by Gina Wilkins
But the groom-to-be shook his head with a weak smile. “No. I want to marry Becca. Just a little stage fright, I guess. I’m not comfortable standing up and talking in front of people.”
Glancing at the chairs slowly filling in front of the gazebo, Logan said, “Doesn’t look like you invited hundreds of guests.”
“No. We decided on a smallish wedding, just close friends and relatives.”
“Then it’s no big deal, right? Just look at your bride and forget about everyone else.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that. The place looks really nice, by the way. Becca wanted it to look like a fairyland, and I guess that’s what you gave her with all those candles and little lights.”
“Thanks, but I just put the stuff where I was told to. Al— Er, your wedding planner is the one who came up with all the plans for decorations.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty good, huh? I didn’t know why we needed a planner at all. I told Becca I thought we could put it all together ourselves, since we didn’t want anything too elaborate. But I’ve got to admit Alexis made everything a lot easier for us. She took care of the flowers and the musicians and photographers and stuff. She helped everyone find the right clothes and accommodations and she negotiated some pretty good prices for us on stuff. I’m real glad we decided to work with her.”
“She’s worked several events here. Everyone seems to leave satisfied afterward.”
It was the most he would allow himself to praise her, but he’d made his point. Alexis was good at her job, despite the occasional silly request, which he supposed he should blame more on her clients than on her.
“Man, I can’t believe this day is finally here,” Tate said, sounding a little dazed. “We were supposed to get married two years ago, but I was in a bad car accident right after we got engaged, before we even had a chance to set a date.”
Logan wasn’t quite sure what to say. “I hadn’t heard that. You’re okay now, I guess?”
The groom smiled crookedly and only then did Logan notice that one side of the guy’s face didn’t move quite the same as the other. “I had what they call a TBI—a traumatic brain injury. Becca stood by me every minute, even when it looked bad. I had to learn to walk and talk and stuff again. Kind of why I’m still a bit shaky talking in front of people.”
“You’re talking fine to me,” Logan pointed out, impressed by how far the slightly younger guy had come.
“I still stammer a little when I get nervous, but it’ll be okay. Just as long as we make it legal. The whole time I was working to get better, this was my goal, to make Becca my wife.” Unashamedly emotional, the guy swiped at his eyes with the back of one hand. “Sorry. Still struggle with a little lability.”
Logan shrugged, typically uncomfortable with the display of sentiment but thinking no less of the guy for showing it. “You’re not the only groom who’s gotten emotional before the big event.”
Tate’s pocket buzzed and he pulled out a phone and checked the screen. “I’m being summoned. Thanks again for putting up all those little pink and yellow lights for Becca. It’s just what she likes.”
Nodding, Logan held out a hand. “Congratulations. And good luck.”
Tate shook his hand with a broad grin that was no less contagious because of the asymmetry. “Thanks. I figure I’ve been given a second chance. I’m not going to mess it up.”
A second chance. Logan stood for several long minutes without moving after the groom hurried off, replaying those words in his mind. He turned away as the ceremony began, uncharacteristically aware of his slight limp when he moved toward his cottage.
* * *
Alexis sometimes thought her cat could read her mind, which was a rather spooky feeling. Fiona seemed to know Sunday afternoon that Logan was expected, and that Alexis had invited him to bring Ninja, if he wanted. The cat wandered restlessly through the house, meowing and looking at the door as if impatient for it to open, even though she was an indoor-only cat who never wanted out. As restless as the cat, Alexis busied herself in the kitchen making brownies to offer Logan when he arrived. She had just taken them out of the oven when the doorbell chimed. Fiona scrabbled on the tile kitchen floor, then dashed toward the living room.
Ninja greeted Alexis with a nuzzle and a cheery rumble, then trotted off to play with Fiona, who was already winding around him and rubbing her head against him. The little gray cat was dwarfed by the dog, but it was obvious that she considered them equals and friends.
Alexis looked at Logan with a laugh. “That could be the oddest couple ever.”
“They are definitely unique,” he agreed, closing the door behind him. “The house smells good.”
“I made brownies. And coffee. Want some?”
He gazed down at her with a gleam in his hazel eyes. “Maybe later.”
Okay, so things felt a bit more normal now. He wasn’t here to make small talk or share confidences or any of those other little niceties that would make them feel like an established couple. It was just as it had always been before their anomalous trip to Seattle had left her worried about changing expectations—though she wasn’t sure if she’d been more concerned about his or her own. She assured herself she was quite relieved, actually, that he didn’t want to change anything.
She stepped into his arms and lifted her face to him. “I think Fiona and Ninja would like to be alone for a while.”
“Do you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then by all means.”
She sputtered in surprise and laughter when he swept her into his arms and carried her toward the bedroom.
He was already hard and ready by the time he tumbled her onto the bed, his hands busily tugging at her shirt and jeans.
“Wow,” she said when she emerged from the shirt he swept over her head, dislodging her glasses along with it. She set them quickly aside.
Logan’s grin could definitely be described as roguish. “It’s been a very long time.”
She could have replied that two weeks wasn’t such a long time. That they’d gone longer than that in the past without seeing each other. But the thing was, these past two weeks had seemed very long to her, too. And she was just as eager to get him out of his clothes.
As always, passion flared quickly between them when they finally lay skin to skin. Still, Logan slowed his movements, taking time to savor, appreciate, pleasure. He was always a generous lover, but there seemed to be a new element to his caresses tonight. A tenderness that took her off guard, that brought a hard lump to her throat even as his clever fingers drove her to the point of dazed incoherence.
She had to make a concerted effort to regain some control, to push against his shoulders and roll him onto his back to grant her lips access to his throat, his chest and lower. She ran her hands over him, tracing muscle and bone, planes and angles, sleek skin and scars. Loving every inch of him she touched.
Her hands froze as the word echoed discordantly in her mind. Loving? No. She appreciated him. She was wildly attracted to him. She liked him very much. But that was all there was to it. All she would allow it to be.
Taking advantage of her sudden stillness, he rolled her beneath him, his mouth seeking hers, his tongue plunging to tangle with hers. She pushed semantics aside, choosing instead to focus solely on the physical.
He cupped her face between his hands as he pushed into her. She felt the tremors running through his fingers, the rigidity of the muscles beneath her palms, both signs of the fierce control he exerted. She wrapped herself around him, urging him on, moving her mouth more feverishly against his until his restraint broke and he swept them both into madness.
She had no idea how much time passed before she could think clearly again, before her heart returned to a somewhat regular rhythm. Logan was still breathing a little heavily, but his eyes were open when she turned onto her
right side to look at him. His mouth curved in a satisfied smile. She adjusted her pillow beneath her right cheek to more comfortably study him.
“So it really was a long two weeks, hmm?” she asked, her voice husky.
He put his right arm behind his head, sprawling unself-consciously nude against her tumbled sheets, his left leg bent up at the knee next to her. “You have no idea.”
Laughing softly, she said, “And then I came along with the blue-light kerfuffle to top off your day.”
He chuckled. “The blue-light kerfuffle?”
“Followed by the white-rose episode. Although that was more Ninja’s fault than mine.”
“Dumb dog,” he said indulgently.
“Oh, he’s far from dumb. In fact, he seems a little too intent on making it clear that he knows me better than we’ve let on.”
Logan shrugged. “It’s not like he can talk.”
She glanced toward the doorway. “I wouldn’t be particularly surprised if he could.”
He gave an exaggerated sigh and shook his head. “He’s a dog.”
“Yes. A very strange and special dog, like my strange and special cat.”
He laughed softly.
She ran her hand affectionately along his raised leg, over hair and tendon and scars. “Ready for brownies and coffee now?”
There was a short silence before he replied, and for some reason she didn’t think he was considering the merits of dessert. But whatever had distracted him, he shook it off and said, “Yeah, that sounds good. Where’d my pants land?”
Giggling, she reached for her robe.
Chapter Ten
Fully dressed, Logan joined her in the kitchen a short time later. He glanced at their pets, who were companionably enjoying treats in one corner of the kitchen, then took a seat at the table. “Spoiling my dog again?”
She smiled and set a plate of brownies and a cup of coffee in front of him. “He thinks I’m spoiling you.”
“So you have been talking to him?”
“I can read his expressions,” she retorted, serving herself a brownie and sinking into a chair.
“Now you sound like Bonnie.” He sipped his coffee, then put down his cup, his expression suddenly serious.
She cocked her head, sensing that there was something he wanted to say. “What?”
“When we were in bed a few minutes ago—you brushed the scars on my leg with your hand.”
“Yes—I’m sorry, does that bother you?”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t bother me. Some other people have been turned off by them, though.”
“Seriously? They don’t bother me, other than how I hate thinking of the pain you must have felt when you got them.”
“You’ve never asked questions about them.”
“I never thought you wanted to talk about it,” she said with a light shrug, wondering where this was going. “You told me it was a sports injury from college, and I figured that was all I needed to know.”
“It started with an injury the day after I turned twenty-one,” he confirmed. “I broke my leg playing rugby. It was when they were treating the break that the doctors discovered a tumor.”
She dropped the brownie she’d just picked up. “A tumor? You mean...cancer?”
He nodded, his eyes dark with memories. “It was on the bone. I had surgery to remove the tumor, another operation later to make some repairs, but at least I didn’t have to lose the leg. I had to have chemotherapy—which meant I lost my hair for a while and lost a ridiculous amount of weight.”
Wide-eyed, she looked at his thick, dark hair, at the muscles that strained against his T-shirt. No wonder he was so into health and fitness now. “I...had no idea” was all she could think of to say.
“As you guessed, I don’t much like to talk about it. My sisters don’t mention it because they know I’d rather they didn’t. It’s not like it’s a state secret, but it was a part of my life I prefer not to dwell on.”
“I can understand that.” It must have been a horrible time—for him, for his sisters, for his mother and great-uncle and others who had loved him. “Were you... Was your life in danger?”
“Fortunately it was caught very early because of the sports injury. The cancer hadn’t yet spread, which would have made survival less likely. Worst part was an infection that set in after the second operation. I was pretty sick for a while, but obviously I recovered. I’m completely well now, just have to check in with a doctor once a year, but all my reports are clean. I’ve passed the ten-year survival mark, which is a big deal. The limp will be with me for life, but considering the alternatives, that’s a fairly minor annoyance.”
“No kidding.” She understood a little better why he didn’t like talking about the past. But why was he telling her all of this now?
“You asked about my leg once in Seattle,” he said as if he’d sensed her question. “I put you off then, because I didn’t want to talk about it in a coffee shop. But I can understand why you’d be curious about the scars, so I figured now was as good a time as any to tell you about it.”
“Does it still hurt you?”
He shook his head. “Gets a little sore every once in a while when I overuse it, and sometimes I swear I can tell when it’s going to rain, but it doesn’t hold me back from what I want to do.”
“I always just accepted you’d messed up the leg in a sports accident. Considering the scars and the limp, I assumed it was a really bad break and I figured you’d been though a lot of pain with it. I had no idea you’re a cancer survivor.”
He shrugged and picked up his brownie, avoiding her searching eyes. “Injury, cancer. Doesn’t change who I am.”
She couldn’t help wondering how much it changed who he had been before. Had he emerged from the ordeal with inner scars as well as outer ones? Had he always been somewhat solitary, blunt-spoken and occasionally cranky, or had the illness reinforced that side of him? Now that she’d learned a little more about him, she found herself even more curious than she’d been before.
“You were so young.”
“The type of cancer I had is most common in young males. Actually, I was on the upper end of the typical age range.”
“I know your family must have been a great source of support for you during that time.”
“Of course. My mom was there every step of the way. Kinley was in college herself, and she got into the habit of studying in my room to keep me company when I was too weak to get up. Bonnie was a senior in high school. She took over most of the housework and cooking so Mom could keep her job and still take care of me. No surprise, Bonnie’s always been happy to cook and clean and do domestic-type things.”
No wonder he and his sisters were so close now—not just because they were the only family they had left, but because they knew how lucky they were to still have each other. “And your dad?” she asked tentatively, knowing she was stepping onto shaky ground. “Was he there for you?”
“Financially, yes,” he said after a hesitation. “He made sure I didn’t lack for anything, that Mom stayed afloat with the bills. I think he pretty much sent us everything he made for a couple of years, holding back just enough to let him eat and have a roof of sorts over his head. He came to see me a couple times. He was living in South America then, so it wasn’t such a long commute. But each time, he said he couldn’t stay long because he thought it was more important to get back to work and provide income than to sit by my bedside.”
He drew a breath and pushed a hand through his hair. “Truth was, he’s the type who doesn’t deal well with illness. During that year, I learned it’s not such an uncommon trait.”
“Your friends?”
“Friends. Fiancée. They were young, active, couldn’t deal with it. A few buddies hung in there with me. Some of them are still goo
d friends today, though we live in different areas. I’ve got some friends here. A couple of guys I met during my summers here when I was growing up, some I’ve met through them and in pickup sports at the park. As you know, I don’t have a lot of spare time to hang out, but I try to meet up with some of them at least once a month or so. None of them know about the cancer, so they don’t treat me any different than they do any of the other guys. I don’t mention it because the reactions are so often weird—people either treat me like I’m possibly contagious, or like some sort of damned hero just because I didn’t die.”
She tucked the word fiancée away to think about later. Actually maybe she’d think about all of this later, after she’d had time to process it. “You’ve made a good life for yourself now.”
“I have. All in all, I’m a lucky guy.”
She glanced at his dog, who was curled on a black-and-white kitchen rug with her cat snoozing on top of him, and she couldn’t help but smile faintly at the sight. “Ninja’s a lucky guy, too, to have wandered into your yard.”
Logan chuckled. He looked greatly relieved that she’d changed the subject so matter-of-factly. “Yeah. Ninja and I have got it good, don’t we, pal?”
Without opening his eyes, the dog thumped his tail on the floor.
Logan wiped his mouth on a paper napkin and drained his coffee. “That was good, Alexis. Thanks.”
Putting all heavy topics behind them, she stood to clear the table, winking at him when she said, “You’re welcome. I know certain activities make you hungry.”
He caught her around the waist before she’d even realized he’d risen from the chair. Spinning her into his arms, he planted a hard kiss on her lips, then raised his head with a wicked grin. “I’m always hungry around you. Just not necessarily for food.”
She laughed, gave him a little nip on his chin, then slipped out of his arms. “You silver-tongued devil, you.”
“Can’t say I’ve been called that before.”
She smiled over her shoulder as she set their plates in the sink. “Maybe I just bring out the glib side of you.”
