More Than Fiends (7 page)

“Right.” Logan jumped into action, running around the front of his car to open the passenger door for Thea. She got a kick out of that. I could tell by the way she looked at me behind his back and did the big eye roll.

“Thanks,” Logan said as he slid into the driver's seat.

“Sure,” I said, and I give me full points for not adding,
Don't think this is gonna happen every day, Bucko. That's my kid and you can't have her!

He backed out of the driveway, Thea waved, and I was just thinking about getting into my car and following them the three whole blocks to the school—give me a break; I've had to share her for exactly one whole day—when my cell phone rang. I dug it out of my jeans pocket, checked the call screen, sighed and flipped it open.

“Jesus, Rachel. Took you almost two minutes to dial. You're slowing down.”

“Zoe wouldn't let me call while I was driving. So I had to wait till I dropped her off.”

I hope she slowed the car down before she pushed her kid out the side door.

“Was that Logan Miller I just saw in your yard?”

One of the problems with living in a small town all your life is everybody knows you. Everybody knows everyone you know and everyone you will ever know, and nobody forgets a damn thing. Ever.

Take Rachel, for example. She's a year older than me, but we've been best friends for my whole life practically. She was there the summer I fell for Logan. She was there the first time I did the deed. The first time I threw up she read the damn pregnancy test when I was shaking too hard to look for myself.

Now her daughter Zoe is a year younger than Thea, and they've kept the whole best-friend thing going into the next generation.

Comforting.

Usually.

“Yes, it's Logan. He moved back to town.”

“And you didn't tell me?”

“I just found out yesterday.”

“And you didn't
tell
me?”

Right. What was I thinking, having a nervous breakdown by myself?

“So Thea knows?” she asked.

“That her dad didn't die in a flood?”

“Fire.”

“Whatever.” Why was it everyone but me remembered my lies? “Yes, she cleverly figured it out when he showed up at the house and said, ‘Wow, you look a lot like
me
.'”

“Damn. What now?” she asked, then shouted, “Hey, pick a lane, will you?”

I stepped out of the stupid tennis shoes, picked 'em up and headed back into the house. I didn't even want to think about Rachel driving while distracted. Concentrating, she was a menace.

“What're you gonna do?” she demanded.

“Right now? Get some coffee.”

“After.”

“More coffee.”

“Damn it, Cass, this is serious.”

She's
telling
me
? I dumped cold coffee into the sink, then refilled my cup and watched Sugar finish licking up the OJ. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Something,”
Rachel shrieked, and I heard a horn blasting. “Leave the car at home and call a cab, why don't you?” she shouted, then came back to me. “We have to be proactive about this.”

God, I hated when she pulled out the self-help words. “Nothing to be proactive about,” I said. “Logan's here. Thea knows. What's left to do?”

“God, it's a good thing you have me,” Rachel said. “I want to hear all about this. But first things first. Is he still hot? He looked really hot.”

Rachel's married to Simon Cohen, dentist. Nice guy. Smart guy. Hot guy? Not so much.

“Yes, he's still hot.” The fires warming the gates to Hell sprang to mind.

“Jesus,” Rachel said, “do you remember how he looked that summer…?”

All too well. I gulped coffee, fought down a tingle that reminded me of feelings I hadn't felt in way too long and scowled at myself. I'm not going there, I told myself. He's Thea's father. That's it. No more. No less. Hell. Even
I
didn't believe that one.

“I wonder if he still does that tongue thing you told me about—”

My body lit up, and I instantly wanted a detailed map to those flaming Hell gates. Talking to Rachel was so not helping. I started making staticky noises, hissing and snarling into the phone. “Hey, Rach, you're breaking up. Sor—Can't—hear—”

“You idiot,” Rachel said, “you're in your house; you're not breaking up. But I can take a hint.”

“Happy to hear it. Bye.”

“This isn't over.”

No shit. Rachel never gave up on anything. She'd be interrogating me more thoroughly when she had the time.

But for now, there was silence.

Man, it was good.

At least, my life was my own until Jasmine popped back into it. God, how was I supposed to handle this demon thing? “Sugar, this sucks. All of it.”

The dog didn't give a damn. She was still looking for more OJ to lick up off the floor. Life was simple when you were a hundred-pound dog with a tapeworm.

When the doorbell rang, I groaned and headed out of the kitchen. I opened the front door, took one look at the man on my porch and wondered why I couldn't catch a break. Even a tiny one.

“Logan, what do you want? You already took Thea to school, and I don't need a ride anywhere.”

“Funny.” He was frowning, probably not a good sign. Did I care? Not so much.

He pushed past me into the house, walked all the way into the living room, then turned around to face me, arms folded across his chest, blue eyes narrowed and chin jutted out like he was expecting somebody to punch it. “Thea's a great kid, Cassie.”

“And this makes you mad?” I asked and flopped down into the closest chair. Give me a break. It was barely morning, and already I was having to deal with problems.

“It makes me furious that I don't even
know
her,” he said and threw both hands high. “She's practically grown. We made a
person
and I never knew about it. Shouldn't I have known? Shouldn't I have sensed it or something?”

Who was he mad at? Himself? Or me?

“You should have told me.”

Question answered.

“We already covered that yesterday,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, and I told you we weren't nearly done. Damn it, Cassie, I missed her whole life.” He shook his head in disgust. “This morning, she talked to me like I was a stranger.”

“You are.”

“And who's fault is that?”

I pushed up and out of the chair and faced him on my own two feet. “Mine, okay? It's all my fault. I was sixteen, and I chose to keep my kid and not tell you. And then later, I didn't tell you because you were married and, for all I knew,
happy
.”

“I still would have wanted to know about her.”

“I know!” Disgusted myself now, I added, “I should've told you. Happy?”

“No.”

“Well,” I sighed, temper gone, drained away by a vast need for caffeine, “if it helps, she's not speaking to me.”

“Thanks,” he said as he followed me into the kitchen. “It does help.”

“Look,” I told him, pulling an extra coffee cup out of the cupboard and filling it for him, “I'm willing to work this out because I'm a fabulous human being, but I'm only going to listen to you being mad for so long.”

“About sixteen years?” he asked, a reluctant smile curving one corner of his mouth.

“Ha-ha,” I said and handed him his coffee. “One more time, Logan. I was a kid. And pregnant, okay?”

He leaned back against the counter, holding the cup between his palms. “If I'd known, it would have been different,” he said. “Cassie, you wrote to me all that year, and you never even mentioned it.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, taking a huge gulp of coffee, “like you never mentioned that you were dating Skippy.”

“Misty.”

“Whatever.” I set my cup down and walked to the service porch with Logan only a step or two behind me. While I stuffed the new washer with a load of towels—Thea used two for every shower, one for her hair and one for her body, and took two showers a day (you do the math)—Logan leaned against the dryer, watching me.

To be honest, he gave good stare.

He made me so jumpy I dumped in enough soap to wash five loads and hoped that wouldn't come back to bite me in the ass. Then I slammed the lid and looked up at him. Well over six feet, it took a while to lift my gaze all the way to his eyes, but it was worth the trip.

“What do you want from me, Logan?”

He blew out a breath, crossed his feet at the ankles and said, “Another shot.”

“At what?”

“You.”

Whoa baby!

“I mean,” he said, reaching out to skim his fingers along my bare forearm (and I felt the goose bumps jumping up to shout hello), “you're not seeing anyone.”

“And you know this how?” I asked, trying to keep from shivering as the
tingle, tingle, tingle
rocketed through me, straight down to a hoo-hah screaming for some action.

“Because you would have thrown him at me by now.”

“Hmm. Good point.”

He straightened up and leaned into me, pushing my hair back behind my ear. “I'm back, Cassie, and this time I'm not leaving.”

Breathe,
breathe,
damn it. Okay, now I was calm.

“I can't get involved with you, Logan.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because…”
Come on, Cass, where's that nimble brain when you really need it? Where are all the great lies that tumble from your mouth every time you're in a tight spot?
Finally, I just blurted, “Because we had a kid together.”

He laughed, and both black eyebrows went up. “That's your reason?”

“Well, yeah,” I said, warming up to it as the seconds ticked past. “Thea would be horrified. You don't want to blow anything with her, do you?”

Logan frowned thoughtfully for a long moment. “Okay, maybe it is a little soon.”

“Good. Better.” Nodding, I felt like I'd gotten myself out of that one smoothly enough. Of course, then I realized I'd just talked my way out of a possible orgasm, and that was depressing as hell.

“So we won't tell her,” Logan said.

“Huh?”

Logan dipped his head to mine and came so close to kissing me I automatically leaned in, licking my lips in eagerness. Then he dropped both hands to my shoulders and smiled. “You know,” he said, “maybe you're right. Don't want to rush into anything.”

When I caught the gleam of amusement in his eyes, I practically snarled at him. “You rotten bastard.” My lips were going to be disappointed. Hell, they'd get used to it. My hoo-hah had. “You did that on purpose.”

“What?” He feigned innocence, but I wasn't fooled. I had seen that look on his face before, right before he said, “Trust me. You won't get pregnant the first time we do it.”

I may learn slow, but eventually I wise up.

Grabbing a fistful of his flannel shirt, I dragged him through the house to the front door. Sugar barked and leaped around us, trying to play. Logan was still laughing when I pushed him through the screen door to the porch.

Then, as the laughter faded, he grabbed my hand before I could slam and lock the door.

“Okay, Cassie,” he said, trying for solemn and apologetic, “so it wasn't funny.”

“You think?”

“But come on. I owed you. You hid my
kid
from me.”

My heart felt like it was dropping into my stomach. Ick. “That's what this is all about for you, Logan?” I asked, watching his eyes. “Payback?”

“No.” His blue eyes met mine straight on, no games, no laughter, no jokes. “You really threw me, Cassie. Seeing Thea. Being home again. Being with you…It's a lot.”

That I could understand because, hey, it was a lot for me, too. “Yeah, it is.”

And as we stared at each other, I thought wildly,
Okay, this might be all right. We can be grown-ups about this. It'll be fine. We'll work it out and everything will be good.

Then he spoke up again, popping that balloon.

“I've got to get to the station now, but, Cassie?” He reached up, cupped my cheek with one hand and stroked his thumb across my cheek. “We're not done. I've got plenty of questions for you. And I'm gonna want answers.”