“No. I’m taking Macey time.”
I go back to the couch and sit down with my latest afghan, a harmless blue and pink checkered pattern with nothing that can remind me of Logan in any way.
The three of them follow me into the living room.
“We’ve got chicken and beers in the cooler. You can bring the afghan with you,” Dave offers.
“Oooooh.” I roll my eyes. “Can I? ‘Cause that would be really super.”
“Please. We haven’t barbecued once this summer.” Blake looks toward the kitchen. “Did you make dessert? Smells amazing in here.”
“A blueberry pie.”
“Can you bring it?” Logan asks me, locking eyes. “I’ve missed your cooking.”
“Bring the pie, Mace. With these two losers getting married, we haven’t done enough hanging out,” Blake says. “Blasphemy.”
“Why do you want me to go to the creek anyway?” I say to Logan.
“Yes, Logan,” Blake says with a slow smile. “Why do you? And Mace, why are you so pissed off? You seem almost…what’s the word when you haven’t had any in a while?”
I glare at Blake. “Touché. I haven’t seen you with a woman in oh…a week or so.”
“Ha. Yet I’m still cheerful and sunny. You’re the one who’s acting all gnarly and like you need to get some good…”
“Why don’t you go find someone to date or something?” I say.
“I’ve got a date tomorrow night.”
“Well, then start thinking about that. Stop trying to figure me out.”
I grab my phone when it rings. “Mama, I can’t talk right now,” I say into the receiver.
“What’s all the commotion?” Mama asks as Blake laughs loudly while he and Dave start mock fighting in the middle of my living room.
“I’m being coerced into cooking—Logan’s here.”
“Fabulous idea, Mace.” I can hear Mama’s approval gushing all the way up the phone line. “You know the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
Mama’s taken a decidedly strong stance against Logan and Gigi recently. I don’t know what fully tipped the scales, but she’s now acting like Team Ginny is really Team Macey, who Mama secretly wants to reunite with Logan.
“Mama!” I stomp my foot. “I swear to God…” I smile brightly at Logan as he raises his eyebrows at me.
“What?” Mama barks into the phone, and I press the receiver tightly against my ear, hoping her voice won’t carry like it seems to be. “I’m just saying, you’re such a fantastic cook, baby. If you’ve got it, flaunt it—that’s what I always say.”
“Mama, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I hang up and turn to the boys quickly taking over my house the same way they used to when we were all kids.
“Y’all need a timeout.” I put my hands on my hips and glare down at Blake and Dave still wrestling with each other.
“So let’s go fish,” Dave says from the floor.
I continue to glare at him and he leaves hastily for the car, calling back that he’ll see us outside. Blake goes too and shuts the door behind him, and I’m left alone with Logan.
“Where’s Gigi?” I ask.
“She and her sisters are going to join us later. She texted on my way here and wanted to meet up.”
“Where’s Gin?” I ask next.
“She’ll meet us there,” Logan says. “She says she needs distraction from something?”
“Nickel.”
“What?”
“Her wedding singer. She’s fallen for him,” I say in a low voice.
“Ginny’s fallen for her wedding singer?” Logan runs his hand down his face.
“She wants me to subtly spirit her away from him. Those are my words.”
“Does she expect she’ll figure things out before or after she’s been spirited?”
“Plan, Logan. Do you have one?”
“I told her to talk to him,” he says so quietly I have to lean forward to hear. “And I’ve told him a hundred times to talk to her. Dave’s been a part of our group since we were kids, but the two of them together? And neither one of them will speak up.”
“I know.” I lean back against the couch, feeling exhausted. “She asked me to make sure she marries him.”
Dave bangs on the door. “Hey! Y’all coming or what?”
“Fine then.” I get up and grab the pie.
Ben calls on our way out of the driveway, so we make a quick stop at The Cowherd for me to look over his new tracking plan for the bar’s finances. My brother is so enthusiastic about his idea, and I nod at everything he says and encourage him to keep going.
Our conversation takes longer than I’d planned, so by the time I’m done, Logan’s popped inside the bar to wait.
That was a mistake. As the two of us go to leave, Jon and another cameraman stroll into the parking lot. They immediately whip out their cameras and track our progress from The Cowherd’s front porch to Logan’s truck.
“Freaking camera crews following you everywhere,” Blake says through the open back window. “You love every minute of those flashbulbs in your face,” he teases Logan.
Logan turns his head away so the cameramen can’t get a clear shot of him.
They may not be able to see Logan’s face, but I sure can. And the stress and fatigue is written all over his face.
“Wait here,” I say before I walk over to Jon and the unknown cameraman.
“Hey y’all,” I say. “You know what? Logan’s not out with his bride-to-be right now. He’s with me. So if I were you, I would save my film for the moments he and Gigi are actually together. Do you think Logan and Gigi’s fans want to see him with another woman?” I say. “You guys need to shape this story. You have the control here. Use it wisely, boys.”
Both men slowly put their cameras down.
I walk back to Logan, who opens the back door for me and then gets into the driver’s seat.
“All set,” I say as I jump into the truck.
“What did you say to them?” Blake asks as Logan turns the key in the ignition. “I’m both impressed and afraid to know.”
“I’m not the heroine in Logan’s story,” I say simply. “So as long as you’re with me, you’re safe from the cameras.”
Logan’s eyes fly to mine. “Not the heroine?”
“Not your heroine. Don’t be fooled—I’m a heroine in my own story. Apparently, you just aren’t a part of it.”
Logan keeps his eyes locked on me as he puts the truck in reverse, and if I hadn’t pulled my gaze away to glance behind us and warn him, we would have hit the back fence for sure.
Chapter Eight
Logan parks on the side of an empty street in town, and the four of us walk toward the fishing hole at the end of the creek, right by the edge of the lake. We run into Ginny on our way.
“I can’t believe our wedding’s this Saturday,” Ginny says to me in a quiet voice as we trail the guys through the woods.
“So exciting!” I squeeze her arm.
She gives the smallest smile ever, and I ask her if she still feels uncertain.
“I don’t know. Is that what dread feels like?”
My heart lurches. “What’s going on, Gin?”
She shrugs. “Maybe this is all my mama’s dream, anyway. Or her nightmare.” She laughs. “One way or the other, I think it’s hers. I can’t stop it now, anyway. There’s too much at stake to back out.”
“Gin, no there isn’t.” I slow even more and turn to look at her. “You can still change your mind. You can always change your mind.”
“Nickel and I texted all afternoon.” She smiles. “He sends me chords for songs I like to play. I’m learning so much.”
“That’s great. So maybe—”
“But my daddy just called me to say how proud he is of me for sticking with Dave.” She kicks her white sandals into the dirt path until they scuff. “He’s very traditional. He believes a mother and father should always stay together for the sake
of the kids, no matter what.”
“I understand,” I say as we follow Logan’s flashlight through the dark wooded path. “But that’s not always realistic.”
“We’re all fishing tonight.” Logan opens the pail of bait and hands me a pole and line as we reach the water. “We’ll see who can catch the most. I’ll start the bonfire up. Blake, you want to get the chicken ready for the grill?”
I catch the first catfish. Ginny cheers, and I reel it in, happy with myself. Logan catches one next, and he puts his fish next to mine in the bucket.
I catch two more even though I feel myself fading.
“Dave!” Ginny shouts. “Get off my line!”
Dave laughs as he tries to dislodge Ginny’s line from her pole by poking at it. Ginny swats at him, and the two of them start laughing.
Blake calls to me from the grill, and I put down my pole and go help him.
It feels nice to be here without Gigi around. It feels just like it’s always been—even though it’s not.
When Blake disappears back to the truck for more charcoal, Logan and I sink down together on the grass.
“So I sold a painting today,” he says as he digs at the ground with a stray stick.
I sit up straight and stare at him. “You did not!”
“Yeah, I did.” He grins. “To a gallery in San Antonio. They’re doing an exhibit featuring Hill Country artists.”
“Oh, my God, your first sale—that’s so amazing!”
He nods. “I hope it won’t be my last.”
“Was Gigi so proud of you?”
He nods slowly, and a strange look passes over his face. “She was. But you know, she doesn’t really get it. What I went through to get here.”
I hesitate for just a second before I reach over to hug him. He hugs me back, and I keep my arms around his neck. And everything’s fine and platonic—until Logan moves his arm and touches my hip by mistake. I bite my lip and try to breathe and remember my name. I can feel his hot breath on my neck, and I can smell his cologne, and a stab of lust hits me right between the legs.
Crash!
“What the hell?” Logan pulls back and turns around.
I look behind us toward the trees. I don’t see anything at first, but then a flash of light gets my attention.
Jon and his camera are lurking behind a tree.
“You’ve got to be kidding—” I say just as Logan’s phone buzzes and sufficiently distracts him.
“Gigi just texted—they’ll be here in five minutes.”
He starts typing her a response.
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” I tell him as Blake returns and calls to Logan to get off his butt and help him with the grill.
I walk into the shadows of the trees until I see the glint of Skip’s glasses. Then, I reach out and grab his shirt so fast he gasps.
Chapter Nine
“Ms. Henwood!” Skip steps backward. “You scared me!”
“And you didn’t scare me? What the hell are y’all doing hiding in the woods like serial killers? Are you spying on us?”
Jon drops his eyes in a guilty manner, but Skip just smiles. I glare at him and his cowboy hat that’s gradually looking more and more authentic.
“This is a private gathering,” I say. “Between friends. How much of it have you photographed?”
Skip leads me away from Jon and over to the paved walkway that leads to the road. Right in front of us stands a stone sculpture of Jane Austen.
“Is the Make Your Match contest all about Jane’s ghost?” Skip asks me bluntly as he points at the statue. “Or something else?”
I’m too tired and strung out to think straight, so I answer him honestly. “I never wanted anything to do with the ghost legend in the first place.”
“And you don’t think Mr. Wild is deserving of the Mr. Darcy cowboy hat.”
“Not true.” I don’t know why I keep going, but I do. “I want only good for Logan if that’s what you’re implying.”
“I know you care about Logan, and your daddy, and even this ghost.” Skip leans against the statue and takes off his cowboy hat. “But life’s more complicated than just being a Good Samaritan.”
“You don’t know anything.” I surprise myself when I keep going. “You don’t know how hard it is for some people to run an establishment filled with alcohol. Sometimes they just need a chance to prove that they’re up to the task. And my daddy can’t get another chance unless this damn legend gets put to rest. Not that that makes any sense at all. But that’s not the point I’m making. The point is this contest gives my father hope. And who am I to say what someone else needs to get through the day? Or to get through their life?”
“I get it,” Skip says. “I’ve heard about your daddy’s struggles. And what you just said will remain off the record, of course. But I’ve also noticed other things, things you don’t want anyone to see. Same with Mr. Wild.”
I squirm. “You’re a reporter who’s come charging into town and decided he knows everything. Well, you don’t! You don’t know anything, not about my family, or me, or my heart.”
“So it’s got nothing to do with being on Team Ginny and Dave? Maybe it’s more about beating who’s on the other team?”
“Shut up, Skip.”
Skip says nothing, just looks at me earnestly.
“I mean, sure, Gigi’s only half grown up if you ask me. And sure, the life’s gone out of Logan’s eyes, and he and Gigi hardly know each other while Ginny’s been putting up with Dave since she was thirteen. Sure, all of that is true. But I’m not trying to beat Logan. If Logan and Gigi are indeed the soul mates Jane’s been waiting for this past century and a half, I’m not going to stand in their way.”
“You’re certain?” Skip says as he looks at me closely. “You wouldn’t sooner see Gigi trip on her way down the aisle and get so caught up in her train that the whole thing gets called off? Even if it means the beautiful, genius spirit of Jane Austen is trapped forever?”
“Of course not. And you do realize you sound as crazy as my mother, acting like the ghost of Jane Austen is real and in pain.”
“So you’d be okay even if the couple is Logan and a girl who isn’t you?” he presses me.
“Ye-es.” The word catches in my throat, but I push it out. “Even then. I want Logan to be happy, and if that means marrying Gigi, good for him.” I walk away from the statue and gesture Skip to follow me, signaling the conversation closed.
But Skips steps in front of me and blocks my route before either of us can leave. “Whether you really wanted him to or not, I have a proposal for you. One I think you should listen to.”
Headlights catch my eye, and I watch as Gigi and her two sisters emerge from a rental SUV to our right. The three of them head down the hill toward the creek, away from where Skip and I are standing. She never sees me at all.
Skip tracks her movements, and then he holds out his phone to me so I can see the screen.
My eyes widen as he flips through a bunch of photographs—
One of Logan and me down by the creek just now, our mouths so close to one another we look like we’re about to kiss or have maybe already kissed.
Another one of Logan and me laughing while we gaze into each other’s eyes at The Cowherd.
A shot of Gigi hanging onto Logan’s side outside the bar while he’s looking at me.
A picture of Logan and me behind the bar—Logan with his attention on me, and Gigi watching us from a distance.
A panned-out image of Logan on the ground at the rodeo with me running maniacally toward him and Gigi in the stands.
A photo of Logan and me as we dance the two-step out by the picnic table.
“How did you get that one?” I stare at the one of us dancing. “The bar was closed.”
“I have dozens more. More photographs that show you and Mr. Darcy in compromising positions. I don’t think the future Mrs. Darcy, or her family, would like what’s in these, do you? They don’t paint a very good story from
her end.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What are you saying?”
“The Darcy Gazette’s Special Edition needs a backbone story, and more importantly to me, my paper sent me down here to get dirt. Not just to recap a legend anyone can find in the library or online. My editor wants a hook. And from what I’ve gathered in my short time here, you’re the hook, Ms. Henwood. You and your very interestingly-close relationship with your ex-husband, who the entire town has already christened Mr. Darcy.”
My face is on fire with fury. “How dare you. You’re trying to blackmail me?”
“It’s no skin off your back if these photos are published,” Skip says. “Maybe your reputation will suffer a bit, but not permanently. But would Logan’s future with Gigi be over immediately should these come out? Would she leave him? And another question I’m pursuing is: would he care? If so, why?”
“I don’t know what Gigi would do. The only thing I’m sure of is I don’t care.”
“I don’t believe you. I believe you still want him. I also am inclined to think he still wants you, which makes this triangle even more intriguing.”
I clench my hands into fists at my sides. “What do you want?”
He smiles. “My proposal is this—you grant me unfettered access to Vivian’s diary, which your daddy has refused me several times, plus an exclusive, one-on-one interview with you as The Lady on the Inside, where no questions are off-limits, about The Cowherd Whiskey and your role in running it, and why you made Logan the exception to your no-marriage rule.”
“No way.”
“You grant me those two things,” he continues like I never cut him off. “And I’ll give you these photos and never publish them. I’ll delete them off my phone right in front of you and give you the flash drive with the copies. You don’t? I show them to Ms. Gigi Phillips and her family and get what I’m sure will be a show-stopping response. Either way, I get a story. You see?”
“You could have more back-up copies.”
“You give me the diary and the interview, and I’ll give you my word that I won’t send them to my editor. And I don’t go back on that.”
Wild Girl: A Cowboy Romance Trilogy (Wild Men Texas Book 3) Page 4
