“You were being mean to my Mamma.”
Kendall eased back and looked at her daughter. Marissa stared at Logan with a determined expression on her face, as if ready to do battle. It reminded Kendall, painfully, of the expression he’d worn moments earlier when they’d argued about whether or not to tell Marissa the truth.
Logan squatted down beside them. “We were just talking.”
Kendall glanced at him. His gaze was focused on Marissa as if trying to absorb every movement, each nuance, of this first meeting. Kendall understood. The first few weeks of Marissa’s life, she’d spent hours staring at the miniscule miracle of her daughter, breathed deeply of her softly powdered perfection, and memorized the way she fisted her left hand while sleeping.
It hurt to be here, literally, between her daughter and the man Kendall had loved. So many years lost, so many moments missed. For all of them. And yet this first meeting, so long hoped for and dreamt of, was filled with tension and unease. She accepted the part she played in this scene. Still, she had to hold strong and protect her daughter’s tender heart in whatever way she could.
“You yelled at her,” Marissa insisted.
“I’m sorry we were loud,” Logan apologized.
“And I’m sorry we woke you,” Kendall said. On unsteady legs she stood, still holding Marissa in her arms. Logan stood as well.
“Who are you?”
There was that innocence Kendall wanted to protect. Such a simple question, and yet nothing about the answer was simple or easy. Everything could change in a single moment, depending on how Logan answered. And damn it all, she had mixed feelings about exactly what she wanted him to say.
Still, if the situation had been different, Kendall would have grinned at her daughter’s lack of restraint. She took pride in knowing she was raising Marissa to be self-confident and assured. Or at least she had until this moment.
“I’m Logan,” he answered. “And I would never hurt your mom. I promise. She used to be the best friend I ever had.”
“Is that why you were yelling? ’Cause you’re not friends anymore?”
“No.” His gaze flicked to Kendall. She couldn’t decipher the emotion she saw in the instant before he returned his attention to Marissa. “Your mom will always be very special to me because she gave me the most precious gift of my life.”
Kendall struggled with frustration at Logan for putting her in this position by using an echo of her earlier words. Still, she couldn’t deny her heart opened a little more with his obvious wonder at seeing and speaking with his daughter for the first time.
“My mamma sometimes buys me special presents when I’ve been good. I asked her for a horse for my birthday.” In her quicksilver way, Marissa’s line of thought changed. “Are you a cowboy?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Kendall nearly smiled at Marissa’s disappointment. Then decided they all needed a reminder. “Logan’s a soldier, come home for a visit.”
“I’m staying with my brother,” Logan said. “He has a ranch. With cattle and horses. Maybe you could come out and see them sometime.”
In an old habit, Marissa placed her small hands on either side of Kendall’s face, insuring she had her mother’s attention. “Can we go?”
“We’ll see.”
“Now, Mamma.”
“No, not now” Kendall said, tightening her hold on her wiggling daughter. “Now it’s nighttime.”
“But I want to go see the horses.”
“The horses are sleeping. Which is what you should be doing.”
“Tomorrow?”
Oh, how unfair it was to see that light of anticipation and excitement in her daughter’s face and know it was there because of something Logan offered. Even the knowledge that the promise would add bittersweet memories to her heart held no weight against the desire to make her daughter happy.
“I’ll have to check and see when I have a day off.”
The mirrored pleasure she saw on daughter and father had her knees going to water. Kendall used the need to boost the growing weight of her daughter in her arms to help steady her stance and her emotions. It struck her suddenly that her little girl was getting older. Soon she would be too big to be held.
“Right now, however, young lady, you need to go back to bed.”
“I gotta go potty,” Marissa declared and scrambled down out of Kendall’s embrace.
“I’ll help you.” Then she’d tuck her back in bed. Hopefully, that little space of distance would steady her turbulent emotions.
“I can do it myself.”
The declaration reinforced the fierce independence that was slowly but surely taking her daughter out of Kendall’s protective reach. Had her father ever felt this conflict between pride and alarm? Marissa shoved the stuffed dragon into Kendall’s hands. “You hold Blue.” She turned and skipped away, singing a tune from her favorite cartoon movie.
“She’s not what I expected.”
Kendall told herself that it didn’t matter, that she didn’t care what he thought or had expected. “What do you mean?”
“I guess I thought . . . well, hell. I mean, yeah, I looked at those pictures.” His head tilted toward the bookcase. “All I could think, all I wanted to think, is she’s little, more like a baby.”
“She’s a long way from that. And she needs to go back to bed.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her.
“I’m back,” Marissa said as she skipped into the living room.
Kendall turned away from the hot annoyance on Logan’s features, felt her lips curve. One corner of the hem of Marissa’s nightgown was stuck in the waistband of her pink panties. She knelt down to straighten the bed clothes. “Back to bed, little lady.”
“Mamma, rock me.”
The simple request, accompanied by those tiny arms locking around her neck and the hazel eyes that were the perfect blend between Kendall’s brown and Logan’s green ones, was impossible to resist. It wouldn’t be long before Marissa was too big, or considered herself too old, to sit in her mother’s lap and be rocked. How could Kendall deny herself a pleasure that would all too soon no longer be hers?
It would also give her a means of tucking Marissa beneath her protective arm against Logan’s penetrating, eager gaze. “For just a little bit.”
“What’s a bit?”
“You are.”
Marissa giggled as she was scooped up. “I’m getting bigger.”
“I know. I’m going to have to tie a brick on your head so I can keep you my little girl.”
LOGAN’S ARMS tightened painfully across his chest at Kendall’s possessive claim. In no way had he been prepared for this unexpected, fierce need to be the one sitting in a rocking chair with his daughter on his lap. He watched as Marissa twisted and shifted, causing Kendall to wince twice, until Marissa and her stuffed dragon settled into just the right spot. One hard push by Kendall’s small foot set the rocker into motion. Marissa slipped her right index finger into her mother’s hand, and Kendall used the pad of her thumb to begin a rhythmic stroking from knuckle to tip.
Neither mother nor daughter looked his way.
He felt like an intruder as he sat on the sofa, leaning forward as he balanced his forearms on his thighs and watched them, hungry for even this tiny glimpse into their lives. It was obvious that Kendall and Marissa shared a bond, one that didn’t include him. He honestly didn’t believe Kendall deliberately tried to exclude him; it was simply her and Marissa’s habit to sit like this. They didn’t need him. The two of them had existed as a family for more than four years. If he left tomorrow, it would hardly cause a ripple in their lives.
It didn’t take long for Kendall’s soft conversation to soothe Marissa into sleep. When she started to stand, with an ease
that belied the weight of a sleeping child in her arms, Logan stood and took a step forward.
“Can I?” he asked, holding out his hands, fighting off resentment when Kendall hesitated. Then, finally—slowly—she passed Marissa to him.
The weight staggered him, not the physical weight but the emotional punch of holding his child for the first time. Marissa slept through this moment, but Logan knew he would never forget it. He’d missed so much. Her first smile, her first step, her first word. How many more moments would he miss if he signed his reenlistment papers?
Marissa shifted, her legs crossing at the ankle as she rubbed her nose against the fur of her stuffed dragon. He’d no sooner adjusted his hold and calmed the frantic beat of his heart, before she moved again. This time, she nestled against his chest with a small sigh.
“I made the mistake of letting her sleep with me one night,” Kendall said, her gaze on the girl, her lips lifting in a small smile. “It’s not a mistake I’ve repeated.”
“She smells like strawberries.”
“Her shampoo.”
He stared down at his daughter, in no particular hurry to carry her into her room and lose this chance to hold her. Kendall lifted a hand and lightly stroked it down the curls of their child. He had an acute remembrance of her hand trailing down his bare chest in much the same manner.
“Your shampoo always smelled like honeysuckle.”
Kendall dropped her hand, shoved both hands into her slack pockets as she refused to look up at him. “Her room is this way.”
Logan followed Kendall, pausing once as Marissa tossed in his arms. The bedroom was small, barely large enough for the narrow bed and a small chest of drawers. He stood still, surveying the shelves stuffed with books, the assortment of toys scattered on the floor, as Kendall smoothed the tousled covers.
When he lay Marissa down, he didn’t back away and let Kendall take over the tucking-in duty. He paused and waited for Marissa to toss and turn before settling, then slipped the sheet lightly over her, bringing it up to her shoulders. She immediately stuck out one leg, kicking him in the shin before she hooked it over the top of the sheet. Leaning down, he brushed his lips over her warm cheek.
Straightening, he stared at Kendall for a long moment before he wrapped a hand around her arm and guided her back to the living room.
“She doesn’t like me,” he said and released his hold on her arm.
“She doesn’t know you,” Kendall answered with a fatigue-filled sigh.
“I’m a father, her father.” The words, the reality now that he’d seen her, talked with her, held her, cut Logan off at the knees. He rubbed hands over his face when what he wanted to do was wrap Kendall in his arms and hold on.
“God, Kendall, we have a child. And she’s beautiful.” He looked at her, saw some of the exhaustion she spoke of. She could have made so many other choices. Instead she’d had his child, had raised Marissa to be bright and loving. It couldn’t have been easy, especially given the way her father would have reacted.
“Thank you,” he said, swallowing down the emotion that threatened to lodge in his throat. “Thank you for raising her, for letting me see her tonight.”
Kendall closed her eyes and swayed on her feet. Logan took a step forward, afraid she might collapse. Yet he didn’t reach for her, didn’t hold her against his chest. He hated knowing his insistence piled weight onto her slim shoulders. And yet, what else could he do? He was hungry for all she could tell him about her life, and that of their daughter, in the years he’d been away.
She drew in a deep breath. Before he did what he knew he shouldn’t—wrap his arms around her—he took a small step back. Her eyes opened and she met his gaze. “I’ll make coffee.”
GUNFIRE AND THE bright flash of an explosion woke Logan.
He reached for his pants while rolling off the cot. Only, the angle was off, and he ended up with a face filled with carpet. He sighed and rolled over so he could brace his back against the side of the bed and stare out the window at the dark sky growing pink with dawn. The nightmare drifted away like smoke from gunfire. Not Afghanistan, but home.
Go home, Cowboy, before it’s too late. Don’t wait like I did.
In his mind he heard the slurred words from his buddy, Dave, dying in his arms. He saw the blood, felt the grit in his eyes from sand being kicked up by exploding shells, heard the frantic voices screaming orders.
Well, he had come home, and it could be argued that he’d done so too late. Not only had he failed to come home in time to see his father, he’d disappointed his brother. Again. And, he’d missed out on the first four years of his daughter’s life.
If Kendall had her way, it could be a long, drawn-out process for him and Marissa to get to know one another. Guidelines, schedules, restrictions. She’d outlined them, black and white, with little or no room for adjustment. At one time, he’d admired—and often envied—her single-minded nature, the focus that so often ran straight and narrow. The focus, he supposed, that had enabled her to be a single mother while earning the sheriff’s badge she’d wanted for as long as he’d known her. Now, however much he understood the reasoning behind the request, a part of him resented her plan that they take a slow, methodical approach to this situation.
Restless, he stood and finished dressing. He’d become accustomed to following orders, had found a certain amount of freedom in relinquishing responsibility. But he’d be damned if Kendall dictated or controlled how and when he saw his daughter.
And every time he saw Marissa, he’d be reminded of the night with Kendall.
He couldn’t say he’d often dwelled on the memories of that last night, the night that created the miracle of a young girl. But watching the two of them last night, hearing the soft hushed tones between them, had brought back every sensation of being with Kendall.
Her skin had been so soft the last time he’d seen her, touched her. Despite the dark of the night around them, he’d noticed the blush spread over her cheeks when she’d leaned forward to surprise him with that first kiss. He’d known she was innocent, had used that as his reasoning for them to stop. But her mouth had been so sweet and inviting. And it had tempted him with her relentless return to his. He supposed knowing that he planned to leave the next day had contributed to his state of mind of wanting to have a good memory to take with him.
When she’d used the tip of her tongue to trace along his lips, he’d had little choice but to open and take the kiss further. She’d been slow and deliberate, the focus he’d so often admired about her fortifying her continued assault on his senses.
Then those shy hands had traveled across his shoulders, over his chest, down his belly. She’d hesitated then, as if unsure what to do next. He’d thought this would be the break he needed; this would be when she realized they needed to stop. Instead, she’d taken his hand in hers and molded it around her breast. Despite her innocence, she’d tilted back her head and moaned. Her face had been alive with wonder and discovery, her eyes blazing with a growing awareness and sense of power. Her lips had curved ever so slightly. Driven by a force stronger than restraint, he’d given in and accepted what she offered, took what he suddenly wanted with a desperation and hunger he’d never known before.
He’d been with other women since then, but right now, visualizing her with the daughter they’d made, he couldn’t recall a single detail about any of those others. And, he admitted, given half a chance, he wouldn’t go back and change the outcome of that night.
A familiar squeak from the stairs had his mind returning to the present rather than taking another stroll down that pivotal night of his past. He took a step toward the bedroom door only to suck in a deep breath at the constricting fit of his jeans. Hell, he didn’t need thoughts of Kendall complicating an already turbulent time in his life. If he thought of her—and damn it all to hell and back, he knew it would
be when he thought of her—it was best for those thoughts to be in the context of her being Marissa’s mother and not his previous lover.
With a glance over his shoulder, he stared at the dresser drawer where he’d laid the pictures Kendall had given him of Marissa. They rested on top of his reenlistment papers.
Maybe Kendall had it right to keep the truth from Marissa. Until he knew if he was staying or not, it was probably better to keep quiet about their family connection. After all, his past wasn’t exactly littered with good family relations.
He and Carter had never seen eye to eye. Some of those differences and disputes had been set in motion by the old man, but some were the result of Logan’s own willful stubbornness. He liked to think he’d matured, had seen enough of the world to better accept that he and his brother didn’t have to always see eye to eye in order to get along. Granted, they’d gotten off on the wrong foot due to him returning home two months after the death of their father, but maybe—just maybe—they could find a balance. And hiding out in his old bedroom was no way to correct the regrets of the past.
“Didn’t expect to see you this morning,” Carter said, when Logan walked into the kitchen.
“Couldn’t sleep.” Logan went to the refrigerator in search of orange juice. Leaning back on the counter, he drank from the carton. “Since I’m up, you want some help around the ranch this morning?”
“Can always use help.” Carter poured milk over his cereal. “Just how many horses you been on in the last five years?”
“I can still outride you.”
“Always could.” Carter’s grin vanished as quickly as it appeared. “The old man never did understand why you wanted to work with the horses instead of the cattle.”
“I think it was more he didn’t like that I went against what he said, instead of going along with him.” Logan returned the carton of orange juice to the refrigerator. He found a bowl and spoon, sat across from Carter, shook some cereal out of the box, and added milk.
Cowboy On Her Doorstep (Montgomery Brothers Book 1) Page 3
