Stud for Hire (17 page)

His gaze flicked to her and clung. “Damn it all,” he growled. “I'm late. I didn't want to be late.”

Rafe laughed. “Oh, I think we've covered most of it.”

Oh. They had. Logan had bought her father's chili. Bought her paintings. Snatched them from financial ruin in one fell swoop.

Why did it feel like an attempt to buy
her
?

Damn, she was gorgeous. So gorgeous she stole his breath. Made his teeth hurt.

He studied her with sharp, hungry eyes, taking in her rampant red curls, her tight features, the rebellious tip of her chin. Her slight form hummed with sudden tension.

Aw, shit.
She was angry.

She folded her arms over her chest and stared at him. He didn't like the look on her face. He'd suspected she'd be pissed when she learned who he was, but he'd hoped to be here before she arrived. He'd hoped to explain everything first.

He should have called.

He should have just gone over to her house and seen her.

But every time he'd thought about it, he talked himself out of it.

Because he was a coward.

He was scared to death of losing her.

And he couldn't lose her.

Not now.

But now she was here. Now he could explain everything. He needed to take it easy. Go slow. His gaze zeroed in on the fading bruise on her chin and everything easy and slow within him evaporated. The bruise was shaped like a man's fingers. Zack's fingers.

His vision went a little red as rage roiled. “Hanna.” He nodded to her. Perhaps he'd clipped that out a little too brusquely, but he didn't trust himself right now. Didn't trust himself not to yank her into his arms and kiss her and hold her and know,
know,
she was okay.

Her lips curled. “Logan.”

Oh yeah. Really pissed.

He pulled out a chair and sat across from her, although across from her was exactly
not
where he wanted to be. He wanted to be next to her, holding her.
In her.

Easy. He reminded himself. Slow and easy.

“Hanna, honey, I know what you're thinking. I was going to tell you.”

Her expression tightened. “The way you were going to tell me you weren't a stripper?”

“Whoa!” Rafe leapt to his feet. “Looks like you two need a moment to talk.”

Hanna ignored him. Her gaze was fixed on Logan. “The way you were going to tell me we went to the same high school? The way you were going to tell me you were the one who—”

Her voice broke, but Logan knew what she'd been about to say. Yeah. He was the one. The one who had interrupted one of the nastiest moments of her life. “Hanna . . .”

Rafe, damn him, looked from one of them to the other and laughed. “Well. I guess I'll leave you to it,” he said, smacking Logan on the shoulder. “It was nice meeting you, Hanna.” He thrust his hand in her direction and she took it.

An unpleasant ripple snaked up Logan's spine. Rafe was his brother. They'd been closer than jeans to a saddle since their parents had met and married. He would do anything for him. But the sight of him touching Hanna made Logan see red. Made him want to spit nails.

“I'll, ah, be in the other room,” Rafe murmured, directing this comment to Hanna, which only raised Logan's hackles even more.

“We'll be fine,” Logan snapped.

Rafe chuckled.
The bastard.
He turned to Hanna and winked. “Let me know if you need anything, honey. Okay?”

“Go, already,” Logan growled. And with a saucy salute, he did, taking his time, ambling back into the kitchen, his head cocked, as though he really wanted to listen. Logan fixed his attention on Hanna. “Hanna, I know this is a surprise—”

“Not really.”

He blinked. “I . . . what?”

She sighed, deflating, somehow. “I should have expected it.”

Expected it? “Expected what?” He had the sense she was not talking about the secrets he'd kept.

“You're all alike.”

“What do you mean?” Trepidation swirled in his gut.

Her hand fluttered toward him. “Men. You're all alike.”

“No.” They weren't. Not by a long shot.

“You lied to me.”

“Technically, I didn't lie.”

“You didn't tell me the whole truth.”

“There wasn't an opportunity.” He blew out a breath. “I was going to tell you everything, I was going to explain it all, and make this offer . . . when Zack arrived.” And took her away.

“You're the one who bought my paintings.”

Damn. He hated the defeated expression on her face. Mostly because he didn't understand it. “Why does that upset you? You needed money and I needed art.”

“You didn't
need
art.”

“I
wanted
art.”

A tear clung to her lash. It about killed him. “I thought . . . I thought someone . . . Oh, I'm an idiot.”

He stared at her. If he lived to be a hundred, he'd never understand women. “What is it, honey?”

She glared at his use of the endearment, but he didn't care. She was dear. Beyond dear.

“I thought someone actually
liked
my work.”

“I like your work.” And when she shot him a disbelieving look, “
Really
like your work.”

She fisted her hands on the tabletop. He couldn't help noticing the slight tremble. “You bought Dad's chili. You bought my paintings. You're . . . just like Zack.”

His breath seized. His muscles locked against the pain her words caused. She couldn't have hurt him more if she'd pointed a rifle at his heart and shot him point blank. “How? How am I just like Zack?”

“Just like him, you're trying to buy me.”

Something nasty curled and spat in his belly, like a rattler. “I am not.”

Her fingers fluttered. She wrapped them around her glass to still them. “Do you deny you want something from me?”

“Oh, I do.” He pushed back his chair and rounded the table and sat down beside her. It annoyed him that she scooted away. Just a tad, but she scooted away. As though she didn't trust him. As though she
feared
him. The thought devastated him. He nearly eased back, but this needed to be said and, by God, she needed to hear it. He set his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him, his gaze boring into hers. “I do want something from you, Hanna.”

She flinched. Her throat worked. “What?” Her tone made it clear she thought she knew.

She thought she knew. But she was wrong.

Well, hell, not totally. He did want sex, but not at the cost of the rest.

He lowered his voice, infused it with, he hoped, all the sincerity he could muster. Indeed, his tone was broken, bleak. “I want you to be free. Not driven by some misplaced sense of obligation—”

“It was hardly misplaced.”

He ignored her interruption. “I want you to be free of a man you don't want. I want you to follow your heart. Goddamn it, Hanna, I want you to be happy.”

Her frown softened. She nibbled her lip. Then she tightened up again. “No one spends that kind of money to make someone else happy.”

“Don't they?” He'd have given everything he had to see her free of Zack. Anything.

She stared at him, studied him, her expression bewildered. “Why?”

“What?” He cocked his head to the side, unsure what she was asking.

“You heard me. Why? Why did you do it?”

“Don't you know?”

Her fingers started fluttering again. She tried to turn away. He could not allow it. “This is about sex, isn't it?” she mumbled.

Pain pinged in his chest. Not just because of her tone, ravaged and disheartened. But because she didn't trust him. He didn't blame her. He blamed Zack, the asshat who had used and abused her.

“No, Hanna. It's not about sex.” He swallowed. It was difficult to push the words out, but he had to. “It's about a kid. A stupid, awkward kid who was in love with a girl once. And then he saw her again. He hated the look in her eye. The trapped look in her eye. That boy would have done anything to protect her, to make her happy. To set her free. To set you free. I did it for that boy.”

***

Hanna gaped at him. Her heart ker-chunked and then tumbled. His words, his features were so imbued with an irrefutable earnestness, and undeniable pain. She wanted to believe he'd done those miraculous things out of the goodness of his heart, and not to bind her to him with obligation. But a little voice in the back of her mind urged her to be cautious.

Something else crowded her consciousness, surfaced in the swirling miasma of emotion.
It wasn't about sex.
Why did
that
make her stomach plunge?

“So . . . you don't want me?” It came out in a small voice, slipped out before she could hold back the ridiculous words.

He stared at her, his eyes red-rimmed. His lips opened and closed. “What?”

“You said this wasn't about sex. You don't want me.” She swallowed. As hard as it had been to say the first time it was a damn sight harder to repeat.

That he laughed, a harsh snort, didn't help.

But then he yanked her into his arms and kissed her. Not just a quick, gentle buss. This was a savage,
wanting
kiss.

By the time he pulled back, she was breathless. “Oh, I want you. Don't ever doubt that. But not for sex.” He winced and scrubbed his face with a palm. “Okay. Not
just
for sex.” He searched for words for a moment. “I was head over heels for you in high school. But we're different people now. I'm not that geeky kid and you're not that carefree cheerleader. I did all this because I wanted, needed, a chance to explore what's between us. But only . . .” He held her out, far enough to skewer her gaze with his. “Only if it's what you want. That's what this has been all about. That's why I helped your dad sell his chili recipe . . . although it is damn good chili. That's why I had Rafe buy your paintings and commission you to do more. Although they are damn gorgeous paintings. I did it all so you'd be free. Free to make your own choice. And I mean that.” His voice rumbled with intensity. “And if I'm being perfectly honest . . .”

“Yes, please. Please be perfectly honest.”

He shot her a slightly repentant smile. “It didn't hurt that I got to thwart Zack in the process.”

Her heart, her mood, lifted. She did feel free. Utterly free, like a bird set to wing. Her father was no longer under Zack's thumb. Someone—other than Logan—liked her paintings enough to want to buy them. Three of them at least, Rafe had told her. And she had the chance to create more art—and get paid for it. Everything she'd ever wanted or needed or prayed for, he'd handed to her.

If she hadn't adored him blindly already, she certainly did now. Only one question remained. “Why did you hire me to paint your mural?” That went above and beyond
freeing
her. Far above and beyond.

His lips quirked. “Don't you know, baby?”

She shook her head.

“So I could see you. Once in a while I could see you. We'd be working closely together as the store nears its launch. I thought, perhaps, in that time, I could get to know you better and you could get to know me. There's something between us, Hanna. Something powerful. This gives us both a chance to explore it.” He sat back and raised his hands. “With no strings attached.”

Oh. She liked that idea. Liked it a lot. Spending time with him. Exploring . . .
this
. Her soul soared. “No strings?”

“None. Whatsoever.”

She nibbled her lip. “No ropes either?” She shouldn't have teased him like that, reminding him of their adventures in the barn. But it was far too tempting.

His eyes widened. His nostrils flared. A muscle bunched in his cheek. “M-maybe. If you want.”

She liked the way she could reduce him to a stutter, this calm, assured, dominant man. She liked the idea of getting to know him, exploring their connection. She really liked the idea of working with him on . . . something.

“So what do you say? Are you in?”

Hanna snorted. “I already signed the contract.”

Logan frowned. “Fuck the contract. What do
you
want?”

And that was it, wasn't it? That was what touched her heart and truly freed her and made her want to burst into song. This man, this gorgeous, sexy, powerful man was willing to let her walk away from this, from everything.
If she wanted to
.

She didn't want to.

“When do I start?”

His lips curled into a slow smile. His muscles relaxed. He nearly collapsed in a heap at her side. And she realized how tense he'd been. How anxious, awaiting her response. It only validated her decision.

“As soon as you can make the arrangements. Tomorrow?” He suggested hopefully. “Today? Now?”

Hanna laughed. The first truly heartfelt laugh she'd known for far too long.

Exhilaration bubbled through her. And not just for the mural. She was going to get to spend time with Logan. To get to know him better. To explore this thing between them.

She couldn't wait.

He couldn't wait.

Couldn't wait to get . . . started. With this exploration.

Oh, the mural was important too. He really wanted this restaurant to be a huge success, and not just because it was located close to his home. He had a sense, a pinging in his gut, that with her taking part in the décor, it would be downright gorgeous, and ambiance was everything in the restaurant business.

But really, he couldn't wait to get her alone again.

“We can go by now and have a look at the site,” he suggested. “You could take some photos and start thinking about ideas. It's still under construction, but everything is ready for you to start work right away.”

It thrilled him that she nodded. Smiled.

Damn, he loved her smile.

“Are you ready?” he asked, though part of him wasn't asking about the trip across town. Part of him was asking about something else entirely.

She met his gaze, steady and strong. “Yes,” she said.

He hoped she was responding to his unspoken question. A shiver of anticipation walked through him. He held out his hand. “Great. Let's go.”

Rafe popped his head out of the kitchen as they stood, confirming Logan's suspicion he'd been listening in. “Where are you going?” he asked, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“We're heading for Red Oak. So Hanna can get the lay of the land.”

Rafe's eyes lit up. Probably with mischief. “Oh, I want to go.”

Logan glared at him. “Don't you have something you need to do here?”

“Not really.”

Logan could have punched him. He was itching for time alone with Hanna. The last thing he wanted at this stage of the game was an interfering brother. One who looked at her with interest that was a little too bright.

“Yeah. I'm pretty sure you need to do that thing.”

Rafe frowned. “What thing?”

Logan didn't respond. He hustled Hanna toward the door, gratified when she followed his lead without demur. It made him think she might want to spend time alone with him as well. “See ya.” He sketched a wave at his brother over her head. His message was clear.

Butt out.

Of course, Rafe laughed. But he didn't follow them.
Thank God.

“We can take my truck,” Logan suggested as they made their way through the parking lot. He unlocked his rig and helped her climb in.

“Lordy,” she muttered, hefting herself into the seat. “What is it about men and big trucks?”

He shot her a grin. “Overcompensation?”

She snorted in response.

He made his way around the rig and hopped into the cab on the driver's side. But before he started her up, he glanced at Hanna. “You ready?” he asked. Though again, he wasn't necessarily asking about the visit to the restaurant.

She rearranged her purse and her portfolio before she answered. Then she met his eye. “Let's do this thing.”

“All right.” He turned the key and the engine roared to life and he pulled out into traffic. He knew the way to the new store like it was the back of his hand, which was a good thing, because he was totally fixated on her. Her scent. The rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed. The glimmer of her hair in the corner of his eye. He reminded himself it would probably make a bad impression if he rear-ended the little old lady in a Pinto in front of him, so he attempted to focus on his driving.

She spoke into the silence and threw him for a loop. “I thought you were a ranch hand.”

He chuckled. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Only when I lose a bet.” He winked at her.

Their gazes met. It took everything in him to keep his focus on the road. “Do you gamble much?”

“Only with Cody. And I won't be doing that again.”

“Do you see him very often?”

Logan shrugged. “Not as often as I'd like. But it's a long way from here to Snake Gully.” In more ways than one.

She went quiet, as though she caught the bite in his tone and wondered over it. “Why did you leave Snake Gully?”

He couldn't help glancing at her. Couldn't help frowning. He certainly couldn't tell her everything. “I got in a fight.” There. That was close to the truth. “I ended up in the hospital. Here, in Dallas.”

Her eyes widened. “They brought you here?”

Medevaced him. Helicopter and all. “Yeah. I was . . . There was some doubt I'd make it. I was here for a while.”

He could feel her attention on him. It burned. “What kind of fight did you get into that landed you in the hospital?”

He shrugged. “Just kid stuff.” Damn. He didn't want her to dig any further. “Anyway, while I was in the hospital, my mom took an apartment here in Dallas and got a job working as a waitress in a restaurant. So she could be close to me.”

“I can't imagine what that must have been like for her.”

“Yeah. It was tough. We didn't have a pot to piss in. The prospect of huge medical bills was beyond her. But she's so damn brave. She just did it.”

“I'd love to meet her sometime.”

He shot her a grin. “Oh, you will.” If he had anything to say about it, she'd meet them all. All of his family. Just not too soon. He needed time alone with her first.

“So what happened when you got out of the hospital?”

He snorted. “She swore a blue streak we would never go back. Never step foot in that town again.” And he hadn't. Until he'd gone, haring in, searching for
her
. He still wasn't quite over the terror he'd felt watching her drive off into the distance with Zack. He reminded himself she was safe. Here. With him. It helped to touch her. Unbidden, his hand found hers on the bench seat. He covered it. Squeezed. She flipped her hand over and wove her fingers in his. Her touch anchored him somehow. “I needed physical therapy. Lots of it.” He shot a glance at her. “They said I would never walk again.”

“Oh my God.” Her fingers tightened on his.

“They were wrong. Of course, Sam had a lot to do with that.”

“Sam?”

“Sam Wilder. He was my mom's boss.”

“Sam
Wilder
?” Her eyes widened as she began to see the full picture.

“Yup. They met, fell in love, and eventually married. Though she was stubborn and resisted his proposals.”

“How many times did he propose?”

Logan shrugged. “About twenty, I suppose.”

“And why did she say no? Didn't she love him?”

He took the off-ramp heading for the store. “Oh, she did. But he was rich and she was poor and for some reason she thought that made a damn bit of difference.” He couldn't help but see a parallel in their situation, and she did too, judging from how she turned away to stare out the window. “Mom finally realized none of that mattered. Nothing mattered but being together. And that's how I got three brothers.”

Three brothers who, apparently, loved to interfere. As he pulled into the gravel lot at the site of the new restaurant, Brandon's blue Range Rover was parked by the door. And next to it, Ben's Chevy.

Damn.

Rafe must have called them.

So much for getting her alone.

***

Hanna stared at the gray-cement façade of the restaurant. It didn't look much like the one they'd just left, as it was clearly under construction, but it was finished enough to give her a sense of how magnificent it would be when it was done. Trucks and dozers and a cement mixer speckled the lot. Burly men in hard hats wandered around with clipboards.

Logan took a moment to survey the building and he sighed. “Coming right along,” he said, excitement threaded in his tone. He loved this, she realized. Really loved this. “The layout is a little different for this one,” he said, grabbing two hard hats from the backseat and handing her one. “The others are all based on the original store. This one, I designed.”

“You designed it?”

His eyes glimmered. “Did I mention I'm an architect?”

“No. You did not. Do that between stripping gigs?” she asked with a grin.

“Of course.”

She opened the door and made the long, precarious slide down to the ground. She set the hat on her head and held it there against a gust of wind. Little dust funnels whorled. Unlike the other, this restaurant was not set in a teeming cityscape, rather, in undeveloped land, land the nearby city was just waiting to envelop. Right now it was a great field of scrub, the two small bungalows across the road the only other structures for miles.

“In five years this whole area will be homes and shops,” he said coming around to her side. “We got the acreage for a song though, when land prices tanked a couple years back.”

“It's large.”

He nodded. “Lots of room for expansion. This whole area will be the parking lot.” He waved at the gravel. “It's getting poured in a couple weeks. There will be a garden over there.” He pointed to the left. “And we're thinking a kid's play park over here. Make it a place for families. Brandon wants to open a shop too, for merchandize, but we're still debating that.”

“This is a huge project.”

His face broke into a grin. “I know.”

“And you're in charge of it?”

“Yup. All of it.”

“And here I thought you were a ranch hand.”

“Like I said. Only when I lose a bet. Though, in the interest of full disclosure, I do own a ranch.”

“Do you?”

“Yup. I have people who run it for me. I mostly spend weekends there, because I'm so busy here.”

“Do you have a horse?” Hanna knew lots of people who owned ranches. That hardly made them ranchers. In her opinion, the measure of a true rancher was whether or not he rode.

Logan snorted a laugh. “Several.” He took her arm and helped her over the uneven surface. “I need to warn you . . .” This he murmured in a disquieting tone.

Hanna glanced up at him; his features were tight and pinched, his mouth puckered like a lemon. He stared at two men loping toward them across the lot. “About what?”

“About them.” He grimaced as one of the men hooted a greeting and waved his hat. They came closer and Hanna stared. Two drop-dead gorgeous men. Tall and scruffy and incredibly imposing. They both looked like younger versions of Rafe.

And they were identical in every respect, except one wore a red shirt and the other blue.

“My brothers,” Logan huffed. “They're a pain in the ass.”

***

Damn it.

All Logan wanted was time with Hanna. Alone. He should have known better.

His brothers swooped down like vultures, their eyes way too bright as they studied her. Logan felt his hackles start to rise.

He'd never realized he had such active hackles until lately.

“Logan!” Brandon boomed, wrapping him into a big hug. “How's it hangin', bro?” Logan winced. And not just because of Brandon's crass question. The hug was a bone cruncher. He suffered the same from Ben, who was only a tad more restrained. Then they turned their attention on Hanna.

“So, this is the artist?”

The glint in Ben's eyes made something nasty shift in his gut. He set his teeth and practically snarled, “Hanna Stevens. Ben and Brandon Wilder.”

“How do you do?” She put out her hand, and winced as, in turn, they shook it. He should have warned her. Brandon and Ben were beyond enthusiastic in all things. Ebullient and sometimes dangerous hugs and handshakes weren't the worst of it.

“Come on inside.” He attempted to extricate her from Ben's grip. “Hanna's here to look at the interior. She's agreed to paint the mural.”

“Excellent,” Brandon's eyes glimmered. “I love your work. I'm hoping we can have more of your paintings for sale in the restaurants.”

She nodded. “Rafe mentioned that. I have a couple new ones ready to go, but I don't know if I'll have much time to paint while I'm working on this.”

Brandon took her arm—which annoyed Logan to no end—and led her toward the entrance. “Sure. Whenever you get them done. They don't have to be large. In fact, smaller ones may move faster, on account of the price.”

“The . . . price?” She glanced back at Logan, her eyes wide. Logan shrugged. Brandon was like a tsunami. There was no holding him back.

“Yeah. We're thinking five hundred to a thousand for the large ones . . .”

“F-five . . . what?”

Brandon nodded. “And maybe two or three for the smaller ones.”

“That much?”

Logan hated the way his brother smiled at her. The way she responded. “It's all what the market will bear. And people love your paintings.”

Her features softened, went all dewy. Damn.
Damn.
Why did she have to look at Brandon like that?

Logan wanted to smack him.

His brother opened the door and ushered her inside.

She stopped short, staring at his creation with her lips parted. “This is . . . This is . . .”

What?
What?

She stared at him; his pulse thrummed.

What?

“It's beautiful.”

Pride and joy rained through him. She liked it. She liked what he'd done.

“I just need to . . .” She fished around in her purse and pulled out her phone. “May I?” She gestured toward the interior.

“Sure,” Ben piped up, though clearly the question had not been aimed at him. “Go ahead. Take all the photos you want.”

She did, wandering through the empty space, snapping pictures here and there of the spots she planned to paint. Logan could see the excitement, the ideas, bubbling up in her. When his brothers seemed inclined to follow her, he held them back.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” he hissed.

Ben grinned. Dimples erupted on his cheeks. Where Ben was concerned, dimples were
not
a good sign. “Rafe called us.”

“I figured.”