by Lex Martin
By the time it was just my grandma, Silas, and me, I could almost block out the bad things that had happened there.
I roll down the window, needing air.
“Hey.” Logan grabs my hand, but I keep my head turned because I can’t look at him when I’m this close to the edge. “Sorry, Jo. I figured Silas told you, or I would’ve.” He squeezes my hand. “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out together. My mom and Ethan will know what to do.”
This is why Logan has always been my person. He swoops in to punch my bullies and rescue me out of wells.
Why can’t I just love you like a friend? It would make my life so much less complicated.
When he talks like this, I can almost forget what happened at Christmas time.
Like someone slams the brakes, my heart lurches at the memory.
I want to ask him why he said the things he did. Why he cleaved my heart in two. But if I do, that would prove his point—that I’m clingy and have no life—and I still have a little pride left that prevents me from laying it all out there, especially with Patrick hanging on our every word. Granted, I was never meant to overhear Logan’s conversation on the River Walk, but that doesn’t make it hurt less.
Yes, I want to apologize to Logan for not communicating with him more. I never meant for him to worry. At the time, I wondered if he’d even care, but now I know those were my emotions talking. I was so hurt, and that pain blinded me from the obvious—that he cares… as a friend. A friend who needs space.
Grim, still feeling like someone kicked my puppy, I hold out as long as I can before I start sneaking glances at him as he drives.
I take in his rugged good looks. His messy hair that dangles over his eyes and makes him roguishly flirty. That perfect nose and square jaw that’s lightly dusted with stubble. Those sexy lips I’ve longed to feel against my skin. His tanned forearms roped in muscle.
I could go on and on, but enumerating his handsome physical attributes is only making this worse.
Pulling up to the ranch brings an unexpected smile to my face. Even the old wooden sign makes me happy: Carter Cutting Horses, est. 1960.
Logan and his brother raise, train, and compete champion cutters, horses that are used alongside cattle to “cut” one from the herd if it’s injured. They inherited the business from their father when he passed away several years ago. Ethan was graduating from college at the time, and Logan was a senior in high school.
I slide out of the truck and stare at the beautiful house that sits surrounded by acres and acres of farmland and fenced-off areas for horses.
Although I’ve always said I live next door to the Carters, it’s more like two lots over, and since their property is ginormous, it’s a good twenty-minute walk. My grandmother’s house looks more like a shack compared to this ranch, but Bev and her family never treated me like a charity case. Even though I was.
Logan motions toward the barn as we head up the walkway. “Wanna ride Cinnamon Pie some time? She misses you.”
The mention of my favorite horse banishes the gloom that had settled over me on the drive here. “Heck, yes, I do.”
Patrick laughs along the other side of me and tosses his arm over my shoulder. “I love how you don’t curse. It’s so cute.”
What every girl wants to hear. How cute I am. Pint-sized. Adorable. The little sister they always wanted.
I roll my eyes and shove his arm off me. “You won’t think I’m so cute if I knee you in the balls.”
The boys snort, and I’m chuckling when Logan pulls me to his chest, so that my back rests against him. I’m expecting another chokehold, because somewhere in that dense head of his, he thinks I’m his peanut-sized MMA partner, but he keeps his forearm gently pressed to my collarbone. Almost like… like he’s holding me.
I will myself to take a deep breath in hopes it’ll stop my heart from pounding out of my body.
“See. My best friend.” Logan’s voice, low and grumbling in my ear, makes goosebumps break out on my skin.
For a moment, I’m so confused how this could be the same person who said those things about me. If he needs space, why is he being so affectionate? Did he really miss me that much? Did he have a change of heart?
Like this, it’s easy to appreciate his incredible physique and strength. Against me, his stomach flexes, and I don’t have to strain my imagination to envision that crazy eight-pack. Logan is a lean, athletic machine.
And so dang sexy.
I want to close my eyes and relish being in his arms, but I’m already too close to purring and rubbing against his leg like a stray cat.
Coughing, I extract myself from Logan and Patrick’s pissing contest and head into the house.
He’s just taunting Patrick. That didn’t mean anything. It never does.
The moment I’m inside, Mila sees me from the kitchen and screams. Ethan’s seven-year-old daughter races toward me and jumps into my arms, nearly sending both of us hurtling to the floor.
“I missed you sooo much, Joey!” she squeals in my ear.
“Missed you too, munchkin.”
Another set of arms wrap around my waist, and Cody, Mila’s little brother, grins up at me.
“Dude. You’re covered in chocolate.”
His smile widens as he presses his face into my shirt. Ugh. Gross.
I laugh and squeeze the kids, overwhelmed by how excited I am to see their sweet faces. I’ve known them since they were babies. Held them in my arms as infants. Changed their diapers and patched up boo-boos.
Mila’s hair is longer, and Cody is so big, I swear he swallowed a tree.
I’ve never been gone this long without seeing them, and the realization of how much I missed in those six months sends a sharp twinge to my heart. That knife twists when I consider how much more I’ll lose when I head back to Florida like I’ve planned.
Because, really, what are the odds that I tell Logan about my feelings for him and he sweeps me off my feet and tells me he loves me too? Only in the movies. I might be naive, but I’m not dumb.
Blinking back a whirlwind of emotion, I squeeze the kids tighter.
“Good to have you back, Joey,” a deep voice calls out to me.
I grin up at Ethan, who’s always been like an older brother to me. He’s four years older than Logan, and where Logan is the wild, party boy, Ethan is the stalwart family man.
I drag the kids with me to greet their dad, and then I’m the one squealing when I see my friend Tori.
“There’s my maid of honor.” She hauls me to her for a quick hug, somehow managing to avoid the chocolate. She grimaces when she gets a closer look at my clothes. “Codybug, please apologize for sliming this girl with pudding.”
“Sorry, Aunt Jojo.” Two dimples pop out on his chubby cheeks.
The little booger doesn’t look the least bit apologetic. I laugh and brush those thick blond locks out of his face and kiss his forehead. “It’s okay, dude. I’m not gonna melt.”
He’ll be four next month, but you’d never guess it from his height. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. The Carter men are all over six feet tall.
“I huwt my arm.” He holds it up to me for my inspection.
“Aww, sorry, buddy.” I kiss his elbow for safe measure.
Behind me, a throat clears. “Hey, Joey,” Patrick calls out. “I have a booboo too that’s swollen. Been keeping me up at night. But kisses might make it feel better.”
I turn in time to catch Logan elbow his friend in the gut, and Tori snickers. She loops her arm in mine and pulls me down the hall. “Come on. Let’s get you changed.”
Once we’re out of earshot of the boys, I tug Tori to a stop. Shame, hot and familiar, flushes my cheeks. “I need to do laundry,” I whisper. “I’m not sure I have anything clean to wear.”
After giving my cousin a huge down payment for our new business, I didn’t have much left. I had to work overtime last week so I could scrounge the money to afford this trip and didn’t have time to wash anything.
With the exception of some underwear, everything in my suitcase is dirty. I thought laundry would be the first thing I’d do when I arrived at my grandma’s house.
Which your brother sold. You have some real winners in the family, Jo.
Tori shrugs. “No prob. I’m sure I have something you can borrow.”
In her bedroom, she digs around her dresser and tosses me a tank top and jean shorts. Because I have chocolate handprints on my rear too.
I eye the clothes in my hands warily. Tori is taller than I am, but I have more junk in the trunk. “Not sure I’m gonna be able to squeeze into your shorts.”
“Try them. If not, I’ll find some sweat pants or something. It’s just so hot.”
In the ensuite bathroom, I change into her clothes and then go wide-eyed when I catch myself in the mirror. “Tor, I can’t go out in this!”
She sticks her head in, looks me over, and gives me a thumbs up. “Looking good, mama.”
“My boobs are gonna pop out of this top if I bend over too far.”
She scoffs. “You’re fine. You have a great body, and it’s not like you’re prancing around in a bikini on your way to church.” When she senses my turmoil, a worried expression crosses her face. “I need to do my own laundry or I’d offer you something else. I can grab you one of Ethan’s t-shirts if you’re really uncomfortable.”
For some reason, wearing another man’s clothes feels weird. Especially when they belong to my friend’s fiancée.
“This is fine.” I don’t want to be any trouble.
She gives me a reassuring smile and then glances at the bedroom door behind her. “Didn’t mean to throw you under the bus earlier by having Logan pick you up, but Cody had an earache that wouldn’t go away, and I had to take him to the pediatrician.”
“It’s okay. I appreciate the ride. Is Cody okay?”
After she assures me Cody is fine, she studies me a second. “Did you guys talk on the way over here?”
I know she wants Logan and me to resolve our issues, which are basically my issues. “Not really. He kinda said we could let bygones be bygones, and we left things at that.”
Nodding, she reaches for me and gives me a big hug. “I’m not pushing you one way or the other, but I do think you’ll feel better if you tell him what happened and clear the air.”
When she lets me go, we sit at the edge of her bed. “You’re probably right, but if I tell him what happened at Christmas, then I have to tell him everything else, and that’s hard for me. It’s embarrassing.” And pathetic. I’m quiet for a moment. “I didn’t mean to hurt him when I left. I was upset and confused.”
“I was upset when you told me what happened too. It’s a miracle I didn’t maim him on your behalf.” She gives me another reassuring squeeze. “And you don’t have to be embarrassed. You feel how you feel. There’s no shame in caring about your best friend. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, and he’s damn lucky to have you by his side.”
My face flames, and I laugh awkwardly. Sometimes I still feel like that gawky teenager who doesn’t always know how to talk to people.
“If I haven’t told you lately, I’m really honored to be in your wedding.” I bump her shoulder with mine. “Thank God Logan made Ethan hire you that summer.” Tori and I became fast friends when she came to work at the ranch two years ago.
“If you’d told me on the day I interviewed that I’d be marrying Ethan Carter, I’d have laughed in your face.”
She swears she hated him when they met, but I think it was lust at first sight with a heaping side of denial.
“And now you’re getting married!”
We look at each other and squeal like maniacs.
While my own love life is a train wreck, I couldn’t be happier for Tori and Ethan. Tori is like a sister, and Ethan’s always treated me better than my own brother.
Our powwow is interrupted when Mila calls for her in the other room.
“I gotta go make sure no one is burning down the house, but are you sure you’re okay with my clothes?”
“Sure. Yeah.” I mean, I think I am.
“Trust me when I say you look beautiful.” She trots off with my soiled shirt and shorts to toss them in the laundry, and I take a minute to wash my hands and face in the bathroom because I feel grimy after that bus ride.
Staring at my reflection, I tug on my top to stretch it a little. I work out enough that I’m toned everywhere I should be, but showing this much skin makes me nervous from years of being told horrible things by my parents.
I shake my head, hating that I’m being dramatic. Tori wears tanks all the time, and she looks fine. My boobs aren’t that much bigger. I just… won’t bend over. And I’ll probably be sitting most of the time for dinner this evening, so it’s not like anyone will even notice my rear.
I can do this. No one here cares what I’m wearing.
I almost smile at the rebellion. If my father could see me now, he’d break out his shotgun to scare off any boys who looked in my direction.
Of course, he’d have to actually be here to do that.
And degenerate fathers who ditch their families don’t get a say in what their daughters wear.
Straightening my shirt, I make up my mind.
I’m done living by other people’s rules.
5
Logan
We’re shooting the shit in the kitchen, sitting around the bar when, three big gulps into my iced tea, I choke.
What is Joey wearing?
At first, all my monkey brain can process is skin. Golden skin. Smooth planes with faint freckles. And curves. So many fucking curves.
Despite my hacking cough, I still manage to ogle the woman, who’s now decked out in what have to be Tori’s clothes. Because I have never seen Joey put so much on display. Even when we go swimming, she always wears a giant T-shirt over her suit.
I’m not judging. Women should wear whatever they want. I’m not some Neanderthal. I’m just not used to my friend in this context. The limited clothing context.
As I stare at her, two words come to mind: Mouthwatering tits. Damn, she’s stacked.
Is it hot in here? I take one more gulp of my tea, feeling like I got struck in the face by a two-by-four. How have I not ever noticed that my best friend is alarmingly attractive? It’s like my head always knew this, but the rest of me is only now catching on.
Awkwardly, she tugs at her tank, to pull it away from her stomach. She’s shy, and judging from the flush crawling up her neck, she’s feeling it now too.
I wonder where else she gets flushed.
Not cool, dude.
I’m about to turn away when I catch a glimpse of her round little ass in those snug shorts. Fuck me.
My cock agrees with a hearty nod.
Clenching my eyes shut, I think of all the disgusting things I can. Like that time Patrick puked up eggs through his nose after going on a bender. Or how much horse shit I have to shovel when one of our ranch hands calls in sick. Or when my nephew crapped all over my lap when he was two.
Better.
My dick stands down enough that I can lean back in my seat, but now I’m wary. Joey and I have spent tons of time together over the years, and I’ve never been so affected by her presence.
Is that why I was acting like a tool out on the front stoop, grabbing her and telling Patrick to piss off? I’ve been a dick to him all day for no good reason, except maybe he’s right… I’m feeling territorial about Joey. More than my typical BFF concerns.
I’m gonna need something stronger than tea to wrap my head around this.
Sure, I’ve missed her. Been upset with her for disappearing on me. Wanted to straighten things between us, but the thoughts hurtling through my brain have more to do with exploring that tight little body rather than reuniting with an old pal.
And that’s a line I’ve never crossed. But given how my friends and family constantly encourage the “Team LoJo” relationship, it’s no wonder my thoughts are going haywir
e.
I’ve had her firmly placed in the little sister category for so long that even when she grew curves, I’ve always tried to ignore it.
Except…
Except for that one spring.
A flash of a memory from my senior year breaks out of the box I keep all the shit from that time locked down.
Of her laughing. Of us talking in the barn. She was only fourteen and so fucking beautiful. It was always her eyes that got me. Pierced me down to my soul—the way she looked at me. The way she trusted me.
And as someone once pointed out, women should never trust me.
No, the year my father passed away changed everything, and there’s no going back.
Angrily, I thrust my hand into my hair and lock the past away where it’s been for the last eight years.
“We need food!” Mila chants, and I pause my mental bullshit long enough to give my niece a noogie.
This thing with Joey will pass. I’m just tired. Been working seventy-hour weeks, here at the farm and at a side gig that’s not such a side gig anymore.
Something’s gotta give.
My sanity, it appears.
About an hour later, we’re all settling around a mountain of food at the dining room table—the kids, Ethan, Tori, Joey, Patrick, and myself—when the front door creaks open and my mother yells, “Is she here?”
The moment Mom spots Joey, Beverly Carter’s in motion again. Our very own whirling dervish is a silver-blonde ball of energy with a dust cloud behind her feet. My old fears subside as I study my mother’s level of energy. She’s having a good day.
“Darlin’, you are a sight for sore eyes!” My mom collides with Joey in a fierce hug, beaming with delight.
Over the years, I’m pretty sure Mom wanted to trade one of us in for Jo.
I reach for the bowl of mashed potatoes before I hand it to Patrick, who takes the seat next to me. When he’s done, I scoop some onto my nephew’s plate and then push Cody closer to the table so he doesn’t end up with food all over his lap.
Leaning over to him, I whisper, “You feeling better, little dude? Heard you had to go to the doctor.”
