by Jennie Marts
“We’ll see you at the next practice.” Judith waved, then walked to where Floyd was waiting with his bag by the door.
Logan turned to Chloe, who was Floyd’s teacher as well. “I feel so bad for that kid. Is it as rough for him as Judith makes it sound?”
“It’s not good. Floyd’s a sweetheart, but he’s been having some trouble lately. He keeps saying his mom should be out of jail now, and he’s expecting her to come get him, but she hasn’t shown up. And from what he says, I don’t think she’s had any contact with him since she was arrested.”
Logan’s chest tightened, memories surfacing of missing his own mother and the all-too-familiar feelings of abandonment, of being left behind. But Floyd was a great kid. He didn’t have a learning disability that took over his family’s life with extra tutoring and studying and spending hours working on exercises and trying to read the same books over and over again. She may have thought she was hiding it, but Logan could hear the frustration and exhaustion in his mom’s voice every time she had to sit with him to help him read. “Maybe some women aren’t cut out to be mothers.”
Chloe tilted her head. “Maybe. But his mom couldn’t have been that bad if she raised such a sweet kid. Or else his grandma had a lot of influence in his life. I can tell he loves Mrs. Benning, but he’s really missing his mom. I think he’s struggling with the fact she hasn’t tried to contact him at all.”
Anger and frustration swirled in Logan’s gut. He felt for the kid, and he pledged to spend more time with him at practice, just to give him a little extra attention and show him other people cared about him.
They finished getting the rest of the kids off, then Logan headed home. He spent the drive thinking about Floyd and mired in memories of his own mother who had abandoned him. He knew what the kid was feeling, and old hurts surfaced that he’d thought he’d laid to rest a long time ago. Old hurts that festered and stung like a fresh scab he’d picked.
Which was why he didn’t let himself get involved with women. It wasn’t worth the pain of them leaving you. And they did leave. They always left.
So what was he doing letting himself get swept up in something with Harper? She’d made no secret of the fact she was eventually leaving, so why even bother spending more time with her?
A good question. One he didn’t have a good answer for.
The house was dark when he got home, and he didn’t bother with the lights as he headed to the kitchen. The scent of peaches and cinnamon hung in the air, but his gut was a mess of queasy and upset. The thought of eating anything made his stomach roil.
He tossed back some antacids and drank a glass of water. Digging the chalky tablets out of his back teeth with his tongue, he leaned against the counter and determined to spend the better part of the next day in the barn or outside. Maybe he’d even take lunch in town at the diner. There was no point in pursuing this thing with Harper, so why make it worse on himself by spending any more time with her?
The decision made, he strode down the hall to get ready for bed. Restless, he wandered through his room as he brushed his teeth. From his window, he could see a faint light burning across the yard in the bunkhouse. What was she doing over there? Was she already in bed?
It was cold, and a light snow was falling. Maybe he should go over and check on her. Just in case she needed something, like maybe another blanket. Or another body to crawl in bed with her to keep her warm.
For someone who’d just vowed to keep his distance from the woman tomorrow, it hadn’t taken him long to renege on that promise tonight.
He picked up his phone. Maybe he’d just call her. Or send a text. There didn’t seem to be a lot of harm in a simple text.
No. Hold strong. He tossed the phone on the bed and walked away.
Chapter 15
A shiver ran down Harper’s back, and she snapped the book she was reading shut. Why had she thought it would be a good idea to read a suspense novel about a woman stranded on a ranch?
What was that? The hair on her arms rose as she swore she heard a noise outside the bunkhouse. She slid further under the covers, sure it was just her imagination.
Nope. There it was again. She was sure of it this time. There was something outside.
It sounded like something—or someone—had bumped or scraped the front of the house. Visions of a serial killer scratching his hand along the siding filled Harper’s mind.
But why would a serial killer be on the ranch? That didn’t make any sense. Not that serial killers made sense in the first place, but one being on this ranch did seem unlikely. It was probably the cats, except that it sounded too big to be a kitten. It might be a coyote or a raccoon.
She knew one thing. She wasn’t going to figure out what it was by hiding beneath the covers. Slipping from the bed, she snuck into the living room, leaving the lights off so she could see outside. Tiptoeing toward the door, she caught her breath as a shadow passed the window.
Holy crap. That wasn’t a cat. Or a raccoon.
It could be that rat bastard Ted coming back for revenge. Or, more than likely, he was drunk and had forgotten he didn’t live here anymore. Glancing around the room, she searched for a weapon.
They’d taken almost everything out of the room in their earlier attempts at cleaning up. The kitchen counters were practically bare as well. Except for the toaster, the coffee maker, and a crock filled with a meager number of utensils. So, unless she was going to offer him a slice of toast or a cup of Joe, those were out. And she didn’t think she could inflict much damage with a pancake turner.
But she had seen a cast-iron skillet in the oven. It would have to do in a pinch. She tiptoed across the hardwood floor, carefully eased open the oven, and pulled out the skillet.
Creeping back across the room, she peered out the front window. She couldn’t see who was in front of the door, but she could see a large shadow on the ground.
The shadow wasn’t moving. Maybe the light was playing tricks on her, and the shadow was from one of the chairs in front of the bunkhouse. She could be getting herself psyched out over a piece of porch furniture.
Only one way to find out. She put one hand on the doorknob and raised the skillet above her head with the other. Her heart pounded against her chest, but knowing what the heck was really out there had to be better than standing in here and imagining the worst. Serial killer or drunken farmhand, either way, they were about to get a frying pan to the face.
She yanked open the door and let out a primal yell. “Get out of here!”
Holy crap!
A man really was standing outside her door. Not a piece of furniture, but a tall man whose face was shadowed by a cowboy hat. Her scream must have startled him because he stumbled back and threw his hands in the air as if in surrender. “It’s just me, Logan.”
“Logan?” Harper squinted into the darkness as she lowered the skillet.
“Yes. Logan. The guy who lives in that big house across the driveway.”
“Holy smokes. You scared the crud out of me.”
“You scared the crud out of me.”
“I thought you were a serial killer. Or Ted.”
“A serial killer? What would a serial killer be doing out here? And if I were a serial killer, what were you planning to do with that skillet?”
“Whack you in the head with it, of course.”
He offered her an impish grin. “I wasn’t sure. Maybe you were going to offer to fry me some bacon. You do make great bacon.”
“Hey, don’t dis my weapon of choice. We cleaned this place out so well, there weren’t a lot of options left for defensive maneuvers. It was this or the toaster.”
He lifted one shoulder. “Then I’d say you made the only logical choice.”
“What are you doing out here anyway? Besides scaring ten years off my life.” She pressed a hand to her chest, suddenly acutely aware that she w
asn’t wearing a bra. In fact, she wasn’t wearing much of anything. Thank goodness her thermal shirt covered her butt, but just barely.
“I was checking on the animals and thought I’d check on you too. You know, as long as I was out.”
“I feel so special getting lumped in with a pig and a cow.”
His voice lowered and took on a flirty tone. “I was lumping you in with the kittens.”
Oh my. A hard rush of desire tore down her spine, and her nipples tightened when he’d said kittens. Dang, that man could make anything sound sexy. His eyes had just dropped to her chest, and from the look of hunger that filled them, she was pretty sure he’d figured out her braless status. “So why didn’t you just knock?”
“I didn’t want to bother you.”
“You just said you wanted to check on me.”
“I know. I did. But I also didn’t want to bother you.”
A gust of cold air blew across her legs, and she shivered as she took a step back. “So, are you coming in, or what? It’s freezing out there, and I don’t think my landlord wants me heating the whole outside.”
Logan tilted his head as if studying her. Apparently, he wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions, because she watched them all play across his face. His eyes, which had gone dark and flirty, changed to wary and suspicious. That wasn’t good. Why would he be suspicious of her?
Maybe he thought she was offering him more than a piece of toast. Heck, maybe she was. She might not be saying the words, but her body was calling out to his. Her breasts were aching and full and craving the feel of his large hands, and it was taking everything she had not to squirm from the tingles tightening there.
His expression changed once more to resolve as he shook his head. “Nah. I didn’t want to intrude. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and warm enough. I mean, that you had enough blankets.”
What should have been a relief at him not hitting on her—and hence her getting to keep her job—felt more like a letdown. “I’m okay. And I took an extra blanket from the house, so I’m plenty warm. Or I was.” Oops. Her body must have felt that rejection and turned it into a little snark. She’d better get herself in check and remember why the last woman had lost this job.
“Oh yeah, well, I’ll let you get back to bed.” He took a step back, then another forward again. “Oh, and I also wanted to tell you that I’m taking lunch in town tomorrow. At the diner. And I plan to get an early start, so you don’t have to worry about me for breakfast either. I’ll just grab some coffee and a leftover biscuit or something. So you can sleep in, if you want.”
She jerked her head back. “Sleep in? You don’t pay me to sleep in.” Uh-oh. She needed to get this conversation back on track. Logan wasn’t a cute cowboy stopping by for a flirty booty call. He was her employer, and the only lifeline she had to getting Floyd back. She needed to tread carefully. And to remind him why he needed her. “I’ll make sure the coffee is on when you get up, and I can fry an egg to stick in that biscuit. Then I’ll spend the morning working on cleaning the house and taking care of laundry. I’m planning to do a pot roast with brown gravy and mashed potatoes for supper. And I was going to make my grandma’s recipe for yeast rolls. Does that sound good?”
His expression softened. “That sounds great. What would I do without you?”
Let’s not find out, she thought as she said good night and shut the door.
* * *
What an idiot.
Logan couldn’t believe Harper had caught him lurking outside her front door. Well, not exactly lurking. He’d been getting ready to knock. He’d just been working up to it for a good five minutes. No wonder she’d been freaked out.
Then he’d been freaked out. He hadn’t expected her to answer the door brandishing a skillet, and he dang sure hadn’t expected her to be bare-legged, wearing nothing but a thermal shirt. A shirt that hugged her curves and clung to her full breasts. The hem of the shirt barely covered her ass, and it took an enormous amount of willpower not to press her against the door and kiss her thoroughly as he explored every inch of skin that shirt covered.
Her dark hair was down and had that messy-sexy look as it curled around her shoulders, and he imagined the way it would look spread across his pillows.
She set something off inside him, something that made him want to flirt with her, to win her over with his charm and coax that sexy smile onto her face. He’d earned it with that kitten comment, but then she’d caught him dropping his gaze to her chest. The thin white shirt only emphasized the curves of her ample breasts, and her rigid nipples told him she either liked the flirting or she was freezing. Either way, he appreciated the view, and his mouth went dry at the thought of sucking one of the tight, hardened nubs into his mouth.
Then she’d made that “landlord” crack, and reality had crashed into him. He was her boss. What the hell was he doing showing up at her doorstep after dark? He’d said he was checking on the animals, but he hadn’t checked anything. He’d made a beeline for her front door, then stood there like a doofus trying to get up the courage to knock.
This woman was getting to him, and it had to stop. He’d made the right decision in telling her he wouldn’t be around for breakfast or lunch. He hoped she’d stay in bed, and he could avoid seeing her at all tomorrow, but danged if she didn’t offer to still get up and make him coffee. And a breakfast sandwich.
He stomped through the house and into his bedroom, trying to avoid looking out the window. He stripped down to his boxer briefs and snuck one glance as he slid into bed. The bunkhouse was dark. She must have gone to sleep.
Now if only he could do the same.
* * *
The next day, Logan kept his pledge and spent most of the day either in the barn or the pasture. At least his body did. His mind kept sneaking into the house and trying to imagine what Harper was doing.
Zane had shown up early, and they’d taken a truckload of hay out to the cattle. Although Logan appreciated the other man’s strength and strong work ethic, he missed the laughing and joking around from when he’d done the task with Harper. Zane was congenial and cracked the occasional dry joke, but for the most part, he was the silent, contemplative type and didn’t talk much. But Logan hadn’t hired him to chat. He’d hired him to help take care of his herd. And that’s what he’d been doing. And then some. Zane had spent an hour working with the new horse, then taken the tractor and transported huge, round hay bales out to different areas of the pastures.
Which gave Logan more time to moon over the woman folding laundry in his living room. He’d had lunch at the diner, but he couldn’t avoid the house forever, he thought as he gathered the day’s mail and carried it back to the house. But he could shut himself in the den and spent the latter part of the afternoon getting some work done. Except that he hadn’t exactly shut himself in. The door was still partially open, and he was acutely aware of Harper’s presence moving around the house.
He couldn’t seem to focus as he used the letter opener to slice open the stack of envelopes. Was she singing Christmas carols? Or maybe that was the radio.
He absently pulled the letters from the envelopes—bill, bill, junk, church bulletin, junk…wait. What was this? He unfolded the red sheet of paper. It was a flyer for the Creedence Christmas Celebration, but why did it have his name written at the top, then crossed off? Who would send him this?
He reached for the envelope and turned it over just as a knock sounded at the door and Harper poked her head in.
“Hey, it’s starting to snow, and I thought I’d make some hot chocolate. Could I bring you a cup?” The smile on her face turned to alarm when she saw the letter clutched in his hand. “Is that my mail?”
He looked down at the envelope and realized it was clearly addressed to Harper Evans. “Oh shit. Sorry. I was just opening the stack and didn’t realize it was addressed to you.”
She
twisted her hands together in front of her. “Yeah, I was going to tell you I was expecting something. I just thought I’d be the one to grab the mail.” She held out her hand, but wouldn’t look him directly in the eyes. “Can I have it, please?”
“Oh sure. Of course. I’m so sorry I opened it.” He passed her the flyer and the envelope.
She took the papers and folded them together, then stuffed them in the back pocket of her jeans. “It’s no problem.”
“Harper?”
“Yeah.”
She still wouldn’t look at him, and he had a pretty good idea of what was going on now. “I noticed my name was on the top of that flyer. Were you going to invite me to go to the Christmas Celebration with you?”
Her eyes widened, then she slowly nodded. “Yep. I sure was. That’s exactly why I mailed this flyer here.” She took a step back as if trying to slink out of the room. “But then I got too embarrassed. It was a dumb idea anyway. Let’s just forget about it.”
“Wait. I don’t think it’s such a dumb idea.”
She stopped, her hand on the doorknob. “You don’t?”
“No. In fact, I think it’s a great idea. I wasn’t sure if I was going to go this year, since my dad’s not around. He’s the one who likes us to make an appearance. Which is weird, because he’s this gruff ol’ cowboy, yet he participates in the Reindeer Roundup and the Holly-Jolly Huckleberry Pie-eating contest every year.” Logan shook his head, surprised at the twinge of melancholy he felt over his father missing the celebration, and at how much he was missing his dad. “Anyway, I figured I’d skip it because I didn’t want to go solo, but it might be fun for us to go together. Especially since you’ve never been.”
“Oh-kay. That sounds good. And it does look like a fun event.”
“It is. It’s a little hokey, but it has booths and games, and they have a live band and a little dancing.”
