Ms. Starr’s Most Inconvenient Change of Heart (A Raven's Run Romantic Mystery Book 1)

by Dorothy St. James

  “Married?” Cole said as he sandwiched me between him and his brother. “You two are married? When the hell did this happen?”

  “Remember when mom planned that big hospital wedding?” Logan asked as he slid a little closer to me into the booth.

  “Yeah, but that was just—”

  “It wasn’t,” Logan said.

  “Married?” he repeated.

  “Just until I sign the divorce papers,” Logan said.

  When I heard how easy Logan could admit to getting me out of his life, grief squeezed my chest. Not that it should. I needed him to sign those papers so I could get my wedding back on track.

  I squared my shoulders and smiled as if I’d meant it. “I’m getting married in seven days.”

  Cole nodded absently.

  Clearly, he wasn’t quite done being angry with his brother. “It’s been six years since anyone has heard from you. You need to call Mom.”

  “That’s not right. She’s—” I started to say, but Logan didn’t let me finish.

  “Cole, you of all people should understand why I can’t just pop in and visit family whenever I want. Or invite you to visit me.”

  “No, I don’t understand why.”

  “You wouldn’t invite Mom and Dad to go with you into a burning building, would you?”

  “No, but—”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “It is.”

  “Then you need to find another line of work because this one isn’t a life,” Cole concluded.

  Logan pinched his lips together. After a tense silence, he slid out of the booth. “I’m going to go order a beer. Do you want one, Sam?”

  “I’d rather a glass of chardonnay,” I said to his retreating backside.

  Cole slouched slightly in the booth and rubbed his square chin as he watched me. “Sam, I can’t believe it’s really you. And that you’re married to my brother.”

  “Not for long.” It hurt me to say.

  “Doesn’t matter how long it’ll be. You performed a miracle by getting Logan back to Raven’s Run.”

  “I don’t understand. Logan has been talking as if this is the only place in the world he wants to be.”

  Cole shook his head. “If that’s true, he has a funny way of showing it. He’s not visited Raven’s Run for nearly ten years. The last time any of us saw Logan was when he’d showed up unexpectedly for Christmas at my parent’s place in Charleston six years ago. He never writes. He never calls.”

  “That’s not right. His mother—”

  “A New York wedding?” a compact woman with short red hair squealed as she hurried toward us. Logan, a few steps behind her, had to jog to keep up. She carried a tray heavy with drinks and baskets of assorted finger foods: fried fish, cheese, and of course French fries, which she placed in a line down the center of the table. “The farthest north I’ve ever been is Raleigh. But I dream of visiting the big city. You simply have to tell me all about it. And I mean everything. Every. Single. Detail.”

  She pushed into the booth and pressed against me as if we were best of friends. “What flowers are you using?”

  “Don’t be alarmed,” Cole assured me. “Carrie isn’t dangerous. She’s just excitable.”

  “She’s also our cousin,” Logan added. “And tends bar here.”

  “We’ve met.” Carrie grabbed both of my hands and squeezing them tightly. “At the hospital. I’m sure you remember me. I had pigtails back then. And toted around a pink My Little Pony everywhere.”

  “Pigtails?” I had no memory of her or her pink pony. But I smiled and nodded, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

  “Now you must eat. The fish is fresh off the boat.”

  I took a bite. The breading gave a delightful crunch and revealed a delicate white fish that melted like butter in my mouth.

  “You weren’t lying, Logan. This is the best fish I’ve ever tasted,” I said.

  “Don’t know how he’d know,” Cole grumbled.

  Logan punched his brother’s arm. Not bothering to join us in the booth, he plucked a fried cheese stick from the basket lined with red and white checkered paper.

  As I sipped a glass of exceptional Chardonnay and devoured the lunch, Carrie peppered me with questions about the wedding. She hadn’t been kidding about wanting to know everything. From the color of the bridesmaids’ dresses to the kind of paper I’d used for the invitations, even the most minor of details interested her. Her pretty green eyes grew wide with excitement as I told her about the reception hall we’d rented and how it was going to be decorated with hundreds of yellow roses.

  Roses instead of lavender. I was still heartbroken over the lack of lavender flowers at my wedding.

  As we talked, Cole kept glancing over at Logan, who continued to nurse the same beer he’d purchased a half hour ago.

  Finally, Cole slid out of the booth. He grabbed Logan’s arm and dragged his brother along with him to the other side of the bar. I could tell by the way they leaned their heads close together that they were speaking in low voices.

  “How many people are in the wedding party?”

  “Sixteen,” I said without taking my eyes off the two brothers. I scooted closer to the end of the booth’s bench, ready to dash across the room and jump on Cole’s back if he started to punch Logan again.

  Not that Logan needed me as his protector.

  “Six-teen?” Carrie breathed. “That many?”

  I nodded absently.

  Logan pointed in my direction.

  Cole turned toward our table. His frown deepened even further.

  “And your fiancé? How has he helped in the planning?”

  “He’s—” I had to stop and think about that. In the last couple of hours, Logan had done more to help with my wedding preparation than George had done in nearly twelve months. “He’s—”

  I’m sure George had done something.

  “I’m sure he’s been a big help in helping you make decisions when it came to picking out the kind of cake and deciding on colors and the invitations. Sometimes, all we need is someone to hear what we’ve been doing. You know, someone to bounce ideas off of,” Carrie said helpfully.

  But no, other than wanting to attend the cake tasting, he’d insisted I not bother him with the details. Didn’t even want to hear about them.

  “I hate to break up your little party, Carrie. But we’ve really need to go,” Logan said when he returned to my side.

  “Right,” I said as I slid out of the booth. Truth be told, I was glad for the interruption, which was odd. For the past year, the only thing I’d wanted to talk about was my wedding.

  It was going to be big and beautiful and perfect.

  And now?

  Nothing about the wedding seemed perfect anymore.

  The thought of walking down the aisle and pledging myself forever to George, who hadn’t even bothered to return my frantic phone call, made my stomach clench.

  Logan, as if sensing my agitation, reached out and twined his fingers with mine. He then gave my hand a little squeeze.

  “It’ll be okay.” His voice sounded so velvety smooth and so confident.

  I tried to smile.

  “I’ll keep an eye on things and let you know what I learn,” Cole said. “You can count on me to help get things sorted.”

  “Thanks.” Logan patted his brother’s shoulder as if no tension had ever existed between them.

  Logan scribbled his cell number on the back of a napkin. “It’s a throwaway phone. But the number will be good for a least a couple of days. I don’t care what time it is, call if you find out anything or see anyone or anything suspicious.”

  “What’s going on?” Carrie asked, her neck craning around me in an attempt to read what Logan had written on the napkin.

  Cole and Logan exchanged glances before pasting on matching fake smiles. “Nothing,” Cole said. “Just making sure no one ruins Sam’s nuptials.”

  “You’d bette
r do that. The wedding sounds fantastic!”

  “Sam?” Logan gave my hand another squeeze. I knew I should have pulled away from him, but his grip felt so warm and strong. And yes, I craved his touch. Even if it was just an innocent bit of hand holding and even if it was just for a little while, I didn’t want to let go. “Are you ready?”

  I nodded and grabbed a melt-in-your-mouth fried fish to take with me. “Thank you for the delicious lunch, Carrie. I’d love to stay longer to catch up, but we have tons of shopping to do.”

  “Logan is taking you shopping? You lucky girl! I’ve never dated a man who would shop with me.”

  Before Logan could rush me out the door, Carrie pulled me into a big bear hug. “I’m so glad to see you again, especially since you brought our Logan back to us.” And then she whispered, “I think you’re marrying the wrong guy. Have you seen the way Logan looks at you? And he’ll take you shopping? You can’t let a guy like that get away from you. You really can’t.”

  Chapter 18

  Logan gritted his teeth for so long and so hard he worried he’d crack all his teeth. Just an hour ago he’d thought nothing could be worse than helping Sam work through the wedding plans to another man and what she still needed to do to get herself married.

  How wrong he’d been!

  Listening to her discuss those details with Carrie had nearly ripped his heart clear out of his chest.

  You don’t want to be married.

  Not to anyone.

  Especially not to Sam.

  After they’d left the Fish Camp, Sam had had a special glow to her he hadn’t noticed before. Her smile made the sun shine brighter. When she walked, the rhythmic sway of her hips made it seem as if she were dancing to a song only she could hear. And her cheeks had a rosy blush to them that hadn’t come from the makeup she wore.

  It seemed as if she’d gained all this happiness just from talking to Carrie about her upcoming wedding.

  Well crud. She must really love that jerk of a fiancé.

  Although she hadn’t mentioned the wedding as they picked up a door and a new window from the corner hardware store, a mini wardrobe of outfits from the town’s last remaining department store, and several bags of groceries, his jaw had refused to relax. Every time he looked at her, all he could think about was that dratted wedding of hers.

  When they got back to the safety of the cabin, he started work to install the new door and window. He’d found a nail gun in the cabin’s shed. But instead of using it, he’d grabbed a hammer that had a good heavy feel in his hand. Swinging the hammer did wonders for his black mood.

  Swing. Thwack! Yes, Sam was still the same fun-loving girl he’d fallen in love with fifteen years ago. But she’d grown into a woman.

  Swing. Thwack! A beautiful woman. A beautiful woman who didn’t need to be seduced by an emotionally unavailable guy who couldn’t give her the happily-ever-after she deserved.

  Swing. Thwack! Happy-for-now didn’t cut it for a woman as special as Sam. And that was all he could offer her. His job was his life. There was no room for anyone else in that equation. That was the way it had to be.

  Swing. Even if he wanted her, wanted her to stay with him...forever. Thunk.

  Damn.

  He sat back on his heels and sucked on the throbbing thumb he’d hammered. That mis-swing served as an excellent warning. When he let himself get distracted from the job at hand, people got hurt. People he cared about.

  He needed to keep away from Sam before he did something stupid, something he’d regret for the rest of his life. Like lose his heart to her. Again.

  From here on out, it would be just business. Logan returned to his hammering. Each thwack of the hammer striking the nail sang out the warning to him over and over.

  “Business.”

  “Business.”

  “Business.”

  “LOGAN?” I CALLED FROM the living room when I couldn’t take the nerves rattling around in my chest a moment longer.

  He stopped hammering. I liked how he did that. Whenever I wanted to talk with him, he’d stop what he was doing to pay attention to me. George either had his phone in his hands or his nose buried in one of his client’s reports and only ever listened with half an ear.

  “Yeah, Sam, what’s up?” he asked.

  “It’s my fiancé.”

  “What about him?” Logan wiped his hands on his jeans before testing the swing of the door. So much for having his full attention.

  “I’m worried. He hasn’t returned my call.”

  That got his attention back to me and my problem. He pivoted toward me.

  “You called him?”

  I nodded.

  “Sam, I told you that you couldn’t use your phone. It’s not secure.” He dredged a hand through his brown hair. “Okay, okay. No need to panic. I can fix this.” He hurried past me and headed straight to his bedroom.

  Confused, I followed.

  “We’ll have to find another location.” He started stuffing his clothes and belongings into his bags.

  “I didn’t use my phone.”

  He halted his crazed packing. “Then how did you try and contact him?”

  “I used your phone. The secure one.”

  He paused for a few seconds before nodding.

  “He’s not returned my call. And I’m worried. Do you think Global Tech sent a team of men after him?”

  “No,” he answered quickly.

  “You’d said they would do anything to find us. Why wouldn’t they go after him?”

  “Because they won’t.”

  “I thought you said they were dangerous.”

  “They are. According to the files Hart Security has compiled, even the CEO is a killer. But you don’t need to—”

  “Don’t you dare tell me not to be worried.” I wasn’t going to let him talk me out of my concern. “You keep your distance from your family because you’re worried a bad guy from your dangerous life might hurt them to get to you. I don’t have the luxury of doing that.”

  “You don’t,” he agreed. “And if you might recall from the family reunion at the bar”—he rubbed the bruise still visible on his jaw—”I’m not keeping my family away from me this time.”

  “But—”

  “Listen, I understand why you’re panicking. Trust me, I do. But Thacker promised to keep an eye on your family, and he’s damned good at his job. And he’s damned good at keeping his word. They’re safe...even your fiancé.”

  “Then why hasn’t he called?”

  “Because he’s an—” Logan pulled his hand through his hair again. “I don’t know, Sam.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip, biting hard to keep the budding tears from clouding my vision. “I-I...j-just don’t know what to think. I’m afraid that this-this fiasco has ruined my chances with him. He-he should have called me.”

  “Aw hell, Sam. Don’t cry.”

  He pulled me into the circle of his strong arms and pressed me close to him. His heat felt like a soothing balm.

  Poor Logan, if he wanted to keep me from crying, holding onto me like that—like I was the most precious thing in his world—wasn’t the way to go about it. For the second time in the day, I started to sob big ugly tears.

  The more he tightened his grip around me, the safer I felt. And the more I craved having him hold me forever. And that wasn’t going to happen.

  “Please don’t cry, Sam.” He rubbed his hands up and down my back. “Please, Sammy Jammy.”

  I don’t know if I raised my head first of if he dipped his. Perhaps we moved at the same time. Our lips touched. Unlike the first time we’d kissed, this time his caress of my mouth was like a question, both tentative and pleading. The tangy taste of Logan drew me closer to him.

  I clung to him while our mouths mated. My breath stuck in my throat. My thoughts focused only on the kiss. His kiss.

  And then I remembered George.

  How could I be kissing another man? What kind of woman did that?

  “
We...” I breathed.

  “Uh, huh...” He nibbled on my lips.

  “No, we...” I tried again.

  “Yes,” he managed to croak between kisses. “Yes.”

  I finally found the fortitude to press my hand against his chest. It took an even greater dose of willpower to peel my tingling lips from his. “No,” I panted. “We can’t. My fiancé. I need to find out what’s wrong. I need to know why he hasn’t called.”

  Though my mind kept telling me to leave it at that, I couldn’t stop myself from talking. I did that sometimes when I was nervous. I babbled. And this time was worse than usual. I kept explaining to Logan why we shouldn’t be kissing. Why it was wrong. Why we needed to focus on George.

  Logan held up his hands in surrender and said, “You’re right.”

  “I am?”

  He nodded. “We need to make sure your fiancé is okay.”

  He took my hand. It was sweet, really, how he twined his fingers with mine as we walked back into the living room. He then plopped down on the sofa as if nothing had happened between us and powered up his laptop. “Give me his phone number.”

  He tapped it into the laptop as I recited it. After a few seconds a map of Manhattan loaded. A large red dot popped up at one of George’s favorite restaurants.

  “His phone is there,” Logan said, pointing to the screen. “Do you recognize the location?”

  I did. “It’s Le Pesce. An Italian seafood restaurant. Does it mean he’s there?”

  “It means his phone is there. Hold on.” Logan tapped on the keyboard with lightning speed. A small black window popped up on the screen. “I’m hacking into his phone’s camera.”

  A moment later, George’s face appeared.

  And it looked as if he was staring at me.

  Me, who hadn’t fixed her makeup in hours and who was wearing shapeless gray sweats. Instinctively, I jerked away from the screen.

  “Don’t worry,” Logan said. “He can’t see us. We’re watching him”—he tapped a few more keys—“write an email to someone named...Julia.” He looked at me. “Julia. Do you know her?”

  “She’s his secretary.”

  “I see,” he said as if he saw more than what was visible on the screen in front of us.