Yet, as much as Anna could see, she knew it was only a small slice of the entire pie and there was more wide-open land, more creeks and buildings and neat, fenced-in squares well outside her vantage point. In addition to the bunkhouses, there were a handful of residences—as in, actual, complete houses—where the rest of Logan’s ranch-working family lived.
Then, beyond that, there was even more.
On their way in yesterday, Logan had explained that the ranch encompassed just over four thousand acres of mostly contiguous deeded land, and that he was in the process of finalizing a crop share lease for the section of unconnected property his family owned, which came in just shy of five hundred acres. He’d also told her that in addition to raising and selling cattle, they grew hay and corn.
So yes, it was a lot to absorb. Even for a woman born and raised in Colorado, a state that was home to many a ranch, and then went on to spend several years in the everything-here-is-big state of Texas. But she did not grow up on a ranch, and in Austin, she’d lived and worked and spent almost all of her free time in the city’s art, music and culinary district.
She wished she better understood Logan’s role here, though, and the innate connection he seemed to have with this land. Of course, in order for that to happen, he’d have to open up and let her into his head. They were easier with one another again, due in no small part to their physical relationship. So maybe, by the end of their visit, he’d start talking more.
As well, she was interested in his childhood, in the type of boy he’d been before growing into the man she knew. In her mind’s eye, Anna pictured a boy version of Logan tossing a ball with his granddad, playing hide-and-seek with his cousins and building snowmen with his mom.
Laughter gathered in Anna’s chest, which she released with a soft snort. Yeah, he probably had done all of those things, but based on Logan’s laser-focus method of living and his mule-headed character, she guessed he also caused his mother, grandmother and granddad more than his fair share of grief. Not to mention plenty of sleepless nights for those same adults.
Standing since the coldness of the swing had, by now, soaked clear through, she shielded the glare of the morning sun with her hand and stared up to the second floor of the house, where the lower half of the roof jutted out at a narrow and precarious angle right in front of Logan’s bedroom. And she couldn’t stop herself from wondering now about the teenage Logan.
Had he ever crawled out of his window, onto that sloping ledge, and jumped straight to the ground with the certainty that no harm would come to pass, in an effort to meet a group of his buddies or even a girl he was soft on? She thought he probably had, at least once.
It was something she would have done, but not for those purposes. Anytime Anna had sneaked out of her house, her goal had been the simple one of escape. Solitude. Oh, she never went farther than the back of their yard, where she’d sit and look at the stars...and talk to her mom. In whispers, usually with tears, her yearning for Ruby so deep and strong she literally ached with the loss.
Sometimes, though, she’d be angry. So angry with her mom for dying, for leaving her and her sisters alone to deal with the fallout, with the unapproachable and unloving man their father had become, that she’d say awful, awful things into the night air.
After the anger, after the horrible words, her little girl’s heart would break all over again, and she’d return to her whispers and her tears. Her incredible feeling of loss.
Anna sighed and pushed the memories down deep, where they belonged. Those days were far behind her, thank goodness, and she was no longer that sad, lost little girl. Hadn’t been for years. But it was a heavy, somber thought. Too heavy and too somber for Christmas Eve, especially when surrounded by such beauty, serenity...and yes, Logan’s word, reverence.
Logan. She hadn’t yet come to terms with the startling realization that she was already halfway through the process of falling in love. Yeah, right. Whom did she think she was fooling? She’d zipped right on by the halfway mark and was now closing in on three-quarters.
Didn’t matter, she supposed, how far gone she was or how far she had yet to go. The facts were the facts, and while she had zero plans of wearing her heart on her sleeve, she also refused to tuck away her feelings as if they were shameful. They weren’t.
And she wouldn’t waste a second of their time together by playing a game of pretend. If she felt like laughing, she’d go ahead and laugh. If she felt like crying, she’d cry until she ran out of tears. And if she wanted to smear buttercream frosting on various parts of Logan’s rock-hard body, and he was willing to let her do so...well, then why wouldn’t she?
She couldn’t deny that pain might lurk in the distance, waiting to gobble her whole, but if fortune were to look down upon her kindly, she might just find enormous joy at the other end. When faced with those two possibilities, joy won out. Every time.
As if in total agreement with this perspective, a resounding series of lightning-fast kicks vibrated inside Anna’s belly. And she laughed—because that was what she wanted to do—good and loud. “Okay, my little angel,” she murmured, “let’s go find some breakfast.”
Logan was probably searching for her by now, and she guessed she’d find Carla and Rosalie—Logan’s slight, frail-looking grandmother—in the kitchen. While both women had greeted her with restraint, they had also kindly welcomed her into their home. As the evening wore on, the women continued to eye her in unabashed curiosity but kept their questions to themselves. And Zeke, Logan’s grandfather, hadn’t said much of anything.
It made for an awkward evening, but Anna understood. She was, after all, a newcomer. And since Logan had told his family the entire truth regarding their marriage, they knew she was a temporary newcomer, at that. So, she’d respected the distance and chose to ignore the quiet curiosity. But maybe today, supposing everyone loosened their reserve some, she’d ask Carla or Rosalie about Logan’s childhood: antics he pulled, funny things he said, the name of the first girl he was ever sweet on. Anything and everything they were willing to share, she wanted to hear.
Maybe they’d even pull out their photo albums. She’d love to see a baby picture of Logan so she’d know if their daughter resembled him when she was born.
Walking slowly, Anna rounded the curving corner of the porch and was heading toward the back door when Logan stepped outside. His eyes found hers and he smiled.
“There you are,” he said, leaning his tall, strong, oh-so-masculine form against the side of the house. “I woke up early and went to get a little work done before the day started, and when I went in search of you, found that you had escaped. I...well, I was worried.”
“Nothing to worry about, as you can see.” She wasn’t surprised to hear he’d decided to work on Christmas Eve. She also wasn’t surprised that he’d worried about her. Both traits fit. “I wanted some time alone, is all, to scope out the area and relax. I...I’m glad I’m here, Logan.”
“I’m glad you’re here, too, Anna.”
A simple enough statement, but it wound around Anna’s heart. And then, also because she wanted to, she stood on her tiptoes and laid a soft kiss on his scratchy cheek. “You look quite handsome today, Mr. Daugherty,” she said. “And very much like a cowboy.”
Complete, even, with a dark brown, semicrushed-at-the-brim cowboy hat.
“Well, darlin’,” he said in an affected drawl and with a slight tip of his hat, “when you’re in Wyoming you gotta dress the part. And might I say you’re looking quite spiffy yourself?”
He was joking, naturally, but that didn’t stop the warm glow of pleasure from drenching her cheeks or drizzling down the back of her neck. Nor did it stomp out the wish—the hope—that he found her attractive. Sexy and beautiful would be nice, but she’d settle for pretty.
“You may,” she teased right back. “So long as you use a term different from spiffy.�
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“Hmm. How about—” he gave her a protracted, intense look “—darlin’, you’re as lovely as a dewdrop glistening in the light of the morning sun.” He winked. “Better than spiffy?”
“Perhaps a little over the top,” she said, “but yes, much better.”
“I aim to please.” Suddenly, his cowboy bravado was gone, replaced by a tender sort of sweetness. “Are you too cold to sit out here with me for a minute? I have something I want to give you. And I’d rather do so in privacy.”
Would this man ever stop surprising her? “Oh, I think I can manage a few more minutes before I turn into an ice cube.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, leading her toward the swing, “I’ll keep you warm. Promise.”
Simple words, again, but they lit a fire in her belly and filled her heart with contentment. Yes, she was—at the very least—three-quarters gone. “I don’t believe you’ve ever had any difficulty in that department,” she said as they sat on the swing. “And I hope that what you’re about to give me isn’t a Christmas present, since we agreed not to exchange gifts.”
“It’s a man’s prerogative to change his mind.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, gaily wrapped box. “And when I saw this, I couldn’t resist. If it makes you feel better, consider this a—” He paused, frowned. “I was going to say ‘consider this a belated birthday present,’ but I realized I have no idea when your birthday is. That’s...wrong.”
She knew when his birthday was, of course. In the dead heat of summer, August third. She’d seen him write down the date when they filled out the paperwork for their marriage certificate, and she’d tucked the information into her memory for future reference.
“Well, first, I believe the saying is that it’s a woman’s prerogative, but I suppose men can change their minds, as well,” she said. “And my birthday is October eighth.”
“Ah, that makes you a Libra,” he said with a quick, effortless grin. “And don’t ask me how I know that, unless you want to hear about one of my more...um...quirky ex-girlfriends.”
“I’ll listen to whatever you want to share. Even stories about quirky exes.”
“Maybe I will tell you at some point, but right now I’d rather give you this.” He passed her the box, his gaze steady and sure. “Christmas gift, or a belated birthday gift, this is for you.”
After slipping off one of her gloves, Anna picked at the tape on the paper, trying to keep the gift wrap whole. She’d save it and the box as a reminder of this moment. Of her happiness.
Removing the lid from the box, she prepped herself to express the proper amount of gratitude for whatever she might find. Some men gave great gifts. Others, not so much. But the prepping wasn’t necessary, because what Logan had chosen for her was...perfect. Delight and pleasure soaked in, along with a burst of emotion. No. He would never stop surprising her.
She looked at Logan, who watched her with intent focus. “Do you like it?” he asked.
“No,” she said, her voice hushed. “I love it.”
Returning her attention to the gift, she pulled the necklace free and held it in front of her by the fragile chain to see the pendant better. It was formed in the shape of a tree with many twisty, slender branches, and on one of those branches was a single light blue gemstone. An aquamarine. The birthstone for March, for their daughter.
Tears saturated her eyes. “Logan, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his tenor rich with unsaid emotion. “I saw the pendant at a jewelry store, looked up the birthstone for March, and...well, that’s what we ended up with. Down the road, you can add other birthstones to the branches. Yours, if you want.”
And his, if they stayed together. Additional children, too, as they were born, if there were more in their combined futures. Or if not, she supposed, then in hers.
“Help me put it on?” she asked, handing him the necklace. She unzipped and loosened her coat from her neck. “I don’t want to drop it.”
“Of course I’ll help.” He unfastened the clasp and draped the chain around her neck while she held her hair out of the way. As he did, his hands brushed along her skin, his touch gentle and warm. “There,” he said. “Finished. Face me, so I can see... Yeah. Beautiful, sweetheart.”
“Thank you,” she said, “for thinking of me in such a lovely way.”
“You’re welcome. I... As I said, it seemed a fitting gift.” And then he leaned toward her, cupped her face with his hands and kissed her on the lips. A sweet, short kiss, but not without heat. Not without that zing of electricity. They separated, and he said, “Merry Christmas, Anna.”
“Merry Christmas back.” Then, swallowing the sigh nestled in her throat, Anna looped her arm through Logan’s, saying, “Now, I need you to feed me, cowboy. This baby of yours is about to chew a hole through my stomach, she’s so hungry.”
“We can’t let that happen, now can we? Breakfast should be just about ready, as Mom was making a heap of pancakes and bacon when I found you.” With that, they stood and he tucked her securely to his side as they walked to the back door. “Oh, and Anna?”
“Yes, Logan?”
“I really do think you’re as lovely as a dewdrop glistening in the light of the morning sun.” Clearing his throat, he said, “Truth is, I’m often stunned into silence by the sight of you.”
And oh. Wow. Just...wow.
Before she could absorb his words, let alone respond properly, he pulled them into the warm, bustling kitchen. Where his family waited at the food-laden table. So for now, she kept her peace. Later, though, when they were alone and assured of privacy, she’d take great pleasure in showing him just how much his words meant.
Because really, stunned into silence? By the sight of her? It was, by far, the best compliment she’d ever received. From anyone. Bar none.
And hearing such a sentiment from Logan today, on Christmas Eve of all days, gave another hard yank on her hope, on the heartstrings. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to view her and therefore their relationship from a new, possibly more permanent, perspective.
A lovely thought. Lovelier, even, than Logan’s glistening, lit-up dewdrop.
* * *
Logan sat down in front of his grandfather’s desk and gathered the papers that needed signing. Hopefully, they’d get through this quickly. It was a holiday, after all, and while he never minded work, his thoughts were on Anna. On spending the day with her.
But Zeke still had his doubts about Patrick “Trick” McCaffrey, their would-be partner in the crop share lease, and he might just put up another fuss. The problem was that Trick, a longtime friend of Logan’s, had walked away from his family’s ranching enterprise for a career on the bull-riding circuit. Seeing how he was the eldest McCaffrey child and the only son, his departure wasn’t taken kindly by his parents or the ranching community.
Last year, in the middle of a bull-riding event, in the middle of competition season, Trick had taken a spill and got hurt, badly enough to cut his career short. He’d come home to try to make amends and had quickly been shown the door.
And that was how he and Logan had started talking about entering into a crop share lease, utilizing Bur Oak’s unconnected acreage. After a lot of discussion, they’d finally reached an agreement they were both sufficiently happy with. Now, with the contract ready to sign, Logan just needed his grandfather to complete the deal. God willing, he would.
He heard Zeke in the living room, responding to a softly asked question posed by his grandmother. The two talked for a minute or so before Zeke entered the office.
“All right,” he said, settling his long, spare frame in the king-size, tall-backed, dark brown leather chair behind his desk. “I don’t know why you’re so damn set on working with this cockroach, but your grandmother’s out there having a fit we’re
in here at all. Let’s just get this over with.”
“Sure, but seeing how we’re going into business with Patrick, you might want to stop calling him a cockroach.” Logan shuffled the papers to the signature page, saying, “He made a tough decision, one that he knew would cause waves, and he followed that up by doing everything in his power to help his family with the transition.”
“The man’s lucky he’s alive,” Zeke muttered, accepting the sheaf of papers Logan pushed across the also king-size desk. “I suppose he’s learned his lesson, though it took him too darn long. Otherwise he wouldn’t be back here, now would he?”
Logan didn’t respond, just pointed to the areas requiring Zeke’s attention. His grandfather huffed and puffed and rolled his eyes a fair amount, but after reading through the text, he signed and initialed where indicated without any further protest.
“There,” Zeke said, shoving the papers toward Logan.
“That was easier than I expected,” Logan said. “And unless you have more on the agenda, we’re all done. So we can lend a hand in the living room.”
Which was where Carla, Rosalie and Anna were, digging through the numerous boxes of ornaments he’d brought in earlier. Trimming the tree on Christmas Eve had been, and would likely remain, a Cordero family tradition. Soon enough, Logan’s aunts and uncles and cousins would arrive to decorate the tree, eat too much food, cause some havoc and open gifts.
Zeke nodded but didn’t move. “She’s a pretty gal, at least,” he said, staring through the doorway into the next room, presumably at Anna. “I expect she’ll present you with an attractive enough daughter. She’s probably gonna be on the puny side, based on those impractically narrow hips her mama has, though she’ll grow. Babies always grow.”
One, there was not a thing wrong with Anna’s hips. Two, Logan had to hope that she had not heard that specific comment. While he knew that his grandfather hadn’t meant any disrespect, Anna wouldn’t, and he didn’t want her to get the wrong impression. Zeke tended to say whatever shot up in his brain, and if any of those musings were disrespectful in nature, he’d make that as plain as day. Mostly, Logan shrugged off his grandfather’s off-the-cuff remarks.
Rock-a-Bye Bride Page 12
