“It’s just twisted.”
“You should probably put your foot up and ice it right away.”
“I’m a nurse. I know what I need to do,” she snipped.
Yeah, he knew that. Which was another reason for his lack of respect. All that time and money into her medical training, and she wasted it lounging around on the ranch. Pissed him off as he worked his ass off each day here and at his own place.
Setting his jaw once more, he slid one arm around her waist and helped her hobble to the steps she’d made with the bales. “Sit on the edge here, and I’ll lift you down.”
Without waiting for her agreement, he braced a hand on the hay and leapt the three levels to the loft floor. When he turned around, she was already scooting down the stairs on her butt, her injured foot held up a few inches to keep from bumping it.
Great. Saved him from touching her any more than he had to.
Logan pulled her to her feet from the last bale. “You want to use the ladder, or scoot down the elevator?”
She steadied herself with a firm grip on his forearm while taking stock of her options. She’d removed her gloves, and the heat of her touch seared into his skin. “The elevator would probably be easiest.”
He nodded. “I’ll go first.”
A few minutes later, he waited at the bottom as Joy one-legged crab-walked her way down the pitched chute. He’d unplugged the machine earlier before climbing up, but still worried about her losing her balance on the way down.
She navigated the distance without incident, and this time, there was no choice but for her to let him lift her down to the ground. His hands spanned her slim waist while she braced hers on his shoulders. As he set her on her feet, there was a moment when their eyes met, and his heart slammed against his ribs.
He’d never quite been this close to her before. Late morning sunlight deepened the green of her hazel eyes until the mossy color dominated the brown tones. The mix of colors was breathtaking, especially framed by her darkened lashes.
His fingers flexed on her waist as he fought the primal urge to pull her closer and stake a claim.
What the hell was wrong with him today?
Her gaze dropped to his mouth, making his breath hitch. She quickly swung her head toward the house while easing away from him, and Logan couldn’t help but notice how the sun brightened golden highlights in her red hair.
She gripped the edge of the elevator for balance. “Thanks. I should be good from here.”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “Really?”
“Really. I’m good. See?” She shifted to put weight on her ankle.
He kept his gaze trained on her face. Her features tightened, but she didn’t say a word to contradict her declaration that she was fine.
Another sliver of grudging respect snuck in and slipped into place. She could’ve easily played the spoiled, helpless female—hell, it’s exactly what he would’ve expected from everything else he’d seen from her prior to this morning.
Then again, as she moved even farther away, he wondered if maybe she didn’t like being near him when he was all sweaty and smelly. The thought of her looking down her nose at him for a morning of hard work annoyed the hell out of him, and made him call her bluff.
He rocked back on his heels and folded his arms across his chest while gesturing toward the house with his chin. “Good. Great. You should head on in for that ice, then.”
Joy gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I will. I’m just a little tired from stacking the hay, so I’m going to give it a few minutes.” She waved her free hand toward the tractor. “But don’t let me keep you. I know you don’t have all day.”
The pointed sarcasm made him huff out a breath. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, this is ridiculous.”
He stepped forward, ignoring the widening of her eyes as he closed the distance between them. He slipped one arm around her back and the other behind her legs to scoop her up against his chest.
“What—put me down!”
“Nope.”
As he strode toward her grandparents’ house, her fingers fisted in his damp shirt against his back. Her indignant breath warmed the skin under his jaw and spiked his pulse.
“Logan—”
“Shut up already,” he muttered. “We’re halfway there, so just deal with it. Your delicate sensibilities will survive just fine.”
“My what?”
“A man sweats when he works,” he snapped. “If not, he’s not working hard enough. I know it’s a hard concept for you to grasp, but that’s the way the real world works.”
“What the heck are you talking about?”
They’d reached the porch, and before he could reply, the screen door opened. Her grandpa—his boss—stepped out with a frown pinching his white eyebrows together. “What’s going on?”
Joy’s grandmother appeared in the doorway behind him, a wide smile on her face. “It’s young love, Albert. Don’t you remember when you used to sweep me off my feet?”
Logan nearly tripped on the step. Young love?
“I twisted my ankle in the hayloft, Grandma,” Joy corrected as he managed to get her up to a chair without dropping her.
“Oh, dear.” June pushed past Al and hurried to her granddaughter’s side. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Nothing a little ice won’t help.”
Logan had taken a step back, but suddenly the older woman turned to him with another smile.
“And a good, strong man.” She reached out to pat him on the forearm. “No wonder she said yes when you asked her to marry you.”
What?
Shock sent his gaze straight to Joy’s. Identical astonishment on her face gave way to dismay, and he wondered what the hell was going on. Al took a step toward his wife, but June was still talking as Logan swung his gaze back.
“We’ve liked you from the moment she brought you home, Luke.”
“Uh, it’s Logan.”
June turned her full attention on him, and Joy quickly sat forward. “Grandma—”
“I know who you are, young man.”
Did she?
Confusion clouded her light blue eyes. He liked June. She’d always been nice to him, but something wasn’t quite right here. Even though he hadn’t seen her around much the past month or so, she should still recognize him.
“Logan Walsh, from down the road,” he repeated.
Al stepped up to slip an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Logan works for us, June Bug.”
The older woman frowned as her gaze shifted from Logan, to her husband, to her granddaughter. “But…where’s Luke?”
“Still in Nashville, Gram. We’re not together anymore.”
The crease on her forehead deepened. “You mean the wedding is off?”
Logan noticed Joy’s pained gaze flick to him for a brief moment, then return to her grandmother, full of compassion.
“The wedding is off,” she confirmed.
He’d heard through the grapevine about her engagement—or termination thereof. If the rumors were true, the guy had cheated on her.
Sadness filled June’s expression. “I was really looking forward to seeing you get married.”
“I know.” Joy stood and hobbled the two steps to her grandmother. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s just…your father and mother eloped.”
“And you never got to help plan the wedding,” Joy said.
“I really wanted to.”
“I know, Gram.”
Logan still wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but whatever it was, the emotion in June’s whisper-soft voice tore at both Joy and her grandpa.
The older woman’s gaze locked on Logan once more, her embarrassment swimming in tears. “You look like Joy’s Luke, that’s why I was confused. I’m sorry.”
He quickly held up a hand and offered a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it, June. No apologies necessary.”
“Grandma, can you help me into the house to get some ice on m
y ankle?”
Logan recognized the distraction. So did June, judging by the distress on her face. But she went, and after the women disappeared into the house, he turned to his boss for an explanation. Everyone knew June Dolinski was a little…eccentric, but what had just happened was definitely more than that. Because, damn, the idea of him and Joy being engaged was as crazy as aliens mining on the back side of the moon.
Resignation wreathed Al’s features, and after one last glance at the house, he gestured Logan toward the barn. “Sorry about that, son.”
“Is everything okay?”
The older man shook his head as they walked, his shoulders bowed in defeat. “June was diagnosed with early onset dementia back in March.”
Logan frowned at the news. “Sorry to hear that. I’ve heard it’s not easy.”
“Right now, she gets confused sometimes, and some days are worse than others. We’ve only told a very few people, close friends, and a couple of Joy’s girlfriends. June doesn’t want the whole town to know, and most of the time if something happens when we’re out, we’ve been able to pass it off as June being…well, June. On the bad days, Joy or I stay home with her.”
Understanding dawned, along with a whole heap of silent humility. Joy hadn’t been hanging around the house doing nothing all summer; she was caring for her grandmother. Sure made him see things—her especially—in a different light.
“I won’t say anything,” he assured Al.
“I appreciate that. Joy taught me with the little things it’s better to play along with whatever she believes to keep her from getting upset, but in your case…” The older man gave him a sheepish look.
“Yeah, um, thanks. That was a little awkward.”
They spoke for a few more minutes near the elevator, and then Logan headed for his truck to switch out the empty hay wagon for the full one from the back field. This next unload would go a lot slower without the surprisingly good help he’d had from Joy this morning.
When he drove past the house a minute later, he noticed she and her grandmother had returned to the porch. June smiled and waved, not looking the least bit upset. Did she now know it was him, or think he was Joy’s no-good cheating ex again? Logan fought a frown at being confused for the guy, though he did lift his hand in response while his attention shifted to Joy.
She had her foot propped up on a chair in front of her, a blue ice pack resting across her ankle. Her head turned to track his progress, but her expression remained solemn. No hand wave, no acknowledgement. As he made his way out to the field, he wondered if she’d moved home only for her grandmother, or was she hiding out after her failed engagement?
Then he reminded himself he didn’t care one way or the other.
Chapter 3
‡
“That Luke sure is a handsome boy.”
“Yes, he is.” From Joy’s vantage point on the porch, her gaze tracked Logan’s progress as he led the horses from the barn to turn them out on pasture for the day. Two days had passed since she’d twisted her ankle. Two days of recalling the feel of his strong arms carrying her to the house every time she saw him. Didn’t help that she watched for him more than ever.
Her grandma absently patted Sweet Pea’s head when the pot-bellied pig nosed her hand for attention. “And such a gentleman. You picked good, dear.”
Not so much, Gram.
Joy sipped her lemonade as she went on and on about Logan, who in her mind was actually Luke. Her future grandson-in-law. Each time she’d tried to correct her over the past couple days, Gram had gotten upset, which only seemed to deepen the effects of the dementia. Joy had stopped doing anything other than nod, and occasionally agree with her out loud—when warranted.
Like when she mentioned how good looking he was. Logan, not Luke—because Joy knew exactly which man stood in her line of sight. Grandma had said he looked like Luke, but saying they looked alike was like comparing suave and debonair to rugged and rough around the edges.
The only thing the two had in common was dark hair, and even then, Luke’s was near black; Logan’s was dark brown, kissed by the sun, with a hint of untamed curl at the ends. Luke’s eyes had been a smoky blue, not Logan’s burnt caramel brown. He hadn’t been anywhere near as muscled as Logan, either, and always clean shaven, well-groomed, and dressed in the most up-to-date fashions.
There was a time she’d been proud—and even a little smug—to be seen on his arm when they were out at the local hot spots in Nashville. These days, the thought of him made her want to punch something. No matter how good he looked on the outside, she knew the lying, cheating thief he turned out to be, and her image of him was permanently tarnished. What once seemed charming and charismatic was revealed in hind-sight as sneaky and slimy.
Not only was he a cliché when it came to cheating, but a cliché to his profession as well. She had no doubt her lawyer ex-fiancé would’ve turned his nose up at Logan had the two ever met. He did the same to every other cowboy-like guy they’d come across in the Music City.
But Joy realized that while Logan might dress in old, thread-bare work clothes, she respected that he knew how to put in an honest day’s work. And so what if he didn’t shave every day. Or if his hair didn’t stay neatly combed. Truth be told—to herself only—the more disheveled he became, the sexier he looked in those low-riding jeans and time-worn, chest-hugging, cotton T-shirts.
Now, the gentleman part her grandma had just mentioned? That needed work—lots of it.
Sure, it had been sweet that he’d carried her to the house when she injured her ankle. The gesture had sent a heady little zing zipping through her veins when he scooped her up against his broad chest as effortlessly as the hay bales. Then he’d ruined it when he told her to shut up and acted like helping her was some big inconvenience in his busy day.
She still hadn’t figured out what the heck he was talking about when he’d gone on about men sweating when they worked, but somehow there’d been an insult for her at the end. Something about her not grasping the concept of work. What the hell did he know about her?
They hadn’t spoken in the past two days, even though she realized she’d never thanked him for helping her into the house. He’d been busy with the hay and other chores, and she’d stuck close to the house with the excuse of resting her ankle. It wasn’t that bad, but he didn’t know that.
Facing him after the whole mix-up on the porch was not something she looked forward to, either. Talk about awkward. And she hated that her broken engagement had come up, because even though Gram hadn’t revealed details, the thought of Logan knowing the reason was just plain embarrassing. Thankfully, no one knew about the stolen money. She hadn’t pressed charges against Luke because the affair with his secretary was humiliating enough.
A shadow blocked out the sun, interrupting her musings as she realized Grandma had stood.
“I’m going for a walk,” she declared.
Sweet Pea grunted agreement and lumbered to her feet.
Joy rose as well, the wrap on her ankle preventing her from feeling more than a twinge of discomfort. “Let’s go. Where to?”
“You don’t need to come with me. I don’t need a babysitter. You and your grandfather hover too much. It’s smothering.”
She gave her grandmother a gentle smile. “Grandma, I need to exercise my ankle, or it’ll get too stiff and take longer to heal. Either I walk with you, or we each go alone. I missed you while I was in Nashville, so I’d rather have company.”
The guilt trip half-worked. “Fine,” Gram groused. “Suit yourself.”
Joy sighed past the lump in her throat and followed her down the porch steps. It was best to ride things out silently when she got grumpy, because reasoning with her right now would be like trying to reason with a three year old.
And don’t take it personally, she reminded herself, even though her chest ached.
Keeping silent was a good plan, until Joy realized their destination was the barn. Her pulse ticked faster as Logan
exited with her black mare, Grace, and her grandma gave him a friendly wave. She wasn’t at all self-conscious about the episode the other day, which meant the next few minutes wouldn’t go well with the way she’d been talking all morning about Logan as Luke.
“Grandma, how about we go to the pond?” Joy reached to take her grandmother’s arm, but she shook her off.
“I don’t want to go to the pond.”
“Come on, Sweet Pea loves it there.”
As if to back her up, the pig gave a couple grunts and trotted ahead in the direction of the trail that led through the woods, to the back field.
Good girl, Sweet Pea.
Even though they had the pool in the back, Grandpa still kept the pond aerated and filtered so it was good for swimming well into the fall. Cool and clean. They’d also built a small dock with a bench at the end, overlooking the water, the field, and the rolling countryside beyond.
Grandma stubbornly kept on her target course as if on a mission. As she approached the pasture entrance, she said to Logan, “I would like to speak with you.”
He latched the gate after unhooking the lead line from Grace’s halter, then turned to face them, his expression guarded after the confrontational tone of grandma’s voice.
“Good morning, June.” His gaze flicked to Joy, but he didn’t acknowledge her.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Gram admonished, glancing between the two of them.
“Excuse me?”
“Is that any way to greet your fiancée?”
“Grandma—”
Compassion replaced the surprise in his expression. “I’m Logan, not Luke.”
“Don’t try to confuse me, or act like I don’t know what I’m talking about. You think I can’t see what’s going on here?” She was working herself up into a full blown rant. “Whatever it is that’s got you two upset with each other, you need to work it out. I can’t stand to see this distance between you two.”
Joy gave Logan an apologetic grimace as she stepped forward to put an arm around her grandma’s shoulders. “Gram, Logan is not Luke. Luke is in Nashville, and we are no longer engaged.”
She ignored her, stepping forward to point a finger at Logan. “Marriage is work, young man, just like this ranch is. And your farm. You get out of it what you put into it, and avoiding each other is not the answer. How do you expect to make your marriage work if you can’t find time to spend with her now? Can’t you see how lonely she is putzing around the house all day?”
Say You'll Marry Me (Welcome to Redemption #10) Page 2
