Say You'll Marry Me (Welcome to Redemption #10)

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  He cut him off with a snort of humorless laughter. “Good story. That your idea, or did Joy tell you to say that to sell it to me?”

  “Sell what to you?”

  “I’m a farmer, Mr. Baxter, not an idiot. And you can take your phony offer and shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

  Chapter 20

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  Joy breathed an exhausted sigh of relief when she and her grandma reached the tree line on the trail that led from the pond to the ranch house. Sweet Pea trotted ahead of them, the pig’s curlicue tail twitching while she led the way home as if she hadn’t been lost in the woods the entire morning.

  It had been shortly after nine when Joy took a quick bathroom break and came back out to an empty living room. Her heart had plummeted to her stomach when her grandma didn’t answer her calls. Then she’d spotted her red sweater through the picture window, and ran after her before the older woman became swallowed up by the swirling fog.

  Talking Gram back to the house proved impossible when she was frantic to find her precious princess. She refused to go back or even wait so Joy could grab her phone. A jacket would’ve been nice, too. The quick trip out to the pond had turned into hours of tromping through the woods in search of the pot-bellied pain in the ass.

  Thankfully, the sun burned off the fog so they didn’t end up lost after finding Sweet Pea nosing around an oak stand for acorns. Joy was tired, cold, and hungry, not to mention anxious to see what time it was because of the farm sale scheduled for noon. She’d texted Logan a quick “Thinking of you,” earlier, but hadn’t heard back—that she knew of.

  Now that she and Gram were home, her mind went back to worrying how he’d handle the day. While he was singing the other night, she’d seen the realization hit how much he loved the place, and knew how hard it would be on him to lose his family home. He’d refused to talk about the sale since then, other than insisting he wouldn’t attend.

  Grandpa met them in the yard, concern deepening the lines bracketing his mouth and across his forehead. “Where have you two been? I came home from town, and no one was around. I was about to call the sheriff.”

  Grandma went into his arms for a hug. “Oh, Albert, don’t be so dramatic. We just went for a little walk is all. I am tired, though, so I think I’ll go take a nap.”

  Arms hugged over her middle to ward off the lingering chill of the woods, Joy met his gaze over Gram’s shoulder and shook her head to let him know it was more than that. Which he already knew, otherwise she would’ve left a note.

  He briefly closed his eyes, then put on a smile and turned Gram in his arms to lead her inside. “I’ll fix you some tea, June-Bug. Joy, you might want to check your phone. You got a call when I first got back, and it rang again when I spotted you two out the window. Might be Logan.”

  “Thanks, Grandpa.”

  She followed them inside, rubbing her bare arms to warm up. Dismayed to see it was already one o’clock, she scooped up her cell and checked the screen on her way into the kitchen. Three missed calls, a voicemail, and a text from Tara two minutes ago.

  Robert Persky just won the bid at $470k.

  Damn it. Anyone but the Persky’s. She thumbed back through her missed calls to see if any had been Logan. Nope—all Kevin.

  Desperate to hear from Logan, she moved on to the voicemail.

  “Loved the songs, babe, but the bastard just hung up on me when I called to offer him a deal. What the hell? Call me. Time is of the essence.”

  Oh.My.God. He didn’t.

  Joy’s heart catapulted into her throat. She grabbed her coat and hurried out onto the porch to call Kevin back. Before she could even hit send, Logan’s truck careened into the drive.

  Shit.

  Feeling like she was going to hyperventilate, she hurried down the steps to meet him closer to the barn. He skidded to a stop and jumped out of the truck to storm toward her through the dust cloud billowing from his tires. If she thought he’d been angry after the bank, now he was livid.

  His brown eyes were red-rimmed, furious, and—her breath caught—a little broken.

  “Logan, I can explain.”

  “Explain how you went behind my back again?”

  “No.” She cringed. “Kind of. But it’s not what you think—”

  “Bullshit! That music was mine. It was all I had left. I told you that, and I shared it with you, and now you took that, too! I trusted you, and what do you do? Record it without my permission so you and your buddy could set up some fake deal to pay me off.”

  She blinked in surprise. “Pay you off? For what?”

  “So you could give me the money to save the farm. Too late anyway, everything is gone.”

  “Hold on…you seriously think I’d go that far just to get around your pride? That’s absurd. You made it crystal clear you don’t want my money, and I’ve accepted that.”

  “How else would your friend get my name and number if not from you? How the hell else would he get my songs, if not from you?” He punctuated each of the last two words with a poke in her direction.

  “Yes, I sent him your songs,” she admitted, her stomach churning. “Yes, I even put your name on the files because after horror stories Luke has told me from the legal side, I wanted to make sure your copyright was protected. But, I did not set up any type of a backhand deal to give Kevin money to buy your songs. I only asked his professional opinion so I could encourage and support you. He was never supposed to contact you.”

  “Encourage and support?” Logan sneered. “What am I, ten?”

  “Sometimes it seems like it,” she retorted. “And here’s a newsflash for you—I haven’t even talked to Kevin since sending him the files yesterday morning. If he’s offering a deal, it means he liked what he heard. End of story.”

  He was shaking his head before she finished. “It doesn’t work that way. Unknowns don’t just get deals like that. It’d be like winning the frickin’ lottery, and that ain’t happening twice in one day. He’s only offering because of you.”

  “Oh, my God, when are you going to get out of your own damn way? When it comes to business, Kevin only cares about the music and the bottom line. We’re not that good of friends that he’d throw money after a bad song. How much did he offer?”

  “I didn’t stay on long enough to find out.”

  Ah, the hanging up part. She huffed out a sigh. “You should call him back. Or I can call him for you?” She held up her phone, and he snatched it out of her hand.

  “Why are you so hell bent on getting this deal for me?”

  “I’m not getting the deal. I didn’t write the song. It’s all you, Logan.”

  Denial still filled his expression. “Everyone is still going to know you had to help me.”

  “And so what if they do? Accepting help isn’t a bad thing. Especially if it’s from someone who…” Loves you.

  The words sat on the tip of her tongue, but a thick lump of fear held them inside. He didn’t want her help, why the hell would he want her love? Her heart broke a little at that truth.

  “Who what? Wants to make me a ‘better man’?”

  “Is that such a bad thing?”

  “Yes, because you can’t accept me for me. You can deny it all you want, but all along I haven’t stacked up to your standards.”

  That pissed her off. Never once had she said he wasn’t good enough. “I’m beginning to think that the only person whose standards you don’t stack up to are your own.”

  He reared back in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

  “You looked into selling your songs after I first suggested it, didn’t you?”

  His clenched jaw confirmed her suspicion.

  “Did you send any in?”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” he ground out.

  “But you didn’t even try.”

  “You don’t just write a song and send an email and sell it. You have to live down there. Learn the craft from the pros. Network and make connections.”

  “I’m
a connection, Logan. One anyone other than you wouldn’t hesitate to use because, as you’ve said yourself, that’s how it’s done. And you’ve got an offer on the table that you won’t even listen to because you’re afraid.”

  He bristled in disbelief. “Afraid of what?”

  “Of not being good enough. You’re so damn worried about what other people think, people like the Perskys and the Swansons and a record label executive you’ve never met, people who don’t even matter, that you can’t see what you have right in front of you.”

  “I lost everything today, Joy. What the hell do I have in front of me?”

  Maybe if she slapped him across the face, he’d open his damn eyes and finally see her.

  She stared at him, waiting for him to realize the truth as emotions warred in the tight confines of her chest. Fear that what had happened could never be fixed. Anger that he wasn’t even willing to listen. Sorrow for the loss he was feeling. Frustration that he couldn’t believe in himself enough to seize an opportunity that most people would be grateful for.

  “See?” he sneered. “Even you got nothing.”

  “You had me.” Her voice cracked, and she had to clear her throat to continue as tears threatened. “But no matter how many times I tell you you’re better than good enough, until you believe it in here…” She laid a hand over his heart while keeping her gaze focused below his chin. “I’m done pretending this could ever work.”

  She pulled her hand back and tugged the diamond and emerald ring off her left hand. He didn’t move a muscle, and she grabbed his hand to tuck the ring into his palm and curl his fingers around it. She stepped back and still couldn’t meet his gaze. One look into his eyes and she’d be lost.

  “Good luck, Logan. I hope you figure things out.”

  Chapter 21

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  Force of habit took Logan across the yard Saturday morning, guitar in hand. Halfway to the barn, he lifted his gaze to the hayloft doors and slowed to a halt as memories assailed him. Helping his dad while growing up. Wrestling with his brother. More recently, writing early mornings on his weekends off.

  And most vivid of all, the time spent up there with Joy.

  His chest constricted as he pivoted, his gaze travelling from the barn, over the empty fields, to the house. Time fell away, and he saw his mom on the porch as he and Brent raced each other to see who could reach her first.

  One blink replaced that picture with Joy, sitting in his father’s rocking chair as he sang the song for her grandmother. And the other songs. His songs that she shared without his permission.

  Only this morning, standing there with nothing left, he realized it didn’t matter. None of it did beyond the fact that she’d given the ring back and walked away.

  He hadn’t given the ring to her in the beginning with any illusions that their relationship could ever be real.

  But then it had become so very real.

  More real than he’d realized until she said goodbye. That was when he’d lost everything.

  “What the hell do I have in front of me?”

  “You had me.”

  He was an idiot. A stupid idiot whose pride was going to do nothing but keep him cold at night. She was right. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought. He’d once convinced himself it didn’t feel right, but that was bullshit, too. Being with her felt right. Being part of her family felt right, too. If working for her grandpa got him all of that, let everyone else think whatever the hell they wanted.

  Maybe he hadn’t been able to figure out a way to keep the farm, but he could do something to make sure the best part of his future—the only part worth doing anything in his power to keep—wasn’t lost to him forever.

  Two hours later, Logan stared at his phone sitting on the oak kitchen table. The one he’d be moving in a few days to the one bedroom unit at Wayside Apartments he’d rented with a one year lease.

  See that? He wasn’t afraid, and with Grant Walker his new landlord, he sure as hell was past caring what people thought.

  Liar. You’re scared spitless right now, otherwise you’d have dialed already.

  Damn, he hated when that voice in his head was right. Hated that it made Joy right. Not because he couldn’t admit being wrong, but because it meant he was the frickin’ loser he’d always figured everyone else thought he was.

  Gotta get past that, or you’ll never get her back.

  Without giving himself another second to think, he connected the call and lifted his phone. He stood and paced the old cracked linoleum as it rang, his pulse thrumming way too fast by the time the call was answered on the fourth ring.

  “Copper Hill Records, Kevin Baxter’s office.”

  The female voice threw him, though it shouldn’t have after Joy revealed her friend was an executive at the record label. Of course he’d have a secretary. Maybe it was more the fact she was answering on a Saturday. And sounded young.

  “Ah, this is Logan Walsh.”

  “Yes?”

  She didn’t know his name. Baxter wasn’t waiting for his call.

  Because he was a nobody.

  Stop. He called you first. He said he was impressed by the songs.

  And Joy loved them.

  Logan squared his shoulders and injected a note of confidence into his voice. “I’m returning Mr. Baxter’s call.” A white lie, but no one could say he didn’t try.

  “He’s in a meeting right now, Mr. Walsh, but I’ll be happy to take a—”

  “Give me that, squirt.” Baxter’s muffled voice overrode a girlish giggle, then boomed strong. “Is this the sonofabitch who hung up on me yesterday?”

  The blunt question made him wince. “It is. And I apologize for that, Mr. Baxter. Yesterday was…a bad day.”

  “Kevin, please. And I apologize for my daughter playing secretary.”

  Explained the Saturday and young voice. “No problem.”

  “So, yesterday sucked,” Baxter said. “How’s today so far?”

  Logan relaxed enough to smile. “Better. I hope.”

  “You got your head out of your ass and called me. Of course it’s better. You ready to sell me some songs?”

  “I’m ready to listen to your offer.”

  Kevin chuckled. “Smart man. Don’t say yes until you know what’s on the table. Tell me, what do you think of Jack Tucker releasing your song as his first single off his new record next month?”

  Holy shit.

  Logan dropped back into the kitchen chair in shock.

  When he hung up with Kevin a half-hour later, his mind still reeled from the news that country music’s hottest star, the current entertainer of the frickin’ year, wanted his song. The contract was in the mail, Baxter told him. All he had to do was look it over, sign it, and overnight it back. He’d used the words advance, and royalties, and option to see more work.

  It was amazing and unbelievable. The tightness in his chest eased a bit, though not enough to let him breathe easily. The view of his future was improving, but it wouldn’t be worth a damn if he didn’t have the most important piece.

  Unfortunately, that was going to have to wait a bit.

  The day dragged by until he walked into Rowdy’s a few minutes before nine p.m. and immediately homed in on Joy’s red hair. She sat at a table near the front of the band stage with Wes, Charlie and Dana, and Jenny and Grant. His already racing pulse revved even higher, forcing him to take a deep, fortifying breath.

  This is it.

  His palms began to sweat. Tara joined the rest of the group with a full pitcher of beer while he took an extra moment to shore up his courage. Joy laughed at something one of them said, but even from where he stood, he could see her smile fade quicker than the rest of them.

  Movement up behind the drum set drew his attention. A band member getting ready, which meant the karaoke must be over. Now was the time, then. Before the band began to play.

  Someone moved past, bumping his shoulder as he shifted his gaze back to Joy.

  A realiz
ation hit with enough force to steal his breath again. He could go over there and tell her everything he needed to say…

  I’m sorry.

  You were right about everything.

  I do have too much pride, but I’m working on it.

  I don’t want to lose you.

  I love you.

  He could go over there and say all those things to her, in front of their friends to show her he could get past worrying what anyone thought because she was the only one who mattered.

  Or—his heart surged up into his throat—he could go one step further.

  Chapter 22

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  Joy’s smile had begun to hurt over an hour ago, and with the three happy couples at the table, summoning a carefree response was becoming nearly impossible. She’d thought she could keep pretending and get through the night, but she feared one more stretch of her lips would shatter her brittle façade.

  Dana had noticed the diamonds and emeralds missing from her ring finger right away, and judging by Tara’s frequent glances, she wasn’t fooled by the explanation that Joy had forgotten to put it back on after putting on some hand lotion.

  She glanced toward the stage when the drummer moved off toward the back. Hopefully, the music would start soon so she could plead a headache and leave after a couple songs. She’d been tempted to try the excuse earlier, but didn’t want to endure the inevitable inquisition. This way, she could blame it on the music.

  Tara leaned over to be heard above the noisy bar. “When you gonna spill and tell me what happened?”

  Joy stiffened at the question, her stomach bottoming out because her friend’s tone made it clear exactly who she was asking about. The answer tumbled and tripped over itself in her mind.

  I screwed everything up. I was scared he’d realize with the farm gone he had no reason to stay in Redemption. It was easier to push him away than risk him breaking my heart when he leaves. But now I realize I broke it myself when I gave up the best thing that ever happened to me.