Wild Girl: A Cowboy Romance Trilogy (Wild Men Texas Book 3)

by Melissa Belle

  So I stop biting my lip and go for broke.

  “How much does Gigi know? About us?”

  He blinks in surprise at my question and doesn’t answer me right away. Finally, he murmurs, “Some details.”

  “How much?” I touch his knee.

  No answer.

  “How much?” I push again.

  Nothing.

  I grab him by the arm and shake him. “Tell me!”

  “What are you asking for? What exactly did you want me to tell her?” His raised voice cuts through the quiet night. “That I’ve been in love with you since we were eight years old but I never had the guts to say it?!”

  He stops short then, but his heart’s on his sleeve.

  And I’m scared speechless.

  I stand up when he does, and the tortured look in his eyes is the only thing that stops me from grabbing him and kissing him. He pushes past me and disappears around the cypress tree. And I stare up at the stars and wonder how I got my heart into such a mess.

  But I don’t go back inside and try to find him.

  Instead, I force myself to get into my SUV and drive away before I stop myself in that moment with Logan forever.

  Because that moment would be entanglement, not love.

  That moment would be my mother hanging on to my father because she doesn’t know what else to do with herself, because she’s not even sure it’s about him as much as it’s about not being alone. That moment would be me holding on to moments filled with pain.

  All I know is that it’s hard, and I’m sad, and I wish I’d done more than screw around with Logan all these years. I wish I’d had more strength and more courage and more heart, rather than just making a teenage vow and holding onto it for dear life.

  Because then who knows.

  Logan

  I let out a string of curse words as I disappear around the corner.

  That is the absolute last way I ever planned to tell Macey I loved her.

  And it is the absolute worst way I could have done it, spontaneously shouting it at her and then fleeing. Nice, Logan. Just fucking perfect.

  The minute I round the cypress tree, I smack into Gigi.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I gesture her to follow me as I walk clear across the property to the front of Brick’s.

  She stares at me with big eyes. “Are you backing out?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I heard what you said to her.” Her voice is quiet. “That you love her. That’s the first time you’ve told her, right?”

  I look her in the eyes. “I’m not backing out of this. Okay? But I am moving things around.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “No wedding in Darcy. Just Florida. ASAP.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s what I need.”

  I can’t see Macey again before the wedding. If I do, no way in hell will I be able to go through with it. And if I can just get out of the state, maybe I can avoid her.

  “What will we tell my parents?” Gigi’s asking me.

  “Tell them we can’t sit through two weddings and that we need to get to Florida right away. Tell them whatever will work.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Macey

  When I get up in the morning and can’t stop thinking about Logan, I head into town. I don’t stop moving until I reach Dr. Spellman’s office. She’s available, and she invites me inside.

  I throw my limp, exhausted body onto her lavender couch and start rambling. “I haven’t slept all night. I could barely eat breakfast. Last night was Logan and Gigi’s pre-wedding barbecue, and Logan confessed something big to me. I mean it was—big—this confession.”

  “What’s your question?” Liza shuffles the card deck rapidly behind my head.

  “I want to know what the fuc—sorry—I want to know what the heck he was doing telling me something like that right before his wedding to somebody else. What am I supposed to do about it? Does he want me to do something about it? I mean, his wedding’s tonight!”

  I look over. Four cards are spread out on the table in front of Liza.

  “The spirit guides tell me what cards to use. My hand just follows their guidance.” Liza scans the cards. “Addiction greatly affected your childhood, and because of that, you have a great fear of becoming codependent and leaning on somebody else.”

  “I suppose my father’s drinking kind of made me think all love would fail. And Mama just couldn’t live without him, which was an addiction in itself.”

  “Very painful indeed.” Liza looks at the second card. “But right now, you feel the stinging pain of being separated from your partner.”

  “Logan and I were never partners.”

  “You were husband and wife.”

  “Not really. Not in truth.” I raise my eyebrows at her. “Let’s not confuse me even more, please.”

  “Are you lying to yourself?” She picks up the third card. “Your closest circle of comrades wants to help you if you are willing to accept their support. They may know better than you in this case.”

  “I don’t think I should have come here.” I stand up.

  “Your future card is the wedding card.”

  My legs go so weak I nearly fall backward as I sink down into the couch again.

  “Logan’s wedding. It’s definitely going to happen tonight. Ben was wrong.”

  Liza’s watery eyes grow focused and ever-present as she narrows them at me and fixes me in place. “You need to get clear on what your heart truly wants. The spirit guides cannot help you if you don’t tell them what you need. They won’t interfere with free will.”

  I stand up and head for her door.

  “Did you hear me? Get clear with yourself, Ms. Henwood! Stop shutting your ears to your own soul.”

  Yes, I heard.

  I don’t say anything back to her, but I’ve heard her. And the answer is—

  I want Logan Wild.

  Physically—God, yes, I want him. But I need him emotionally, too, and spiritually.

  I want him for myself. Not in a competitive, stab-Gigi’s-eyes-out way, but an I-love-him way and I think we belong together.

  Because I remember our first meeting.

  And our first kiss.

  Our first time together.

  Our first everything because we’ve shared it all.

  I remember all of it. And the only thing I’d take back is my utter blindness to my own emotions and my stubborn refusal to plant my feet on the ground and live the life I was given.

  I run like a maniac down Main Street, not stopping until I’m gasping for breath outside Logan’s cottage. His wedding’s set for five o’clock at The Cowherd, and I have to talk to him before that.

  I bang for over two minutes on his door, but he’s not home. I walk over to his parents’ house. He’s not there, either; in fact, nobody is.

  As I’m leaving the ranch, I run into Reid. When I ask him where Logan is, he looks at me in surprise.

  “He’s on his way to the airport,” he says. “For his wedding in Florida. I’m taking a later flight. Aren’t you coming?”

  I stare at him. “His wedding is here in Darcy. Tonight.”

  “Not anymore,” he says to me. “Logan changed his mind last night. Today’s wedding is canceled because he decided to just have one wedding in Florida.”

  “But the legend…” I begin wildly. “Jane Austen’s ghost…”

  Reid shakes his head. “I don’t get why he’s copping out of town at the last minute.” He gives me a second look. “Although I think I may have a clue.”

  Right. He’s avoiding seeing me.

  “He and Gigi are now having a private wedding ceremony on July fourth in Florida,” Reid explains. “And the public reception is still on the seventh. Logan tried to move the date up even more, but he couldn’t.”

  I look at Reid, feeling so sad all of a sudden. “July fourth? But that’s the day we fly out, so by the time everyone gets there…�
� Logan will be married.

  “All the reporters are gonna stay stationed at The Cowherd on July fourth to see if the cell door opens or not,” Reid says.

  I bite my lip so hard it bleeds, and a tear slips out of one eye.

  “Hey, maybe you can still catch him.” Reid tries to cheer me up. “His flight hasn’t left yet.”

  But when I get to the airport, they won’t let me past security.

  “I have an emergency message for one of your passengers,” I say.

  “Only if you buy a ticket. I’m sorry.”

  I go to the counter and inquire about changing the departure date on my ticket.

  “Sure!” The bright-eyed woman behind the counter looks up my information. “Let’s see now…oh, dear. Everything is booked solid, unfortunately.”

  “Every single flight?”

  “You could come back tomorrow morning and try to go stand-by,” she suggests. “But it’s July fourth week.”

  “Thanks.” I turn away and make my way back through the airport.

  I walk to my SUV, get in, and drive home defeated.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  When I walk through my front door, I can’t relax. I’m so agitated I feel desperate.

  Just desperate enough to finally do it.

  I reach into my purse and pull out my diary.

  I’m almost finished with it, almost done reading the last set of stories where Logan Wild is a single and available man, a man who’s marked so much of my childhood and ascension into adulthood. I feel sad for a second, like I didn’t actually learn the lessons I was supposed to, and maybe it’s too late to get it right.

  I sit down at my kitchen table and open to my final entry before I ran out of space.

  Our wedding night in Las Vegas.

  Seems like such a long time ago now. I didn’t know how much I took for granted on that trip, like my naïve belief that Logan would always be available to me whenever I needed him and that we could just keep having sex without thinking about commitment.

  I remember the day before we left when I went over to his cottage.

  “Logan, will you drive to Vegas with us?”

  He’d just gotten out of the shower, and all he was wearing was a towel around his waist. I tried to keep my eyes trained on his face, but I couldn’t help peeking at his bare chest and his white towel and how it didn’t leave a lot to the imagination.

  Logan gave me an amused smile and made no effort to put on a t-shirt or turn away.

  “What will we do in Vegas?” He reached out and touched his hand to my neck until I shivered.

  “You and I will support our two friends as they walk through the gates of permanent coupledom.”

  “Permanent coupledom. You say it like they’re two swear words. Like you’re spitting them out of your mouth to make sure none of the stain stays with you.”

  “Logan, shut up and come with me. Please?”

  He pulled me inside his cottage and disappeared inside his bedroom. When he reappeared, he was dressed in a t-shirt and my favorite pair of his jeans. And he had a suitcase.

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  I return my focus to my tiny kitchen, which feels even smaller now, and lay my hand over my chest. It’s hot in here. And about to get hotter. Time to finally hear what my heart had to say about my one and only wedding.

  Holy cattle.

  I reread the last sentence of my Vegas entry for the third time, and then I stand up. I leave my diary open on the table, grab my purse, and walk out of the house in a daze.

  I drive aimlessly around town and try to forget about Logan for at least five minutes.

  Maybe I should call him.

  No. I shouldn’t.

  I wouldn’t want him calling me after saying something like what he said.

  I know I want to call him, though. I stop at the creek but stay in my car and look out at the water. I guess I’m hoping for some kind of sign, some inspiration that will lead me to the right answer.

  The skies get dark within five minutes, and when the water does come down from the sky, it’s hard, nearly hail. A few hailstones do hit the windshield, and I curse myself for not getting that special sealant Lou offered me the last time there was a hailstorm here.

  But the hail doesn’t last long, just long enough to get my attention. The thunder and lightning come for the next minute or two, hard and bright, and the rains continue to pelt on my car.

  And that’s when I see red. Red mud. I haven’t seen that in over three years, not outside of a painting.

  That’s my sign.

  Yes, I have to let Logan go, but I can’t let him go without letting him in.

  I drive home and run inside my duplex and over to my laptop.

  I know it’s a long shot. Checking his email account is probably the last thing on his mind right now, but I’m going to try anyway. I attach a copy of the full manuscript of Ghost Love and add a little note.

  “Hey,” I write. “You always told me I could do this. I hope all your dreams come true also.”

  As soon as I press send, I immediately panic and try to hit cancel so that everything I just gave Logan would be safely back in my house where he can’t read the words that came straight from my heart.

  But the email goes through successfully.

  And once I’ve unclenched my white-knuckled fists from the table, I relax.

  Macey, you had to give it one last shot before he becomes someone else’s husband. You had to let him know maybe he shouldn’t give up on you just yet.

  Mostly, I want Logan to know that I haven’t given up on him, either. If two four-hundred-year-old ghosts can find their way back to one another, then there must still be hope for us mortals.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I walk into the Cowherd Whiskey shaking water out of my hair. I’m soaked just from those few seconds outside.

  “Really coming down, isn’t it?” George says.

  “Really is.” I go around to the back of the bar and use some paper towels to dry my head. “You all punched out?”

  “Yep. I’ve fed the kitty, and he’s all safe and sound in his bed. I’m gonna go home and enjoy a cold beer, watch some sports on TV, and go to bed early.”

  “Good for you,” I say.

  “You’re leaving for Florida soon, right?” George asks me as he puts on his hat.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good luck with that one,” he says to me. “And remember, she may have the ring, but it doesn’t mean she’s got his heart.”

  I smile and wish I could believe him.

  Because of the rains, The Cowherd’s nearly empty. As the hours go by, it never picks up. It’s starting to feel more and more like a never-ending shift when Skips pops by for an unplanned—and clearly uninvited—visit.

  “Didn’t you squeeze enough information out of me and this old bar already?” I ask him.

  He takes off his glasses and dries them off on his shirt before he takes a seat on a stool. “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Well, whatever your request is, the answer is no.”

  Skip holds up his hand for me to let him finish. “You and Logan are a real-life love story. What you did for him—silently and privately sacrificing your own heart so he wouldn’t suffer—that’s what legends are made of.”

  “Skip, please.”

  “I’m serious. You didn’t even want him to know. You did it all for him, not yourself. That’s true love.”

  Yes. I do love him.

  Fuck. I love Logan. I love him so much it hurts.

  But—

  “Sometimes love isn’t enough,” I say, my voice cracking.

  Skip’s gaze searches my face. “And sometimes it is. Ever think maybe he’s doing the same for you?”

  I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you believe that Logan Wild would silently and privately sacrifice his heart so you wouldn’t suffer, Ms. Henwood?”

  His tone is neutral, but something in his face�
�

  “Is that a rhetorical question?” I say in a rush of words.

  “Just a question.” He changes tacks. “Do you know Gigi’s mother has been to Darcy before?”

  A chill goes down my spine, and I lean over the bar.

  “She has?” I say, trying to ignore my racing pulse.

  “She has. Four years ago. Do you know what you were up to four years ago?”

  Let’s see. Mama and Daddy were separated, and Daddy was in the middle of a terrible streak of picking up single women passing through town. And Mama was fit to be tied.

  “I think I do,” I say slowly. “But I’m not sure what that has to do with Gigi’s mother.”

  Skip’s tone is light, breezy almost, when he says, “I’m sure you can figure it out. You’re a smart woman, and you know people. Just like I do. Remember, bartenders and reporters—we should stick together.”

  He’s presenting me with a riddle he already knows the answer to. A puzzle he’s already completed. And I’m…stumped.

  “Maybe when you left our state behind for your little trip to Las Vegas, your vow to never marry stayed behind too?”

  I stare at him.

  “And that’s why you did in Vegas what you never dared to do here. Revealed what’s really in your heart. Think about it, Ms. Henwood.”

  Skip tips his cowboy hat and leaves as Daddy walks inside with Evan and Ben. All three of them shake off the rain and then glare at Skip menacingly as he bows and scurries out the door.

  Evan escorts Daddy carefully behind the bar so he can lift the encased contract off the wall where it’s been hanging on a sturdy nail for the last ten years.

  I look at Ben, who shrugs. “He just pulled me off the living room couch and said we were going on an errand.”

  “Kids.” Daddy beckons Ben behind the bar with us. “This is a momentous occasion. I am going to hereby void this contract with my eldest daughter.” Daddy bows his head toward me before turning the frame over in his hands and unhinging the backing. He pulls the contract out from the frame and places it on the bar in front of us. “Are you ready, baby?” he says to me. “Your future will be wide open after this, but it will also be totally uncertain and up to you to figure out. You won’t have this bar to fall back on anymore. Are you sure that’s what you want?”