Blame It on the Cowboy (9 page)

“What the hell's going on here?” Logan demanded.

“This brainless wonder shoved Reese,” Gemma explained. “I saw it with my own eye.” Gemma hadn't mistakenly omitted the plural. She really did only have one eye, and she wore a patch on the other one.

Judging from Logan's reaction, he'd seen it, too. With both of his eyes. Probably because he'd been looking at her from his window.

Reese doubted that window-looking had anything to do with the kissing, either. No. He was making sure she wasn't stirring up trouble, and here trouble was being stirred up right in front of them.

“I'm calling the cops,” Gemma said, turning to go back inside.

“Thanks, but I can handle this,” Reese assured her. Possibly a lie.

Probably
a lie, she silently amended.

Reese could handle Chucky, all right. That metaphorical three-year-old with a laptop could handle him, but the old memories were washing over her like acid. Plus, there was the new layer added to this. The mess that Chucky would start slinging that would make her not want to handle it. Because this was exactly the sort of thing Logan had been sure she would bring into his life.

“You want to tell me what's going on here?” Logan asked.

Not particularly, but Reese doubted he was just going to walk away. Neither would Chucky, once he could walk, that is. He was still wheezing and holding his bruised nuts as if they were Fabergé eggs.

“This is Chucky Dayton,” Reese explained. “My parents conned him, and now Chucky likes to find me and try to intimidate me. In turn, I end up kicking him in the balls.”

Logan didn't roll his eyes exactly, but it was close. And he did groan. It had an “I knew it!” ring to it.

“I do intimidate her,” Chucky said. Not easily but he got the words out, and his voice was even more high-pitched than usual. “She always runs from me.”

“I always move,” Reese corrected. “But then I move for all sorts of reasons.” The bottom line was that she moved, period, and it rarely had anything to do with Chucky.

She would in this case, though.

“I'm not gonna let Reese get away with this,” Chucky snapped. “She kneed me in the privates.”

“Because you pushed her against the wall,” Logan snapped right back.

So, he'd definitely seen that, and it had probably looked worse than it was, but repeating the analogy again, Chucky had the strength of a three-year-old.

Logan took a step closer to Chucky. He didn't get in his face. Didn't have to. In fact, he didn't even have to take that step to look intimidating. Simply put, Logan did not look like a friendly sort.

“If you don't leave town,” Logan told Chucky, the muscles in his face squirming against each other, “I'll have you arrested.”

“And who do you think you are?” Chucky fired back.

“Logan McCord.”

It wasn't just the name. It was the way he said it. His tone, narrowed eyes and glare were about a thousand steps past the unfriendly stage.

But apparently the name meant something to Chucky, too. Of course, he would have had to be blind and deaf not to know that the McCords were the big guns in this little-gun town. However, it wasn't just fear that crept into Chucky's chicken eyes. It was greed. It was possible he saw Logan as a source for recouping his money.

Damn.

Chucky wasn't dangerous, but he was persistent and annoying, and he would peck away at her by using Logan. And it wouldn't take much. Just dropping the truth about her parents, and that truth would spread like wildfire. It would hurt Logan's good name just because he was standing here protecting her.

Maybe it was Logan's glare, but Chucky finally turned and hobbled away. Reese wished it was the last she'd see of him, but she knew it wouldn't be.

“I'll leave town this afternoon,” she said to Logan. “After I finish the lunch shift.”

Logan turned that glare on her, and while it did soften just a smidge, it still let her know that he was not happy about this situation. “You're shaking,” he pointed out.

“Nerves.” Not a lie. Every nerve in her body was just beneath her skin and was zinging.

“He scared you,” Logan added.

It was something a normal person said in situations like this. Perhaps meant to give her some kind of comfort, but it sounded as if there was something more to it.

God, did Logan know?

“I need to get to work,” Reese insisted. “My shift starts in a half hour.”

That was plenty enough time before the café opened at eleven for lunch. Besides, Reese had finished most of the prep after the breakfast shift when she'd clocked out at nine-thirty. The break in between the shifts had given her just enough time to go home and fix herself a bite to eat. Something Reese wished she hadn't done because she could have avoided a Main Street showdown/nut-kicking with Chucky.

Reese started in the direction of the café, fully expecting Logan to follow her. And he did.

“Chucky will be back?” he asked.

She nodded. “But not before he spreads every rumor that he can think to spread. Thankfully, Chucky's not very smart so he might not think to connect the two of us to make the dirt seem dirtier.”

Logan stayed quiet a moment. “There's no way he could know about what happened in San Antonio?”

“No. If he had known, he would have blurted it out when you told him who you were. Chucky's not big on keeping secrets. But he probably has heard you and your family have money. That's why I'll leave. When I go, he'll go, too. I'm sorry, though, that you might have to do some damage control.”

She wasn't sure what to make of the sound that Logan made or the fact that he followed her all the way to the café. Maybe because he thought Chucky might return for another pushing match.

Or maybe because he wanted to confront her about something else he'd learned about her ugly past.

Reese unlocked the café door and went in. When Logan continued to follow her inside, she steeled herself up for the lecture he was no doubt about to give her. Since that would put her in an even worse mood, she went into the kitchen and washed up so she could put the scones in the oven.

Or rather, biscuits.

Bert had assured her that no one would order a scone, but that everyone in town would want to sample a biscuit even if it had berries, cream or other stuff in it.

He'd been right.

“So, are those the lemon thingies everyone's talking about?” Logan asked.

Reese blinked. She hadn't expected that to be part of the lecture or confrontation. “No. These are butterscotch. I do the lemon ones every other day. If you want, I'll send Della the recipe so she can make some for you.”

He mumbled a thanks, watched as she started some dough for the next batch of scones.

“Baking calms my nerves,” she explained. “If you were to ever come in and see the counters filled with cakes, pies, scones and cookies, you'll know I've had a bad day.”

She meant it as a joke, but her tone must have let Logan know it was too close to the truth. He kept watching, and when Reese could take no more, she whirled around to face him.

“Go ahead,” she demanded. “Tell me what a piece of scum I am and that I should stay out of your life and your town.” Reese hoped that was all he would tell her, though.

“It seems to me that the scum in this scenario is your parents. Did you help them con Chucky?”

“Of course not.” She hadn't helped them since she was a child and didn't know any better. But at least Logan had asked. Most people just assumed she was guilty because of her gene pool.

“Then there's no need for a lecture. Not in this scenario,” he added.

“No, but my lack of guilt won't stop Chucky from blabbing. My advice is just to ignore the gossip he stirs up. It'll go away pretty fast after I leave today.”

She hoped. But then again, folks were still gossiping about Logan, Helene and the clown.

“You're really leaving?” he asked.

“Yes.” Reese didn't have to think about that. It was the only way to get Chucky to budge. The only way she could outrun the memories.

Logan nodded. “I imagine you'll have to work things out with Bert. You might not be able to do that today. He's at a doctor's visit with Maggie in San Antonio. They probably won't be back until late.”

True. “I can leave in the morning, then.”

Another nod. He checked his watch. Checked the windows behind them. Basically, he was doing something she'd never seen Logan do.

Fidgeting.

“You're doing the dinner shift, too?” he asked.

“No. Sissy Lee's brother's doing it.”

A third nod. “All right. I've got to leave for a meeting, but come by my place tonight around eight, and I'll give you the watch.”

It was her turn to nod and mumble a thanks. A mumble because she was shocked that Logan was going to carry through on his promise to return it.

Logan didn't say anything else. He just turned and walked out. But he didn't have to say anything for Reese to know what this meant.

He'd essentially just told her not to let the door hit her butt on her way out. But that was better than the alternative. Logan could have said something worse to her. Much worse.

Logan could have told her that he knew all about Spenser O'Malley. And what Spenser had done to her.

And what Reese had done to him.

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
HE
GOSSIP
WAS
waiting for Logan when he got back to town after his meeting. And so was the person who'd started the gossip.

Chucky.

The weasel was in Logan's office, and he was leaning back in the chair, hands tucked behind his head as if he were lounging.

Apparently, Greg had found Chucky, invited him in for a chat and made Chucky feel right at home—exactly as Logan had instructed his assistant to do. But judging from Greg's raised eyebrows and under-the-breath mumbles, he didn't think Chucky was worthy of the kid-glove treatment.

“It's about time you got here,” Chucky snapped the moment Logan walked in. “When you send for a man to come and see you, you oughta be here to see him. Especially when you send a girlie man to fetch me. Why you got that prissy pants working for you, anyway?”

Logan didn't respond. Didn't care a rat's ass about how long Chucky had had to wait, but he did care about this tool insulting Greg. Keeping that to himself for the moment, Logan went to the side of the room, to the panels that concealed a bar, and poured himself a drink. He sipped it slowly while Chucky cleared his throat.

“I'll take one of those,” Chucky demanded.

Logan ignored that, too. “Tell me about this con Reese's parents supposedly pulled on you.”

“It's not supposedly.” But Chucky pronounced it
supbossedly
. “They did it. They got me to invest in some land deal that didn't exist. They took me for twenty grand.”

“Funny, the police report you filled out said it was five grand. If you want to look at that report to refresh your memory, I can have Greg bring it in.”

Chucky didn't seem especially bothered that he'd just been caught in a lie. “It started out as five grand, but I'm adding interest. And payment for my pain and suffering.”

“If you're interested in payment, why not go to the source—to Reese's mother?”

Now he was bothered. “Can't find her or I would. I caught up with her mother a few years back, but she gave me the slip. Her mother is scum, and that scum's rubbed off on Reese. She might claim she's all innocent, but she's not.”

The jury was still out on that.

“You've been spreading lies about me,” Logan tossed out there after he'd finished his drink.

“Not lies. The truth. I saw the way you came running to defend Reese. My guess is you're doodling her.”

Logan figured that was a euphemism for fucking her. He wasn't, but since he had at one time, he didn't deny it. “The lie you told said Reese is running a con on me, and that I'm paying her off so she'll stay quiet.”

“So?” said with the arrogance of an idiot who didn't know who he was dealing with.

“So, it's a lie,” Logan answered. “The con is on you.”

Chucky gave him a blank stare. “Huh?”

“I wanted you arrested and put behind bars in a town that my ancestors built. The police chief is a good friend. In fact, just about everybody in Spring Hill is either a good friend or works for me. I've been waiting for a reason to have you locked up, and you gave it to me today when you pushed Reese.”

“What?” Chucky howled, and jumped to his feet. “She kneed me in my privates.”

“Only after you assaulted her. I saw it. So did eleven other people. They're all willing to testify against you.”

Chucky sputtered out a few syllables. “But she owes me money. Money that either Reese—or you—is going to pay.”

Logan tried to rein in his temper. Sometimes, he could put his temper to good use, but there wasn't any reason to bring out the big guns when dealing with a little moron. “No, her mother owes you the money, and neither Reese nor I will pay you a penny.”

While Chucky continued to sputter and howl, Logan went closer to him. Too close. He could smell the onions and beer on the guy's breath.

“Here's how this works. I give you a fifteen-minute head start,” Logan said, using his low and dangerous voice, “and as long as you leave town and never see or speak to Reese again, I won't have the police chief arrest you.”

“You can't do that. Go ahead. Have him arrest me. I'll make bail and be out in a New York minute.”

Logan shook his head. “My town. My rules. You'll be lucky if you're out by Christmas.”

It was a bluff. It was his town, all right, but Logan had never called in favors like that. So, he added something that wasn't a bluff.

“If you don't leave and if you ever call my assistant prissy pants again, I will destroy you.” Since that wasn't a bluff, Logan had no trouble giving Chucky the glare that went along with it.

The man backed away from Logan, and even though Logan couldn't see them, he could practically hear the guy's bruised balls shriveling. He went out in the hall. “I guess you're not worried about Reese getting violent again?” Chucky asked.

Logan tried not to look surprised by that question, but he must have failed because he saw the gleam of victory in Chucky's eyes.

“Reese didn't tell you, huh?” Chucky chuckled. “You should sleep with one eye open when you're around her. And if you don't believe me, just ask her about Spenser O'Malley.”

* * *

R
EESE
WAS
ALL
packed up. Not that it was a big deal since all of her belongings fit into the backpack. She'd added a few things during her stay in Spring Hill. She did in most places. In this case she'd bought an old bronze key from the Lookie Here Thrift Shop. It was a silly purchase, but since the initial
R
had been on it, Reese had thought it was some kind of sign.

Perhaps just a sign for her to part with the eight dollars and twenty-five cents it had cost her, but it was something small enough she could carry with her as a reminder of her time in Spring Hill. Of course she'd left enough space for the watch.

She glanced around the room where she'd been staying. Not home exactly, but it had felt better than most places. In fact, it had started to feel, well, good, until Chucky had shown up. She'd told Logan about her con artist parents, but it was another thing for him to get a dose of what that meant.

In this case—gossip. And lots of it.

According to Sissy Lee, nobody believed the gossip about Reese being there to con Logan, but the buzz was going strong, and with each new buzzing, Logan's reputation and business could be hurt. And here he was finally recovering from the ordeal with Helene.

There was fresh gossip about that, as well.

Gossip about a crew that spent most of the afternoon cleaning out Logan's loft and bringing in new furniture. Reese figured after what she'd seen there, that change was good.

She went out the back exit of the Bluebonnet Inn, making her way to the McCord building. As she always did, she checked around her, but tonight she double-checked just in case Chucky was somewhere nearby waiting to go another round.

There was gossip about Chucky, too.

Sissy Lee had heard that Logan had brought Chucky to his office, but Reese figured that had to be just a rumor. There was no reason for Logan to talk to Chucky since in a few hours Reese would be on her way out of Spring Hill, and Chucky would be gone, as well. There was a six o'clock bus leaving in the morning, and she'd already bought her ticket.

Reese pushed aside the twinge she felt in her stomach and went to the back door of the McCord building. Unlike her other visit, this time it was unlocked, and Greg was still working at his desk.

“Logan's expecting you,” Greg greeted. He stood, went closer to her and leaned in as if to tell her a secret. “Explain to Logan that the brown sofa doesn't work. It's the only one the store had in stock, but it's butt ugly.”

Reese doubted she'd be staying long enough for a conversation about sofas, butt ugly ones or otherwise, but she assured Greg she would do just that if it came up. She made her way up the stairs, and like during her other visit, his loft doors were wide open. Unlike her other visit, though, she smelled chicken, onion and rosemary.

The first thing she saw was the sofa. Yes, it was ugly. The sort of piece that would probably be okay in a family room but not on gleaming hardwood floors against the backdrop of all those windows. It looked out of place.

As did Logan.

He was in the kitchen area of the loft, amid all those high-end appliances, and he was dishing up something from a skillet.

“Della fixed it,” he said. “It'll actually be edible.”

That's when Reese saw that he had two plates sitting on the new table. She watched, uncertain of what she should do, but then he motioned for her to sit. Apparently, he was sharing his dinner with her. And his wine. Logan opened a bottle that he took from the counter and poured two glasses.

She'd been right about those smells. It was chicken with rosemary and onions, and Della had done a baby potato dish and some steamed veggies.

“The place looks better,” she said, and because Reese thought they could use some levity, she added, “I do miss the broken porcelain boob, though. It was a great conversation piece.”

“I can have the work crew fish it out of the Dumpster for you.”

Good, he was going for levity, too. She hoped. She really didn't want that boob.

“I'm supposed to talk you out of keeping the sofa,” Reese said, still aiming for light.

“Greg.” He looked over at the sofa. “It's simple, and simple works for me right now.”

Reese wasn't sure if they were talking about furniture or life. Or even her. Yes, his life would be simpler when she was gone. Hers, too, she supposed. But she wanted the watch first.

He sat across from her at the bistro-sized table, eating and drinking as if this were a dinner date or something. Reese was instantly suspicious. But she was also hungry. So, she ate. It wasn't just edible, it was delicious.

“Tell me about Spenser O'Malley,” Logan said.

Just like that, the food wasn't so delicious anymore. Her stomach tightened into a cold, hard knot.

“Who told you?” But she immediately waved off her question. “Chucky did.” Ironic, though, since the man knew almost nothing about it.

Logan didn't press her for anything more, and Reese considered just clamming up, but he'd probably already gotten every last detail from another background check.

“What do you want to know about him?” she asked.

“What do you want to tell me?” he countered.

This was easy. “Nothing. I don't want to talk about him at all, but it's my guess that Chucky told you I was violent and then he dropped Spenser's name.”

“Pretty much,” Logan admitted. “All the details, though, are sealed in your juvie record.”

And apparently Logan's dirt-diggers hadn't been able to get into the sealed record. Which meant she could tell Logan anything. It surprised her that she wanted him to know the truth. Well, what part of the truth she could say aloud, anyway.

“I was sixteen when I met Spenser. He was nineteen. Things were fine between us in the beginning, and then they weren't.”

“He was from a good family,” Logan tossed out there. He didn't add “like mine” but Reese heard the unspoken words loud and clear.

“He was, but Spenser had anger-management issues. And clout. A bad combination.”

A muscle flickered in Logan's jaw. “He hit you?”

Again, there were things unspoken here. Logan had noticed how shaken up she'd been when Chucky had pushed her so maybe he'd put two and two together.

In this case, though, it didn't exactly equal four.

“He did,” she admitted. “And that's all I want to say about him.”

Reese expected Logan to press for more. He didn't. Maybe because it didn't matter. After all, she would soon be out of his life.

She made the mistake of looking at him, and Reese saw something she didn't want to see.

Sympathy.

Crud on a cracker. Not this. Not from Logan. She needed to get this conversation far away from Spenser, Chucky or anything else in her past.

“Before I forget,” she said, and she took out the piece of paper from her jeans pocket. “That's the recipe for the lemon thingies.” Reese slid it across the table just as he reached for it, and his fingers brushed across hers.

Good. This was a distraction she actually welcomed.

It felt intimate. Strange. Because this was a man she'd had sex with so a simple touch should have been just that: a simple touch. Of course, maybe nothing was simple when it came to Logan.

“I talked to Della about getting someone else to do Mia's party,” Reese explained. Best to keep the conversation moving. “She was a little disappointed but said it wasn't a problem.”

Reese hadn't wanted to tell Della that she'd been disappointed, too. She wasn't a kids' party expert, but she had been looking forward to doing the cake and food for the little girl.

“Did you really bring Chucky to your office?” she came out and asked.

He nodded. “I don't think he'll be bothering you again, but I could be wrong. You should be careful just in case.”

“Uh, what did you say to him?”

“We just talked.” He topped off their wine, and when he set down the bottle, he took out the watch from his pocket. As she'd done with the recipe, he slid it toward her.

No finger graze this time, but the emotions hit her pretty hard when she closed her fingers around it. For such a small piece of gold, it always packed an emotional wallop.

“Thank you,” she managed to say, though now there was a lump in her throat.

“The watch is important to you.” Not a question, but it was still an understatement.

“Very. It doesn't work. Hasn't since, well, in a long time. But it's still the only thing I actually treasure.”

She'd always said she would get it fixed but had never gotten around to it. It didn't have to tell time for her to feel the connection to the man who'd given it to her.