“See, Wren might want her. Or I’ll keep her for myself if I have to.”
“All these options you have for where you might have taken her. And yet, you brought her here.”
“Yeah. But first, I stopped at the vet. I got lucky and they were still open. I bought everything she’ll need. Food and bowls, litter, a litter box, a scooper thing, a scratching post, a few toys and a bed. The kid who gave her to me said she’s ten weeks old and hasn’t had any shots. So I had the vet give them to her—along with a checkup. She’s a healthy little girl, no sign of fleas. And she’ll need her next shots in three to four weeks.”
“Thought of everything, did you?”
“Sarah.” He’d adopted his most reasonable, placating tone. “Don’t be mad, okay? I meant what I said. I don’t expect you to keep her.”
For some reason, she wanted to burst out laughing. He looked so worried and she was having way too much fun giving him a hard time about this.
And as for the kitten, the last thing she needed was another baby to care for. However...
“When I was a kid, I always wanted a cat,” she heard herself saying.
His eyes went soft as the midsummer sky. “You did?”
“My parents didn’t allow pets. As I mentioned that first day in the office at the Ambling A, my parents were different back then. But I’m not saying I’ll keep her.”
He put his hand to his heart. “What did I tell you? If you don’t want her, I’ll take her with me tomorrow when I go.”
So then, he was staying overnight again? She had no urge to argue about that. In fact, she was glad. Probably gladder than she should let herself be. “Does this kitten have a name?”
“Not yet. I figured you would want to name her yourself—I mean, if you decide to keep her.”
“How thoughtful of you.”
Now he grinned. “Knock it off with the sarcasm. You just admitted you like cats. And I’m telling you, you’re not going to be able to resist this one.” And with that, he pushed open the door and signaled her in ahead of him.
She saw the tiny kitten immediately. All white, with a perfect pink nose and ears, and the prettiest, blue-opal eyes, she sat beneath the dining area table. “Oh, my God,” Sarah heard herself whisper. “She’s adorable.”
Those gorgeous, wide eyes regarded her from that perfect little face.
Setting her laptop on the coffee table and letting the diaper bag slide to the carpet, Sarah dropped to a crouch. “Hey there.” She held out her hand. “Come here, you little angel. Come on...”
The kitten dipped her head to the side, considering. “Reow?” she said as though asking a question, but she didn’t budge.
“Such a pretty girl.” She coaxed, “Come on, come here...”
That did it. The kitten stood. Delicately, she stretched her front legs and widened her paws. White whiskers twitching, she yawned. And then finally, after a few extra seconds of ladylike hesitation, she strutted out from under the table. White tail high, she paraded across the dining room and straight for Sarah, stopping when she reached her to delicately sniff her outstretched fingers.
Sarah waited until the kitten dropped to her butt again before daring to reach out. The kitten was already purring. Sarah pulled her close. Cradling the little snowball against her heart, she stood.
From behind her, Logan chuckled. “So then, what’s her name?”
“Opal,” she said without turning, bending her head to nuzzle the kitten’s wonderfully soft fur. “Opal, for those eyes.”
* * *
“Thank you for Opal,” Sarah said. It was a little past eleven that night. They were tucked up in bed together and had been for a couple of beautiful hours. Earlier, after sharing dinner, they’d made the calls to set up the painting party for next week. Sophia had been asleep since eight or so. With any luck, she wouldn’t wake up until daylight.
As for the kitten in question, Opal was sleeping in her new bed in the laundry room with the litter box close by. Sarah had wanted to bring her to bed with them, but the vet had advised Logan that she should sleep in her own bed with easy access to her litter box until she got a little older.
Logan chuckled. The sound was a lovely rumble beneath Sarah’s left ear because she was using his warm, hard chest for a pillow. “I knew you would want her.” He eased his fingers into her hair and idly combed it outward over her shoulders and down her back. “And I’ve been thinking...”
She stacked her hands on his chest and rested her chin on them. “Uh-oh. What now?”
“You need an electric garage-door opener.”
She lifted up enough to plant a kiss on his square, beard-scruffy jaw. “No, I do not.”
“Yeah, you really do. And when winter comes, you know you’ll thank me. You don’t need to be staggering around on your icy driveway trying to get the garage door up.”
“There will be staggering whether I have an electric opener or not. I still have to make it from the garage to the house.”
“Right.” He was frowning. “And you’ll be carrying Sophia and a laptop in that giant bag of yours—and that diaper bag, too. It’s too dangerous.”
“Logan, let it be.”
“A side door to the garage and an enclosed breezeway leading around to the back door would fix the problem. No matter how bad the weather gets, you and Sophia would be safe and protected.”
“That’s a major project, Logan.”
“Just let me deal with it. It’s not that big a thing.”
It was a big thing. Really, he was relentless—and in the most wonderful way. “Stop. I mean it. Let it go.”
He guided a lock of hair back over her shoulder with a slow, gentle touch. “Think about it.”
She needed to change the subject, fast. And she knew exactly how to do it. They’d already made love twice.
Time to go for number three.
Lifting up again, she pressed her lips to his. He let out a low growl of pleasure as he opened for her. She eased her tongue in, sliding it slowly against his.
His arms banded around her, so hot and hard. “You’re trying to distract me,” he grumbled.
She caught his lower lip between her teeth and worried it a little. “Yes, I am. Is it working?”
“I still want you to have that garage-door opener.” His voice was rough now, his breathing just a tad ragged.
She slid her hand down between them and encircled his hard length. He groaned aloud and she asked in a teasing purr, “Do I have your attention, Logan?”
He released a hard breath. “Sarah...” A harsh word escaped him.
“No. Garage. Door. Opener,” she instructed, low and firmly, making each word a sentence. “Got that?”
“I do, yeah.” Another groan escaped him. “I definitely do.”
“Good, then.” She captured his mouth as she stroked him, holding on tight, increasing the pressure, working her hand up and down on him—until he turned the tables, wrapping an arm around her and deftly flipping her over so that she was beneath him. He levered up and reached for a condom.
A moment later, she held him within her, all the way. She stared up into his blue, blue eyes, feeling cherished. Happy. And so very aroused.
When he started to move, she forgot everything but the pleasure of the moment.
Who knew what would happen as the days went by? She didn’t know and she really didn’t care.
It didn’t work to count on a man, not for her. She’d learned that the hard way.
So she wasn’t counting on him. She was simply enjoying herself, having the best time, just being with him, being Sarah and Logan, together, for right now.
* * *
Sunday, Sarah had no appointments and Logan decided to take a day off.
He stayed for breakfast. Then he herded her and Sophia to his crew cab and drove them to Kalispell
, where the paint store he’d chosen opened at ten.
They bought paint and painting supplies. He convinced her to go ahead and buy the paint for all the rooms, even though they would only be tackling Sophia’s room and the kitchen during the painting party next week. The bill for all that was pretty steep, but she really did want to get it done.
Of course, he had to offer, “Change your mind. Let me take care of it.” She just shook her head and handed the paint store guy her credit card.
Logan wanted to take them out to lunch, but Sophia was a little fussy and Sarah kind of wanted to get back and see how Opal was doing. They bought takeout from a Chinese place they both liked and returned to Rust Creek Falls. After lunch, while Sophia was napping, he suggested they paint one of the rooms.
She cast an anxious eye at the cans of paint and supplies taking up most of the space in her dining room. “I know nothing about painting and the more I think about it, the more I kind of have a bad feeling about this.”
He reacted with an easy shrug. “Well, great. I’ll call in the professionals.”
“Don’t even go there.” She sent him her sternest frown. “We’ve been through that more than once and it’s not happening.”
“So, then, we paint.”
“Ugh. You are way too upbeat about this.”
He hooked an arm around her and gave her an encouraging squeeze. “Piece of cake, I promise you.”
“Oh, like you’re some kind of expert?”
“Well, I worked for a house painter part-time during college to earn extra cash and when I first got to Seattle, I flipped houses. To save money, I painted the interiors myself.”
She gaped up at him. “It’s kind of not fair how much you know about a bunch of random things.”
“I’m a Renaissance man, no doubt about it.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Look. You said you don’t need to do the ceilings or the trim, right?”
“Yeah. The white ceilings are fine. And the cream-colored trim still looks fresh. I think my mom said they had the place painted a couple of years back.”
“So, it’s going to be easy.” He gave her a thoroughly self-confident smirk.
“You say that with such conviction.”
“Because it’s true. The trim takes the longest and we’re not doing the trim.”
“I’m kind of worried we don’t have enough tape.”
“No problem. We won’t need to tape.”
“That’s crazy. We’ll get paint on the trim.”
“No, we won’t. You can do the rolling and I’ll use a brush to cut in—meaning frame everything out, do all the parts that are too tight for a roller...”
“But—”
“Shh. No buts. I’ve done a lot of cutting-in and I won’t get paint on your trim.”
He seemed so confident, she agreed to do it his way.
Lily showed up just after they’d finished pushing the living and dining room furniture away from the walls and covering everything with plastic drop cloths.
“I’m going to help,” Lily declared. “I’ll just run home and change.” In no time, she was back wearing worn jeans and a frayed T-shirt. Logan gave her a quick lesson in how to use a roller and she went to work.
Then Sarah’s mom showed up with a plastic container full of sugar cookies. They took a cookie break. Sophia woke up and started fussing, so Flo went and got her, fed her and changed her—and then stuck around to watch her and to keep Opal out of the paint trays.
At some point, Flo called a couple of her friends and Sarah’s dad, too. They all came over to pitch in. As it turned out, Sarah’s dad and one of Flo’s friends both had painting experience. They joined Logan to do the detail work. The rest of them used the rollers.
By seven that night, they’d finished the living room, the dining room, Sarah’s room, the hallway and the bath—everything but the two rooms slated for next Saturday’s painting party. They even cleaned up, washing rollers and brushes, removing drop cloths and putting all the furniture back where it belonged.
Sarah’s mom invited everyone to her house for slow-cooker pot roast. As a group, they walked over to Flo and Mack’s house, with Flo pushing Sophia in her stroller.
On arrival, Flo served them all pot roast, with homemade ice cream for dessert. Sarah found it weirdly disorienting, eating dinner in her mother’s dining room, everybody chattering and laughing, having a great time. It was so unlike the way things used to be when she was growing up.
That night, after Sophia was in bed, Sarah and Logan streamed a Western on her laptop. Opal joined them on the sofa, snuggling in close to Sarah. The room, now a soothing gray-green, looked amazing. Sarah spent more time staring around her in wonderment than she did watching the movie.
“I think you like the new paint,” Logan said as the credits started rolling. She leaned forward to shut down the laptop on the coffee table in front of them. When she sat back, Logan wrapped his arm around her.
“I loved everything about today,” she said with a sigh. Opal was curled up next to her in a fluffy white ball, sound asleep. Sarah scratched her head gently, simply to hear her purr. “It was so nice how everybody just showed up—and then stayed to help get the job done. It was really so sweet of them.”
“That’s the deal around here, right? Everyone pitching in, helping out.”
“Yeah. I love that about Rust Creek Falls—but it was strange at my parents’ today.”
His arm around her tightened as he pulled her a little closer. “Why strange?”
“Well, it’s just that when I was growing up, we hardly ever had people over. And the house was always deadly quiet. I felt so lonely. But now, today, everyone was talking over each other, laughing, having a great old time. My mom and dad looked so happy. Sometimes now, when I’m around them, I feel like I’ve dropped into an alternate universe. They aren’t the Flo and Mack I used to know.”
“But it’s a good thing, isn’t it, the way they’ve changed?”
She took his hand and laced their fingers together. “Yeah. It’s definitely a good thing. I could really get used to this, to the way they are now. I feel...kind of close to them. And I love how they have my back now. I believe I can count on them now. Plus, I’m starting to look forward to being here for them as they’re growing older.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I mean, I dreaded coming home partly because I felt that I never had any real relationship with my parents. It was depressing just being around them, trying to do simple things like have an actual conversation with them. They were so closed-off and set in their ways. But since I’ve been back—well, you saw how they are with each other now.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, no intimacy issues between Flo and Mack.”
“Not anymore, that’s for sure. It took some getting used to. But now, well, that’s who they are and they’re happy together. And I’m starting to be really glad about that.”
He tugged on a lock of her hair. “So it’s all working out.”
“A lot better than I expected, yeah.”
“Now, all you need is a decent TV.”
She groaned and elbowed him in the side. “Don’t even go there.”
But he just kept on. “I’m thinking at least fifty inches. Flat screens are a steal lately. I can get one for practically nothing.”
The guy was incorrigible. She leaned into him and kissed his cheek. “No. That is not happening.”
He held her gaze. “I’m here all the time and I like being here.”
“I like having you here.”
“I also like big screens.” He said it longingly.
She shouldn’t let herself weaken. He did way too much for her already. But he was looking at her so wistfully, like Opal when she wanted her Fancy Feast. “It’s a small living room,” she said and then wanted to clap her hand over her mouth the minute she added, “Fifty inches is
just too big.”
One of his eyebrows inched toward his hairline. She’d just opened the door to a negotiation and he knew it, too. She could tell by that gleeful gleam in his eye. “Forty-three inches, then. That’s thirty-seven and a half inches wide and just over twenty-one inches high.”
She tried her best stern look—not that it ever did a bit of good with him. “I see you have all the stats on the fancy TVs.”
“You know I do, baby. We can put it in that corner.” He pointed at the arch to the dining area, on the right side nearest the hallway to the bedrooms. “It won’t overwhelm the space, I promise you.”
She was weakening. Because, really, why shouldn’t he buy a nice TV? He said that money was no problem for him and she believed him. And if things didn’t last between them, she could just insist that he take it back, keep it for himself.
If things didn’t last...
She probably shouldn’t let herself think that way. They had something special together and she was so happy.
But you just never knew in life. The whole point with her and Logan was to enjoy each other, take it one day at a time together.
He caught her chin and turned her face so that she met his eyes again. “Okay. What happened?”
“Nothing. Really.”
“I was about to convince you we need to compromise and get a forty-three-inch TV and you suddenly got sad on me.”
The man was way too perceptive. As a rule, she loved that about him. Except when he picked up on stuff there was no point in getting into.
She leaned in and kissed him, quick and hard. “I mean it. It’s nothing—and okay.”
His eyebrow rose again. “Okay, what?”
“Forty-three inches and not a fraction more.”
He leaned even closer. His rough cheek touched her smooth one and his warm breath teased her ear. “Now, that’s what I wanted to hear. Let’s put Opal to bed.”
“And then what?”
“I’m thinking that first we need a long, relaxing bath...”
* * *
Her Favorite Maverick (Montana Mavericks: Six Brides For Six Brother Book 1) Page 12
