by Taylor Hart
Logan went to the small bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. He was old. He pulled off the hospital gown and looked at his bare chest. Not old in a bad way. Dang, he was ripped. He looked down his arms and saw the tattoo of a wolf’s face on his left shoulder. Weird. For the most part he couldn’t believe how in shape he was, like one of those muscle magazines. Barring the major headache and tenderness at the back of his head, he felt fine.
He flexed in the mirror, but before he could do too much inspecting, George came back in with the doctor. “Logan,” he said, a little louder than necessary. “You’re engaged to Kim.” He gestured to the door. “Kim Turner, the woman who was here when you woke up.”
He didn’t respond.
“Kim Turner, the movie star. You’re getting married to her in less than a month.”
“He’s not hard of hearing.” The doctor frowned at George, then narrowed his eyes at Logan. “Do you remember her, son? Do you remember being engaged?”
Logan let out a puff of air. “No, I don’t.” He turned to his agent. “I’m not engaged. And definitely not engaged to her.” He pointed to a chair. “Do you mind getting my clothes, please? I’m leaving.”
The doctor hovered over him. “Mr. Slade, I don’t think it would be a good decision to get discharged from the hospital yet.”
Logan knew these things could be fussy. He remembered his own mother checking in and out of rehab until she’d died when he was only twelve. It was tricky. He leveled the doctor with a long, hard look. “Doc, I’m leaving. I may not remember everything, but you said yourself it could take a few days. I’m not staying in the hospital. I’m going home.”
“Home?” George said as he handed him a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. He flashed a grin. “That’s a great idea.”
Logan nodded. He couldn’t stay in here any longer.
“Yes.” George turned toward the doctor, suddenly confident. “Let’s discharge him to Kim; she’ll get him home and settled.”
“No,” Logan said reflexively. “I’m not going with her.”
But it seemed he didn’t have a choice. If he wanted to leave the hospital, someone had to be “in charge” of him, and neither Shane nor Paris was around.
The next couple of hours were highly confusing. Using her phone, “Kim” recorded their whole trip home, where their driver took them to an absurdly large mansion.
Logan didn’t feel right about anything in this new life of his. Especially this woman, who kept trying to maul him like some mother bear with a cub, pulling him in and pushing kisses on him. “Stop,” he firmly said to her. “We are not engaged.”
She showed him videos on her phone of them together. Both of them were doing some idiotic wolf howl to a group of people who were doing it back. “See, you remember, baby, don’t you?” When he shook his head, her face screwed up in a fit of sadness. “Logan, you have to remember me.”
“I don’t. So we’re not getting married. Do you understand that?” Logan wasn’t immune to women crying, but he honestly felt it was all show, partly because she made sure it was all recorded for something she would be putting on their vlog. He still didn’t know what that was, exactly.
His head hurt and he asked her to show him to his room. She insisted it was their room, and it was just as tasteless as the clothes she wore—the leopard-print comforter and the mirrors on the ceiling were just the start. “What, do I live in a Vegas showroom?” he asked her as he pulled off his shirt and got into bed.
She sat there, holding her iPhone and recording him.
He was too tired to do anything but go to bed. Before he drifted off he said, one last time, “I don’t know who you are, but I’m not marrying you.” He dozed off to the sound of her muffled tears as she fled the room.
Hours later, he woke to the sound of snoring. When he turned, the woman claiming to be his fiancée was cuddled next to his back, sawing logs like a lumberjack.
He looked at the clock on the table next to the bed. Three o’clock in the morning. His head still ached, but he knew he couldn’t stay here. He needed answers.
Logan padded into the bathroom and found a gigantic closet inside. He grabbed a gym bag and threw in some shorts, T-shirts, jeans and different shoes. Opening a nearby wallet, he was shocked to see the large wad of cash and various credit cards. He also saw a phone next to the wallet.
No, he would skip the phone. He didn’t want anything to do with this Kim, and he really didn’t want the man who called himself his agent to try calling him.
He went down the stairs and saw a row of keys next to the kitchen. Smiling, he saw one labeled “Mustang.” Okay, maybe his future self wasn’t entirely an idiot.
Logan went to the garage and turned on the lights, finding the Mustang ready to go. He opened the garage and beelined for the Mustang, ignoring the ache in his head and his empty stomach.
He needed answers, and there was only one person he trusted to give them to him: Paris Ford.
Chapter 4
Paris lay in bed, unable to sleep.
A million things ran through her head. Checklists of things she had to get done for the All-Stars Event. The checklist of the bag she’d just packed for the vacation Ty would be taking with Shane and his new wife. Shane was supposed to stop by last night and get the bag so she didn’t have to send it to school with Ty today. It wasn’t like him to forget little details.
She looked at the clock on her bedside. Four in the morning! Argh. She turned on her side and willed herself to go to sleep.
It felt like only seconds later when her phone buzzed. In a haze, she looked at the clock. Five in the morning. She grabbed her phone to see a text from Shane letting her know that he was here for the bag. Annoyed, she got out of bed and pulled on a robe, then opened the door quietly, taking care not to wake Ty.
Shane stood there, his arms crossed, his eyes angry. Clearly, he’d seen the coverage about Logan, too. “Hey,” he said, stilted.
Paperwork on the divorce had been finalized almost a year ago, but things hadn’t gotten to the amicable place several of her friends promised they would get to. He’d recently married his secretary at the insurance office, Shari Bolton, who had been head cheerleader in high school and still had that “let’s put up posters and have fun” air about her. She also happened to be the one that Shane had cheated on her with.
She thought of the words her father always said to her: “I don’t care what happens between two adults; when you have children, you have to get along.”
Mimicking his irritated pose, she crossed her arms. “You can come in and get the bag.” She wasn’t going to make his life easy.
His nostrils flared, and he shot her the accusing look he’d given her during their marriage when it came to anything about Logan Slade. “What are you going to do when the reporters get here?” he asked in an angry whisper. “He said your name, ya know?”
She threw up her hands. “What do you want me to do, Shane?” She pointed to the already packed bag. “There’s Ty’s bag. It’s ready for you and your wife and ten days of fun.” Her voice was clipped and sarcastic, revealing her jealousy—not really over the new wife thing, but definitely over the new family thing. He’d insisted on taking Ty away for the big All-Stars weekend. “I wish you would have let Ty meet some people.”
Shane narrowed his eyes. “Logan?”
It wasn’t fun for him to have Logan come back to town and paparazzi it up. Part of her wanted to remind Shane, Remember—you’re the jerk who cheated! But she didn’t, because there was too much history between Shane and Logan and herself.
“No,” she said steadily. “Rocket Breeland will be here, and Ty loves watching him.” She started listing off the awesome football players who would be here this weekend. “Roman Young, Sam Dumont, Legend James, Cameron Cruise, Hyde Metcalf, Jace Harding, and don’t even get me started on the other famous people—Sterling Pennington, the movie star—”
“Ty’s met him. Remember that swanky event at Montana’s
house you dragged us to?” He rolled his eyes. “He’s met Sterling, Hunter James, Cooper Harrison, all the bigwigs around here and some other bigwigs from Park City, Utah, remember? And Ty is five. He is fine.”
She knew this was about more than just her and Logan. After all, Shane had been his best friend while growing up, too. They’d gone to college together on scholarship. Granted, Shane had been cut after two years and he’d come home, but he and Logan had a long history.
Shane relented. “Do you think he’s okay?”
She blinked. No matter what—all the history, all the past crap—she knew both of them wanted Logan to be okay. Head injuries were a serious thing, with more and more coverage about concussions and what that meant for football players as they aged.
Taking a step back, she pushed the door open further. “I’ll make us some coffee and we can talk.”
She didn’t wait for Shane to let himself in. He knew his way around; after all, the house used to be both of theirs. She heard the front door close, and then Shane approached the dining room table while taking off his suit coat, looking glum and resigned. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his two top buttons.
After he’d been cut from UC Berkeley, he’d finished his business degree, then come back to Jackson and joined his father’s insurance company. He had done well, especially with all the expansion in Jackson the past five years. She stood next to the stove and watched him, finding it funny that their lives were still tied to Logan Slade.
Shane walked over to the baby grand piano and gently rested a hand on it; the touch bothered her, though she wasn’t sure why. “I miss hearing you play,” he said softly. “I always loved that about the mornings or the evenings or pretty much every time you were home—the house was filled with music.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. His admission felt intimate.
The moment flickered out like a candle. He stalked to the table and quickly sat, swinging angry eyes back to her. “But I guess those days are over.”
Biting her tongue, she held her own anger at bay. “So you’re picking Ty up after school, right?” They’d been over the plans, but she didn’t know what else to say. She filled the mugs and took them to the table, putting one in front of him.
“You’ve had the plans for a month. Yes, I’ll pick up Ty after school. We’ll fly out early from Jackson Saturday morning and take a direct flight into LA. And you’ll have time to gear up for All-Stars.” He smirked and cocked an eyebrow. “What will you do if Logan doesn’t show up for the event to do his wolf impression? What will the crowds do without him?”
“Shut up, Shane.” She wasn’t going to get into it with him.
“Whatever.” Shane took a sip. “Did you tell him at the funeral? Did you?”
Nails on a chalkboard, that was all she felt in his company these days. “Go to hell.”
Letting out a derisive laugh, his eyes flashed to her. “Oh, didn’t you know? Hell was when I was married to you.”
She clamped down on her rage. It wouldn’t do to lose control. She’d learned that over the past couple of years with her mother dying and the divorce. The emotional hangover wasn’t worth it. “Okay. I guess you can get the bag and we’ll see you in ten days.” She allowed herself a witchy smile.
Shane stood, but didn’t move. “Do you still love him?”
“Don’t do this. He’s in a coma.”
“Oh, he’s fine now,” Shane said. His voice had taken on that weird tone it got when he didn’t want to be emotional. “He’s back in his mansion with Kim, living his famous life. I listened to the news on the way over.”
Her heart pounded. “Well, I wouldn’t have let you in if you would have told me that sooner.”
Shane only shrugged. They both knew he’d played the “our friend might die so let’s feel bad together” card. All of them had been best friends, grown up together, before she and Logan had fallen in love.
Honestly, when she’d come back to Jackson, Shane had asked her out and she’d refused. After he persisted, though, it felt like the most natural thing in the world that they would end up together.
“You’ve never stopped loving him,” he whispered through clenched teeth.
She’d always told Shane that it’d been his own male ego that wouldn’t let the past go. “I can’t do this.” She left the coffee on the table and led him back to the front door.
He picked up Ty’s bag, but didn’t leave right away. His eyes glittered with emotion. “If you just would have quit doing All-Stars … if you could have said no to him two years ago, things would be different.”
She trembled. “You had an affair, Shane. You had an affair with your secretary; you can’t really get more cliché then that. That had nothing to do with All-Stars.”
“Bull,” Shane muttered.
“I plan this event for all of them, not just Logan.”
“Logan hired your company.”
“I don’t even know why we’re having this discussion anymore.”
A loud knock interrupted them. Shane shot her a glance, and then flung the door open.
A camera flashed, and someone pushed a microphone forward. “Is Paris Ford here? Could we get a comment to put on the record?”
“Get out of here!” Shane glowered at them.
Among the snapping pictures, another reporter asked, “Do you think he’s coming here, Ms. Ford?”
Paris had changed her name back to Ford, and it always embarrassed her when someone said it when Shane was around, because it’d bothered him that she’d changed it back.
“What do you mean, coming here?” Shane’s voice had gone down an octave.
The woman reporter flashed a smile and waved at her cameraman to focus on Paris. “Oh, you didn’t know? Kim vlogged a couple of hours ago that when she woke up, he had left his LA home and didn’t take his phone.” She held out a microphone. “Where do you think he’s going?”
Paris stumbled back, and felt Shane reach out to steady her. Even with the anger in his eyes, all she could think about was how Logan had kissed her when he’d come to her mother’s funeral two years ago.
Chapter 5
Later that morning, Paris plowed through a throng of reporters to get into her office. Her whole team was excited, watching the reporters from the office window, smiling at them, pretending to look busy when she got inside. “Work,” she grunted at them, in no mood for it all.
She had already seen the reports this morning: “Ford Events puts on the All-Stars gathering every year for the high rollers in Jackson. Paris Ford, former girlfriend of Logan Slade, refuses to comment about their relationship. The facts show they were high school sweethearts and were engaged until Logan’s sophomore year in college. No one really knows what broke them up, but Logan left LA last night and Kim Turner has been vlogging her concerns.”
The newscasters would flip to a clip of Kim railing frantically. “Please help find the love of my life.”
The memory was blessedly interrupted when Michelle held out a cup of coffee for her, giving her a half smile. “It’s that bad?”
Paris grunted and took the mug, grateful for her assistant even though no amount of coffee could help her today. “Yes.”
Michelle followed her into the office and shut the door behind them. “Yeah, this is crazy. I mean, do you think Logan is going to show up here?”
Paris stiffened, although she couldn’t blame her for the excitement in her eyes. They’d planned this event for Logan’s philanthropic organization every year, but Michelle had never met him. In fact, he would usually show up for one night, prance around the main party, shake hands with all the bigwigs, then beg off the rest of the time, saying he had other commitments. This had been the pattern. It’d perplexed Paris, but she knew it was better he avoided her.
Shane always said she pouted every year during the event, but she didn’t. Shane just … ahh. She massaged her temple, trying to abate the ache that had permanently taken up residence behind her left eye since yesterday an
d all the shenanigans with Logan had started. “I’m glad he’s okay,” she said softly. “But I don’t need this in my life right now.”
Michelle eased forward, mischief sparkling in her pale green eyes. “C’mon. Logan Slade wants to talk to you, people think he’s coming right now, and you’re not the least bit curious?”
“Curious?” She let out a light chuckle, unwilling to admit her unease. Glancing down and picking up the file on her desk, she said, “Logan Slade and I were over a long time ago.” The old feelings of betrayal and anger hadn’t been dusted off in a while, but they still had power to take her breath away. “Can we please focus on the task at hand? We need to get things ready for the event—which, may I remind you, we have less then a week to do. Please report,” she said in a hard, matter-of-fact way.
Michelle cleared her throat and began running down all the vendors lined up, then all the ones still in the works. “Jackson Resort staff are meeting with our people today to go over particulars on handling concert parking the night Montana Crew will be in town. We need ushers, car parkers, valets. We’re coordinating all of that. Did you know Texas Waters is going to open for him again?”
“Yes.” She kept her eyes fixed on a list, ignoring Michelle’s digging.
“Texas Waters.” Michelle said the words like she was about to eat her favorite chocolate dipped strawberry.
“What?” Paris said, feeling distracted and a bit jittery. She’d only had a little coffee this morning and should have eaten something to dilute the caffeine.
“You said he told you he wanted a date when he came to town this year.”
In the midst of Logan, she hadn’t even thought about that. She and Texas had met on the heels of her divorce, while she was trying to work Montana’s event the previous year. He’d opened for Montana then. She and Texas had ended up enjoying Montana’s concert together and possibly a kiss before she told him she had just gotten divorced and she couldn’t get involved. “I’m not even thinking about that today,” she told Michelle.
