. And there's been no sign of Chucky.” Another pause. “I also talked to Elrond.”

“That was on my to-do list.”

“I figured it was.” And judging from the way she glanced away from him, that didn't please her. Well, talking to the clown who'd screwed his ex probably wouldn't please him, either, but Logan had felt it was necessary.

“Elrond said Helene gave him the porcelain breast, but he insists that he didn't have sex with her.”

“He's lying,” Logan snapped. “At least about the porcelain breast. Helene had two of them made for me. Bookends,” he clarified, “and she told me that one of them went missing before she could give me the pair. Elrond probably stole it.”

Maybe it was his suddenly pissed-off tone, but Reese no longer looked so happy to see him. “It's important for you to find out the truth,” she said. Not a question. But Logan wondered if it should be.

Was it important?

Hell, yes. But he had no idea what to do with the information once he had it. Clearly, the clown hadn't taken advantage of Helene. Logan had walked in on her at the tail end of an orgasm so this wasn't a situation where he was trying to defend Helene's honor. Or would make sure he got the guy arrested.

So, what was it?

Logan figured it was something he didn't want to examine too closely, and he put it in the guy-thing category. His brother Riley had all kinds of man-rules for situations like these so Logan's new man-rule was that he intended to confront the Bozo who'd contributed to bashing his life to smithereens.

Reese touched his arm to get his attention. “Do you still love her?”

Now, that was a question he seemed to be having to answer a lot lately. “No.” And since it wasn't something he wanted to talk about, Logan went with something he did want to say. “I think we should have sex.”

She blinked. Obviously, that didn't come out as smoothly as he'd planned.

“Now?” she joked.

Those stupid parts of him wanted to jump at the chance, but Logan figured he had to at least try to act like an adult and not a teenager. “Tomorrow night around eight?”

Reese certainly didn't jump at the invitation.

“I could serve Cheetos and Milk Duds,” he joked, too. Except it wasn't just a joke. Logan wanted her to say yes, and he'd obviously botched this.

“Jimena told you about my snack favorites.”

He nodded. “She also said you carried a really sharp knife in your backpack.”

That got the reaction he wanted. Reese smiled. “Two of them. I'll see you tomorrow night.”

However, she didn't get a chance to add more because Della, Stella and Cassie had joined them. Logan got hugs from all three women, and it was from over Cassie's shoulder that he saw Claire, who was standing back from the rest.

“Could you help me with something?” Claire asked.

Logan went to her, but he hoped he didn't have to do anything that required decorating skills. But it wasn't decorating stuff. The moment he made it to Claire, she took hold of his arm. “You think we could maybe go to the sunroom for a chat?”

Uh-oh. She'd heard the rumors about Reese being pregnant. Or maybe she'd guessed about Cassie and wanted him to confirm it.

With Claire's fairly tight grip on his arm, they went into the sunroom on the far side of the house. Away from the playing kids. Away from anything remotely resembling a party. When she stumbled, Logan caught onto her.

“Sheez, are you all right?” He had her sit on the sofa, and he went to the wet bar to get her a bottle of water.

Claire mumbled a thanks, sipped some of the water and looked at him. “What I'm about to tell you stays between us. Sorry to dump this on you,” Claire added, “but I thought I was about to pass out. If I'd told Della or Stella that, they would have guessed right off.”

“Guess what?” he asked, clueless.

Claire clued him in. “I haven't done the pee stick yet, but I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant.”

Oh.

Apparently, he was the only male in the McCord family who hadn't knocked up somebody.

And for some reason, that made Logan feel like shit.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Y
OU
'
RE
SURE
ABOUT
THIS
?”
Jimena asked Reese.

Reese looked at herself in the mirror. “Sure about which part?”

Because there were a lot of cogs going right now. Her dress, her shoes, her makeup. The perfume she'd borrowed from Jimena. And, of course, the biggest cog was the reason she was doing all these things.

For Logan.

The new-to-her dress was one that Reese had bought at Lookie Here. It was sunshine yellow, perhaps not exactly her color with her hair, but it'd been one of the few dresses in her size. Reese had been afraid to ask for a larger size for fear it would keep the pregnancy rumors going.

“The sex-date part,” Jimena answered after she washed down a mouthful of the scone she was eating.

There was no easy answer for this. No, Reese wasn't sure about it, but yes, she was going to do it, anyway.

It would probably be a huge mistake, something she'd spent her adulthood trying to avoid, and this one had more pitfalls than most. Logan was looking for an affair. That was it. And he'd never tried to make her believe otherwise. Considering their relationship had started with a one-night stand, though, what did Reese expect?

“Whose idea was this, anyway?” Jimena pressed.

“Mine,” she lied. It would save time on this conversation. Jimena was worried about her, that was obvious, but her friend would only worry more if she knew Logan had been the one to set this up.

Jimena didn't call her on that lie, but she did stare at Reese from over the top of her diet soda. “Are you even sure he's over his ex?”

“He is.” Another lie. If he were over Helene, then why was Logan so insistent on speaking to Elrond? Of course, she wouldn't mention that to Jimena.

“If Logan's over his ex, then why does he want to talk to Elrond?” Jimena added.

Apparently, the woman's telepathic skills were working well tonight because she took that question right out of Reese's head.

“Wouldn't you want to talk to the person if they'd broken up a long-term relationship on the very night you'd planned on proposing?” Reese argued.

Jimena just looked confused. Probably because she couldn't wrap her mind around the long-term relationship part. Jimena didn't stick with men. For her, a week was plenty enough.

Reese checked her hair one last time and hated that she was fussing with it. Hated that she was fussing, period. She hadn't actually had a date in high school, but she remembered the nervous excitement from the girls when they'd talked about dates and such. It'd seemed vain and frivolous to Reese, especially since she was working full-time by then, and yet here she was doing it herself.

Enough.

“You can stay the night if you like,” Reese offered.

Jimena shook her head. “I've got a dinner date.”

Since the woman had just consumed several pounds of junk food, Reese wasn't sure where she'd put dinner, but she wished Jimena a good night, grabbed her purse and the pie that she'd baked and headed out. It was already dark, but as Reese always did, she stuck to the back street. Old habits. In her youthful con days, it was a way of keeping out of sight, of making herself as invisible as possible.

Tonight, it was so no one would see her going to Logan's.

Of course, the gossips assumed Logan and she were already carrying on a hot affair, but Reese was still mindful of Logan's reputation. Spring Hill wasn't exactly a prudish place, but she was certain the members of the old guard—i.e., those who wanted Logan back with Helene—wouldn't care much for her spending time beneath the sheets with their golden boy.

She spotted Logan's truck as soon as the parking lot came into view, and Reese released the breath she'd been holding. Part of her had worried that he would come to his senses and cancel. Or forget.

Reese went to the back door and was about to test the knob when she glanced in Logan's truck and saw someone. Since the windshield was heavily tinted, she couldn't be sure, but her first thought was that someone had broken into it. She was about to call out for Logan when she realized the person inside
was
Logan.

And something was wrong.

He wasn't just sitting. He had slumped forward, his forehead leaning against the steering wheel.

Reese's heart jumped to her throat because he didn't look as if he were merely in deep thought. He wasn't. The moment she tapped on the window and he lifted his head, she saw the pain etched all over his face. She threw open the door, and he practically tumbled into her arms.

“Migraine,” he managed to say.

She would have been relieved that it wasn't something more serious, but she knew about migraines and how bad they could be. Her grandfather had suffered from them.

“Let me get you inside,” she said, trying to keep her voice at a whisper. Logan winced and grunted in pain with each little movement of his head.

She got him to the back door. It was locked. Damn. That meant she had to lean him against the building and go back for his keys. They were still in the ignition. Then she had to figure out which one, all while Logan stood there suffering.

It seemed to take an eternity, and her hands were shaking now, but Reese finally got him into the building. No sign of Greg. Too bad. Because the assistant could have helped with getting Logan upstairs.

“I can walk on my own,” Logan said. Each word seemed an effort. “It's okay. You can go now.”

Not a chance. Reese didn't argue with him about it, either. She merely hooked her arm around his waist and got him moving. Step by step. There were suddenly a gazillion of them, and both Logan and she had broken out in a sweat by the time she reached his loft.

The brown sofa was gone so she led him to the bed. He eased down onto the mattress and pulled a pillow over his head.

“Meds,” he mumbled.

Reese hurried to the bathroom, threw open the medicine cabinet and spotted the prescription bottle of pain pills. Plus, some lavender oil. She grabbed both and a glass of water.

“Don't tell anyone about this,” Logan said when she gave him the pills.

“I won't. I'll tell them we had sex instead.”

He managed a smile. A very short-lived one that told her how much pain he was in. She put some of the lavender oil on her fingertips and began to massage his forehead, temples and the back of his neck.

“You've done this before,” he whispered.

“Yes, for my grandfather. Peppermint oil helps sometimes, too.” Though she also knew that sometimes nothing at all helped. Still, the pain didn't seem to be getting worse.

“The grandfather who gave you the watch?”

She nodded. “I lived with him on and off.”

“Keep talking,” Logan said.

Reese did. She kept massaging his head, too. “He was the night manager of a pizza place so we ate lots and lots of pizza—especially the ones they couldn't sell or the ones customers didn't pick up. I think it set me on my course of the love of junk food.”

“Were your parents there, too?”

“On and off,” she repeated. “When I was about ten, I think they got fed up and left me with him for good.” Or so she'd thought at the time. “Then he got sick and died two years later.”

Even though she knew it had to be painful for him, Logan opened his eyes, met her gaze. “I'm sorry.”

Yes, so was she. Losing him had crushed her heart. Still did.

“For a long time I blamed myself for his death,” Reese said before she even knew she was going to say it. And she was instantly sorry. Logan looked at her as if waiting for more.

Reese wasn't even sure she'd ever said this aloud, but she had certainly thought it plenty of times. “When I was living with him, my grandfather started working extra hours to pay for my school things and clothes. I think that's why he didn't go to the doctor right away when he started having symptoms.”

Maybe with all the pain, Logan wouldn't even remember her telling him this. It was bad enough that he thought she was beneath him, but now he would know that she had the dreaded emotional baggage. Just what no man wanted to hear.

“Keep talking,” he repeated.

She had to pause and take a deep breath. Had to pause again to think about how to say what she wanted to say. Best just to get it out there, and hope that Logan didn't remember.

“He died of lung cancer. I watched him waste away, and that's one of the reasons my misdiagnosis scared me. I didn't want to die that way. Now, see? Aren't you sorry you asked? You should have asked me for recipes or something that didn't involve picking at these old scabs.”

“We all have scabs.” Logan stayed quiet for several long moments. “I should have been able to save my parents, but I didn't.”

Judging from the way he suddenly got so stiff, she was guessing that wasn't something he'd expected to share. However, it was something she'd already heard about.

Gossip, again.

But in this case the gossip seemed to be reliable since it had come from Bert. Logan's parents had died in a head-on collision when he'd been nineteen, and Logan had been the first to arrive shortly after the crash.

“They died at the scene,” Reese reminded him, though she was certain he needed no such reminder. “I don't think anyone could have saved them.”

He didn't agree. Logan only closed his eyes, and he didn't open them until she stopped massaging his temples. “Thanks, but you really don't have to stay.”

She could see him already shutting down, already regretting that he'd let her have a little glimpse of what was in his head. “It's okay. I don't have anything else to do.” Reese wiped her hands, took off his boots and pulled the covers over him.

“You're being nice to me because I'm in pain. I don't like that.”

“Would you rather I yell at you?” she joked.

“Only if you whisper when you do it.” His voice was groggy now, which meant the pain meds were knocking him out. Maybe they would knock out the pain, too. “Will you ever tell me about Spenser O'Malley?”

Obviously, though, the pain meds weren't erasing the things on his mind. “One day.” Maybe. Probably not, though.

That wasn't just baggage but rather a mountain of it.

“Is he the reason you're scared of getting involved with me?” he asked.

Definitely not an easy question, and Reese only answered him because she was certain Logan wouldn't remember any of this. “No. I'm scared for other reasons.”

She was scared he'd break her heart. And he would. Reese didn't have any doubts about that.

* * *

T
HE
SMELL
OF
coffee woke Logan. Not easily, though. Despite the enticing scent, he practically had to pry open his eyelids. That was thanks to the effects of the pain meds. They'd knocked him out cold, had gotten him through the migraine, but he would pay for the relief for the rest of the day.

It felt as if a bug bomb had gone off in his head.

He finally got his eyes open and came fully awake when he saw how close the coffee cup was to his face. How close Reese was, too. She was standing right over him. A surprise. He'd thought for certain she would leave after he fell asleep. Just because they'd had a one-night stand didn't mean she was obligated to play nursemaid.

Hell. He hoped he hadn't said anything stupid to her, but he did remember a garbled conversation about his parents. Some things she'd told him about her grandfather, too.

Had she mentioned that guy Spenser?

If she had, Logan hoped he remembered what she'd said. From what he could sense, the man from her past was an emotional land mine that he should probably avoid.

“I was going to let you sleep,” Reese said. “But Greg slipped a note under your door to remind you about an important meeting you have this morning. The meeting's in thirty minutes, and I didn't think you'd want to miss it.”

“I don't,” he assured her.

Logan groaned. It was a meeting he had to take, too, because he'd already rescheduled it twice. A third cancellation could create some ill feelings between him and a seller he needed.

Since Greg usually texted that sort of reminder, it probably meant his assistant realized Logan wasn't alone. Or maybe someone had seen Reese helping him into the building the night before and spread the word. Logan had never told Greg that he had migraines, but the man had no doubt figured it out.

Logan forced himself to a sitting position, took the coffee and gulped as much as he could without burning his mouth. He prayed the caffeine would kick in soon and maybe rid him of the rest of the pain. It wasn't bad now. Just little pinging reminders that he didn't need. Especially because Greg had been right—this meeting was important.

“I didn't open the blinds,” Reese said. “It's pretty sunny out there already.”

“Thanks.” The blinds would stay closed. Ditto for the lights being off. He'd have to ease into the whole light thing unless he wanted the headache to return.

“If you want to grab a shower, I can fix you some breakfast,” Reese offered.

She was still being nice to him, and he would have told her to knock it off, but breakfast did sound good. He wasn't even sure the last time he'd eaten, but his stomach was growling.

“Don't you have the breakfast shift at the café?” he asked.

“Not this morning. I can stay a little while longer. If you want, that is.”

He did want that. More than he should. And it wasn't all food related, either. Despite what had been a lousy night for both of them, Reese somehow managed to look amazing. Jason had said she was attractive in an unmade-bed sort of way, and while Logan didn't agree with that, looking at her did remind him of bed.

And sex.