Chapter Two
Logan rolled very slowly in the direction of the bathroom. While fog took control outside, fragrant steam was flowing from the open bathroom door. Nice acoustics, he decided, listening to the familiar song being belted out in deep perfection. Hallelujah. That was the song she was singing. No music, just a really good voice.
He lay silent, trying to figure out how to straighten things out without problems. The simple answer was the truth, consequences be damned. Then the bathroom door was pulled open. Dressed in a stark white tank top tucked neatly into a form fitting, hip hugging pair of jeans, she moved into the room, hands up and briskly rubbing a towel over her head, wincing now and then.
“Good morning,” Sam announced with a bright smile. “I hope I didn’t wake you…”
“Where’d you learn to sing like that?” Logan shook his head the instant the question was out of his mouth. “Sorry…It’s a good song. You do it justice.”
“I don’t know where it came from…I just knew it,” Sam shrugged with a glance toward the kitchen. “Do you drink coffee? I was going to make some for you…”
“I do drink coffee and it would be appreciated,” he admitted, running two heavy palms over his face and head.
“I have a couple bruises…on my hip and side. Must be where I fell. I looked through my backpack before I showered. I had basic stuff in there,” she rambled as she prepared the coffee. “I was relieved to see I didn’t smoke…and really grateful to note that you don’t either…I’m not sure about the coffee…isn’t it odd the things you remember and the weird things that are just…gone…”
Logan didn’t have answers, watching as she went to the table and held up a large wire brush, sitting on the end of the bed and bending forward, damp red hair hanging down as she worked through the length.
“We need to shop,” Sam announced firmly.
“We do, huh?” Logan gave up and pushed the blankets out of the way, his feet down on the floor with a long sigh.
“We have no food. And I have no clothes. I think the bank would be a good first place to go, though,” Sam continued brushing. The scent of coffee filling the suite and making her smile. “I like the smell of coffee. It feels…warm.”
“It tastes better than warm,” Logan breathed gratefully. “Why the bank?”
“Hmm…cause there’s a little thing called a pin number that is among the missing bits inside my bumpy head,” Sam sat up abruptly, the long hair falling in rampant glory around her face and shoulders. Fingers worked to fluff it into place, her wince evident now and then.
“Hold still and let me see your head,” Logan set the large mug down and moved to her side, fingers carefully weaving through the thick hair. “That’s some lump…but no blood…I should have checked last night, but you seemed okay. Headache?” He stepped back, very aware of the sweet fragrant soap and shampoo and more aware of the bright green eyes and bright smile.
“No…it’s just sore to the touch now…anyway…back to the bank thing,” Sam went to the table, slowly loading miscellaneous things back into the pack. Hairbrush and wallet; pill container and note pad; several pens, a small rose quartz heart and a set of keys. She frowned at them but threw them into the pack. A small cosmetic bag she opened and applied some mascara, smiling into the little mirror before dropping it all into the pack and pulling the tie and lifting it to her shoulders. It fit perfectly. Way more practical than a purse, she thought, letting it slide to the bed as she perched on the edge.
“Food first,” Logan declared, gathering the freshly folded stack of clothing. Why did the idea of telling her the truth keep getting kicked to the back of his brain? He didn’t have an answer. Especially when he walked back into the main room to find the open and honest appraisal from the redhead. She stood up slowly making him realize she had to be almost six foot tall with her boots on.
He was working the small razor over his face.
“Food would be good. I think I missed last night’s dinner,” Sam said with a slight frown, the grumbling in her stomach getting louder. “The beard thing suits you,” she sat on the bed, elbows on her knees and palms cupping her chin as she watched him. “It’s quite…distinguishing, I think…and a little sinister.”
“Sinister?” Logan laughed, putting the razor back into his travel bag on the bathroom counter.
“Oh, don’t try and tell me you don’t know the impression you give, Logan,” Sam laughed. “I bet you calculate everything very carefully. You have very dark hair and eyes…add the little goatee and moustache and while I believe I find it immensely attractive, I bet there are some who would be intimidated by the image you put out to the public.”
“Intimidated,” he repeated, very aware of her presence suddenly when she stood up.
“Can I touch it?” She laughed brightly, her head shaking. “The beard, Logan.”
“I knew that,” he answered tartly, freezing in place when she walked to stand in front of him, her palm up and stroking lightly over his face.
“It’s very soft,” she breathed, eyes traveling over the high cheeks, squared jaw and beating pulse. He was tan and had a small scar above his eye. Her fingertips brushed over it softly.
“Sam…” Logan broke the spell, taking her hand and moving to the side, cursing softly and adjusting his slacks. “Let me get some shoes and we can go. Food and then the bank.”
“I’m ready,” She declared, lifting her little pack and moving to the door. “We have a key card?”
“Going in my pocket now,” Logan shrugged into the sport coat, checked the pocket for his phone and wallet before moving to join her at the door. It never dawned on him that he’d have to create an explanation for why they were in a hotel without people.
“Logan,” Sam walked with him to the elevator, her head cocked and eyes sweeping the area around them. “It’s very quiet here.”
“That’s because we’re the only ones here at the moment,” Logan pressed the ground floor, laughing at the innocently quizzical expression on her face. Her driver’s license told him she was slightly younger than him at thirty-four, but there were times he swore he saw a little girl peeking out from those wide, sexy green eyes.
Sam entered the lobby of the huge hotel, turning and taking in all the furnishing and décor and total lack of people. “Why? Do you work here?”
“Not yet…it’s not finished. A couple weeks of work left to do,” Logan pulled his keys free and aimed them at the only vehicle in the parking lot, his hand out to pull the door wide for her.
“Seriously? So we get to stay here free?” Sam slid onto the comfortable seats, the deep red of the SUV felt a little decadent.
“For now.” He started the car, guiding them to the gate and nodding at the security guard as they passed through.
“Are you the manager?” Sam shifted to the side, watching the scenery and unfamiliar streets and shops.
“Something like that…what are you hungry for?” He knew a few small places, places that were owned by old friends of his.
“Food. Anything at this point,” she said honestly. And she did the platter of chicken fried steak and eggs justice, leaning back a long time later with a contented sigh. “That was delicious, Jack…thank you.”
“He shouldn’t be starving a pretty lady like you,” Jack Hudson said with a wink, pushing up out of his chair with a clap on Logan’s shoulder. “Be seeing a lot more of you now you’ve moved back?”
“Occasionally, Jack,” Logan tossed some money onto the table. “You’ve done a great job with this place.”
“We’ll be back, Jack…I promise…” Sam told him with a glowing smile. “I like this place,” she said honestly as they crossed the small parking lot to the SUV. “Did you like being in the military?” She had listened and watched the interaction between the men. She didn’t have to be told that Logan had been an officer in the military, his demeanor and nature seemed to tell on him. But she also didn’t need to be told that Logan had helped Jack follow the dr
eam of opening his own diner.
“I learned a lot there. I liked parts of it…tolerated others,” Logan said honestly, guiding them onto the streets that were quickly clearing of the fog, a bright sunshine burning off the grey.
“You’re a complex man, Logan.”
“You think?” He just shrugged. “I think we’re all complex in our own way. The bank,” Logan pulled the SUV to the far side, striding to join her. A frown creased his lips only for a moment when she took his hand, fingers twined together as they walked. Why did things he would never have considered before now coming to him as natural as breathing? He was almost thirty-seven years old. People his age didn’t walk around holding hands. Then he glimpsed a couple in the sixties exiting the bank. As if she could read his mind, Sam peeked over at him with a grin.
Logan watched the people in the bank, his eyes closed for a minute and his curse low. They knew him here. This was where the payroll was being routed. He saw attention in one woman’s eyes, the phone lifted and another head bent and murmuring to another executive in a suit.
“Sam?” Logan saw her head bent, hand rummaging in her pack.
“Yeah…got it…” she moved to the short line and on to the counter, her smile warm as she laid out her debit card and identification. “I need help with a pin number.”
“Of course, Miss Elliott,” the young man was unaware of the flurry of activity going on around him until one of the managers came to his side.
“What can I help you with, Miss Elliott?”
Sam frowned with confusion that was equaled by the puzzled look on Logan’s face. “He was going to help me, it’s okay…I just need help with a pin number. I don’t remember it and I want to reset it to one I will never forget. Is that alright?”
“Of course, Miss Elliott,” the manger stepped through the gate, gesturing to the desk off to the side. “Over this way and we’ll get it all squared away for you.”
“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Sheffield?” Another manager appeared out of the back, this one a woman and wearing a branch manager lapel pin.
Logan had moved to stand with Sam, his hand on her shoulder. “Just waiting for my wife,” he amazed himself at how easily the words had rolled off his tongue. Why did these bank people know Sam so well that they were falling all over themselves to help her?
“I can’t change my name, can I?” Sam looked from one to the other expectantly.
“Change your name?” The woman repeated.
“We’re married and I wanted to change my name…but I don’t have the marriage form…oh, well, no matter,” she said with a bright smile. “Another time.” She listened and tapped in the number she wanted, writing it down inside her little notebook.
“Married?” Both managers looked stunned and then immediately issued congratulations to the couple. Assuring her they could change her name when she brought in the license.
“Good…and thank you both so much for your help with this. I hate to be a pain,” Sam tucked her wallet away and stood up with palm offered. “Thank you and have a great day.”
Logan was quiet, wondering what he’d set into motion with the declaration. How wild would the fire of information become and how many directions would it shoot off into?
“Do you know where the shops are?” Sam buckled the seat belt, her fingers toying with the end. “Logan…I don’t want anyone to know…”
“To know what, Sam?” He wasn’t sure how he kept getting lost in their conversations.
“About my bumpy head thing. I think…I just want to pretend it’s all okay. I’m sure it’ll come back any day,” she declared firmly, wanting to believe it as strongly as she had said it.
“Okay, we’ll keep your bumpy head a secret between us, how’s that?”
He laughed at the scrunched up nose aimed in his direction. “Careful your face doesn’t freeze like that,” he teased.
“You don’t have to go with me…guys don’t usually care much for shop hopping.”
“Maybe us smart guys are different.”
“Well…you are quite smart,” she said seriously. “I promise not to dawdle.”
Logan had to wonder what part of her memory that line was coming from. This time he reached for her hand, holding onto her as they entered the Saturday shoppers, browsing, buying and laughing.
She was quick and decisive, he admitted an hour later. Several girl tee shirts and tank tops; three pairs of shorts and two of calf length jeans; a pair of comfortable walking shoes and a pair of two inch heels in black. Then they entered the lingerie shop. She looked around, found what she wanted and searched out size and colors to be tossed onto the counter. He’d been in shops like this. He bought presents for women through his life. But there was something that felt just a tad more intimate in this shopping trip. He actually blushed when she held up piece of pink and white lace to her front, her laughter soft as she added it to the try on pile.
Sam went into the small dressing room, trying on, turning and appraising and draping the ones she wasn’t buying on the door. She carried three others to the counter and pulled out her wallet.
“Hmmm…” Sam stopped outside the Sun Tropic store, held up her palm. “Wait here…do you have trunks?”
“I have swimming trunks,” Logan answered, ignoring her stay order and wandering through the store. “Of course, I’m not entirely sure they’re in the suitcase. Some stuff is in storage.”
Sam rolled her eyes at the young sale clerk and pulled a pair of nice black mid thigh trunks from the rack. She found two swimsuits for herself before going to the counter to pay. Another sack added to her collection in the growing shopping bag.
“Break time, lady,” Logan led her down one of the side lanes in the mall, stopping before the famous coffee logo.
“It would be nice to just start from here,” Sam said, lost in her thoughts.
“Start what, Sam?” Logan looked over the choices.
“Ohhh…” She sighed. “You know…us…just new…” she shrugged. “Don’t mind me. I’ll have a frappachino, caramel, vente with whipped crème, please, regular, not decaf.” Sam told the young coffee barista, turning and striding to a table with her packages. She relaxed in the iron chair, watching the girls and women wandering past. Her husband certainly attracted attention, yet he didn’t notice them checking him out, she thought with a smile that remained in place as he carried their coffees to the table. But he stopped before taking a seat or setting them down.
“I just happen to buy this weird drink…how about sharing a table with me?” Logan met the bright green eyes with a wink.
“That’s very kind of you,” Sam returned playfully. “My name’s Sam.”
“Logan…pleased to meet you, Sam,” and he sat opposite her. Sam held the straw to her lips, taking in a long swallow of the cold drink. “I’m glad I beat out all the guys checking you out over here all alone.”
“I have guys checking me out?” Sam looked around, laughing with him. “I guess that’s only fair…I won’t tell you about the girls I saw eyeing you, mister.”
Logan just shook his head, happy with the tall, hot fresh coffee. He looked at the clock in the coffee stand and then at his own watch. Noon already? He would have sworn they hadn’t been there over an hour.
“I think we’re ready for some groceries…juice and maybe milk…” Sam met his gaze. “You’re staring. Do I have whipped crème on my nose?” She wrinkled her nose, eyes crossing as she tried to check for herself.
“Your nose is good…stop before you damage my eyes,” Logan said through his laugh.
“It is really difficult to check out your own nose,” she took another long swallow. “These things are evil good.”
“How did you know what to order?” He asked quietly.
“How…I don’t know,” she answered, sighing. “And I don’t want to think about it. It’s like pondering time travel and the paradox of what could change from a single alteration…”
“Uhh…yeah…oka
y…” He stood up, coffee in one hand and taking her hand in his, her shopping bag dangling off her arm as they walked along.
“I think we’re done…I got all the basics I need…”
“Not quite,” Logan led her to a dress shop.
“I need a dress? For what?”
“Anniversary thing I…we’re…invited to next weekend. Friday and Saturday and both formal, black tie things,” Logan followed her into the shop, his gaze sweeping the gowns and dresses while she went up to a rack of simple, long dresses. Sam pulled out a simple spaghetti strap, fitted bodice with long skirt and a slit up the side in a sparkling marine blue.
“How’s this?”
“Try it on…let me see,” Logan selected a short dress that would go just past her knees. It had a corset type top with lace scallops and a draping skirt in shades of melting gold. “This one, too, Sam.”
Sam took the dress and went to the counter, handed her bag to Logan and went into the dressing room. A few minutes later, she opened the door, arm up and making a slow turn before the man watching her. A shiver ran along her spine when his eyes began at the hem and moved very slowly along her body.
Sam took a couple steps forward, deliberately slow and teasing, her palm up and touching the lapel of his jacket.
“I think you approve, Logan,” her own eyes strayed to the front of his jeans, her laughter and his curse barely heard outside the little chamber. Sam went back behind the door, the long gown draped over the top as she dropped the shorter dress over her head. “Hmmm…” she reached behind her and unsnapped her bra, leaving it on the bench.
Logan felt his mouth drop open when the door opened and Sam backed out of the dressing room. Her arms were close to her sides, holding the top in place, the long expanse of her back open to view. His hand came out instinctively, taking the zipper from low on her behind to the top.
WindSwept Narrows: # 1 Samantha Elliott Page 2
