FEELING IT_A Best Friend's Brother Romance

by Scarlet Wilder

  I spun around to look at Logan who was already making his way over to his bike. He reached into a large leather saddlebag hanging on the side of the bike and brought out a shiny black helmet. “Ma’am?” he said, extending the helmet to me with an exaggerated bow.

  It was obvious that I didn’t seem to have any say in the matter, so I walked towards him and took it from his outstretched hand. “You know, it might be just as easy to take my car,” I said. “I can’t say I’ve ever been on the back of a bike before.”

  He leaned against the motorcycle and folded his arms. “And I think we established yesterday that you’re not chicken,” he said. “Or had you forgotten?”

  Forgotten?

  I knew that what happened between us was a memory that was now etched into my mind and would not be easily erased. Defiantly, I pulled the helmet over my head and fumbled with the straps until Logan gently took them from me and clipped them into place.

  He pulled on his own helmet, got onto the bike and invited me to join him with a nod of his head. I swung my leg over the bike and settled on the seat behind him. He reached back, took hold of my hands and looped my arms around his waist, holding them there for a few seconds.

  “Hang on tight,” he said.

  Oh, I will, I was tempted to reply.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  LOGAN

  †

  I’D BE LYING IF I said that Caitlyn was the first woman I’d ever had on the back of my motorcycle, but it’s not a lie to say that, somehow, it seemed so much different. She pressed her breasts against my back and rested her chin on my shoulder, like they all do, but she seemed to belong there as though we’d been riding together for years.

  I didn’t go straight to the shed, but Caitlyn didn’t seem to mind. She clung to me as we moved around the bends and, even though she was behind me, I could smell the soft scent of her perfume.

  I turned the bike onto Botsford Road and kept going until we came to a narrow entranceway to the right. I pulled the bike off the road. “It’s going to get a little bumpy!” I shouted over the engine so Caitlyn could hear me. “Hold on!” And, she gripped me tighter still.

  At the top of the lane stood a farmhouse, and on the veranda sat two people I’d come to know very well over time. In the past two years, particularly, they’d become very important to me. I slowed down and brought the bike to a halt, tipping it to the side. Caitlyn jumped off first and I followed suit.

  The old man stood up and stretched his back out. His large, friendly smile was clear even under his bushy white mustache. “Well, look who it is!” he said. “What’re you doing up here, young man?”

  “Hey, Charlie,” I said, walking up the steps and shaking his hand. “I thought I’d come and look at that guttering, remember? I hope you don’t mind me coming up on a Sunday.”

  “Of course not,” said Charlie Edwards. “Is this your young lady?”

  I turned to Caitlyn, whose cheeks had gone a familiar shade of pink. “No,” I said. “This is Bill Reid’s daughter, Caitlyn. Do you remember her?”

  “Of course!” said Charlie. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you around these parts. I remember when you were born. Your mother used to work at the dentist’s office, right?”

  “That’s right,” said Caitlyn. “It’s strange that you’d remember that far back.”

  “There’s one thing you have to know about Charlie Edward, and that’s that he doesn’t forget a single darn thing,” a woman’s voice said. “Has a memory like an elephant, this one.” Behind Charlie was his wife, Eleanor. She stood up, her legs shaking slightly as she did; then she reached up to give me a kiss on my cheek and turned to plant one on Caitlyn’s cheek as well. They invited us to join them for coffee and ‘a sweet treat’.

  Although I’d had the very same only half hour earlier, I wasn’t about to refuse a second round. Caitlyn offered to help Eleanor and the two disappeared inside the house. Charlie took me down the steps and round to the side of the farmhouse, pointing up towards the guttering.

  “The storm the other night caused a hell of a flood,” he said. “The water was leaking through the roof.”

  “I think I might know the problem,” I said, looking up and squinting against the late afternoon sun, one hand over my eyes. “Betty Crisp had the same issue this week. It’s the mulch. Last fall, we had the winds, remember. The night we all thought the world was going to end?”

  “Oh, of course,” said Charlie. “We had the grandkids with us then. They were scared out of their minds. Terrified!”

  “Well, what you get is a lot of leaves gathering in the gutters and so they rot. Then, when the rain comes, it causes a big mess but it’s an easy fix. Won’t take me long to get this sorted. Let me get the ladder.”

  “You don’t need to fix this today, Son,” Charlie said. “It’s Sunday!”

  But I knew we were in for another patch of rain later in the week, and I would feel better knowing that I could stop any excess water from running into their house. As they grew older, it was harder and harder for Charlie to keep on top of things at the house and, since he suffered a mild stroke, I knew that he was not up to the task. While I knew I couldn’t do much about his failing health, at least I could help out where I could around the house.

  It took me the better part of an hour to clear out the guttering, scooping up handfuls of rotting leaves and throwing them into black waste bags. Every now and then, I’d look over to the veranda where Caitlyn was sitting with the old couple. Occasionally I’d watch her sweep her hair to the side or lick her lips just as she was about to take a sip of her coffee.

  It took me straight back to yesterday, and I was reminded of how I’d held her, how amazing her skin felt to the touch and how she tasted when I kissed her. My body had reacted, showing my desire for her, and yet, she’d turned me down.

  There was just something so special about Caitlyn, making me want to spend more time with her. She was no longer the young girl I knew. In some ways, it was as though she’d never lived here at all. She was very different compared to the women in town. But, then, in other ways, it was so obvious that Vergennes ran through her veins.

  Finally, I was done. I came down from the ladder and set it down on its side next to Charlie’s shed. Then I washed my hands and joined them for a second round of coffee and pie. Eleanor’s pecan pie with whipped cream was a welcome snack after the work, but it seemed that the old couple didn’t think it was thanks enough. Charlie reached into his back pocket and brought out a fifty-dollar bill, trying to get me to take it. There was no way I’d accept the cash, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

  “Do you know how much those cowboys at the carpentry firm downtown would charge for that job?” he cried. “I can’t have you working for nothing, young man.”

  “He’s always like this, Charlie,” said Eleanor, shaking her head as she refilled our coffees. She looked at Caitlyn. “Did you know that when Charlie had his stroke, Logan rebuilt our stairs and fitted the lift? It meant that I didn’t have to sleep without my Charlie even when he couldn’t manage climbing up and down the stairs for six months. And even then, he wouldn’t take a penny.”

  I tried to change the subject. I never liked to talk about these things in front of anyone, and Caitlyn didn’t need to know anything about arrangements I had with any of my neighbors. After all, she didn’t know about all the times Eleanor had brought casseroles and cakes to my apartment after Willa’s death, making sure I ate when I wanted the whole world to just disappear and when I was sure I’d never eat again. There were some things in life that couldn’t be paid back in cash.

  Once the coffee was drunk and the pie eaten, we had to get going. “Your dad’s going to think I’ve kidnapped you,” I said, and we said goodbye to the Edwards’ and climbed back on the bike, although, this time, Caitlyn fixed the strap underneath her chin by herself. We drove back to the workshop as she held on as tightly as she had earlier and collected the things Bill needed from the car before I too
k her home. On the final run, I drove a little slower, savoring the feeling of her hands around my waist.

  Steadying the bike outside her house, I stayed on it while she jumped off and handed the helmet back to me. Her hair was ruffled, and she smoothed it by running her fingers through the dark strands.

  “Well, thanks for the ride,” she said, and she smiled at me.

  “Anytime. You know you can ride with me whenever you want,” I said to her, and her smile got a little bigger. I reached out and took hold of a strand of her hair, twisting it between my fingers. “I’d kiss you again, but I’m pretty sure you’ll catch fright and run away again.”

  She glowered. “You think I left because I was scared?” she asked. She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You know nothing, Logan Steele?”

  And then she turned, ran up the stairs and disappeared into the house.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CAITLYN

  †

  DAD TOOK THE PAPERS I’d taken from the car and looked at me. “Thanks,” he said. He frowned slightly and his eyes showed a gentle concern. “You were gone a long time. Everything okay?”

  “Sure,” I said. “We went to see Charlie Edward and his wife.”

  “Ah, all right,” Dad nodded. “I was wondering if you were spending some time alone with Logan.”

  I was surprised that he’d say something like that but was too tired to give it further thought. It had been a long week.

  “No, Dad. Logan had a job he needed to do for them, so I sat with Eleanor and Charlie for a little while waiting for him to finish. Then we left, got the papers and came right back.”

  As I went upstairs to my room, I felt frustrated by the way I’d left Logan again. It was clear that he thought me a coward. He’d made that clear. God, was it that obvious that I practically ran away from him yesterday? But there was more to it.

  I began to wonder who the real Logan Steele was. After all, I’d come home to Cheyenne telling me how out of control her brother was. That he was one drink away from being an alcoholic, sleeping around with one woman after the other and that he was a selfish asshole. However, listening to what Eleanor had told me, I couldn’t help but wonder whether I’d been given the wrong information. After all, he’d help save my dad, too, and when we were alone together at the creek, although he was passionate and shown me he wanted something to happen between us, I never once felt forced.

  God, the man was driving me crazy. He was an enigma, a mystery, but I wanted to solve it somehow. Maybe it would help if I went to talk to Cheyenne.

  †

  So, after spending the whole of Monday helping out at the house catching up on Dad’s laundry, doing some ironing and giving the house a much-needed clean, I went for lunch at the diner the following day.

  Tuesdays were always a busy time at East Griddlin’ but the breakfast rush had calmed down and I was able to sit and talk with her for a few minutes. I didn’t want to be the one to bring up Logan, so, in the end, we only talked about how she felt after her heavy night of drinking a few days ago. “Did Parker see me?” she asked, a flush of shame reddening her cheeks.

  “No, I don’t think so,” I assured her. “We left pretty quickly. He was in the kitchen the whole time.”

  She groaned and rested her elbows on the bar, leaning her forehead into her hands. “I’m such an ass. I really shouldn’t have drunk so much without eating first. I don’t know what came over me. I was out for the most of the weekend and only started feeling better by yesterday afternoon, so sorry for not stopping by.”

  “Forget it,” I said. “We still have plenty of time to catch-up. Besides, it was my first time back in town after two years seeing you again. We were celebrating.”

  “Well then, how about we do something tonight?” she asked me. “Come by the house and we’ll have a sleepover like old times. We can watch a movie and order pizza or something. Have a proper conversation without me being a drunken wreck.”

  “That sounds amazing.” I meant it, too. It would be so good to go over to the house and do the things we used to do when we were kids, talking and chilling out, without having to worry about life and its dramatic twists and turns.

  Once outside the diner, I strolled over to where my car was parked a little way further up the road. On the way, I passed the hardware store. Like the diner, Steele’s Hardware Supplies had been a permanent fixture in the town for as long as I could remember. It was how Ethan Steele made his fortune. Despite that, though, he insisted his kids kept their feet on the ground. I hadn’t even known until yesterday, though, that his son was so incredibly talented.

  As I walked along the sidewalk and looked over to the other side of the street, I saw the door of a truck open and out hopped Logan Steele. I stopped.

  I watched as he pulled down the back trap of the trailer and began stacking timber onto it as an employee of the store held it out to him. I should have kept on walking but I was captivated by the way Logan took each long piece of timber like it weighed nothing and tossed it into the back of the truck. He looked so sexy in the tight blue jeans he was wearing and his ass made it look even better; the image of his naked butt I saw a few days earlier came to mind and I smiled.

  He was hot and sweaty, piling all of the wood into the truck while lifting each piece with ease. His hair flopped over his eyes and he absent-mindedly brushed it away and, as he did, he looked up and saw me. He grinned, and I wanted to kick myself for standing there like a slack-jawed idiot, watching him. He raised his hand in a wave and then rested it on his hips.

  “Enjoying the show?” he shouted. I turned away hurriedly and walked to my car, kicking myself for being caught like a gawking schoolgirl.

  †

  That evening, I was relieved that Logan had his own apartment and wouldn’t be joining Cheyenne and me at the house. It felt so good to be back there, sitting in the den, an open pizza box between my best friend and me as we watched a comedy and giggled like old times. We popped a bag of microwave popcorn and spent over an hour trying to throw it into each other’s mouths, as though we were twelve years old instead of twenty-two.

  There was someone missing, of course, and there were several times throughout the evening when I thought of her.

  By midnight, Cheyenne was falling asleep on the couch and I had to practically drag her upstairs. The shifts at the diner were wearing her out, and she had an early start the following morning, too. I helped her onto her bed and she immediately stretched out into her usual starfish position, legs and arms outstretched, taking up the entire mattress. I tried to roll her onto her side, but she was already snoring and, by the time I’d fallen off the bed twice, I gave up and decided to sleep in another room.

  It felt wrong to sleep in her parents’ bed, with it being made up so perfectly, so instead, I dared to open the door to a room I hadn’t been inside of in a very long time.

  Logan’s room was smaller than Cheyenne’s, with blue walls and wooden floors. There was a gym in the corner. The single bed lay along the length of one wall and there were old posters still tacked to the paint, one or two corners having come away.

  I drifted around the room, silently looking at all his sporting trophies and certificates. I smiled at a photograph of him with his sisters taken while visiting Disney World, as Logan, in shorts and a t-shirt, looked less than impressed at having to wear a pair of Mickey Mouse ears when he was already sporting a little facial hair.

  There were hand painted models of planes and boats scattered around the room; a sign of the talented carpenter he was to become. I couldn’t resist opening his closet and looking at the clothes hanging there, running my fingers along the length of it only to stop and bring one of his shirts up to my face, inhaling the scent of him still lingering either on the cotton itself, or simply in my imagination.

  I lay on his bed, the springs creaking a little, and rested my head on the pillow. I imagined what it would be like to be lying next to him and whether he’d lift his arm so that I could
rest my head on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. I closed my eyes and pushed my hand under the pillow and then felt something.

  In the light of the moonlight flowing through the window above the bed, I found that it was an old t-shirt, faded black, with a print of Radiohead on it. I smiled. He was such a huge fan of the band.

  I undressed, hanging my clothes over the back of the chair by his desk, and I slipped the t-shirt over my head, feeling a little silly as I did. It was baggy, far too big for me, but the cotton was soft after many years of washing. I lay back on his bed and pulled the duvet over me. I snuggled in his t-shirt and drifted right off to sleep.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  LOGAN

  †

  CHEYENNE’S NEVER BEEN GREAT at getting herself up in the morning. As I promised Mom and Dad, I went over first thing to get her up for work. I was pleased to see the door was locked, and I let myself in with my own set of keys. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve told her the importance of locking up at night.

  Opening the refrigerator was pretty much a reflex whenever I go over to the house and enter the kitchen. I found some leftover pizza in there, which made for a perfect breakfast.

  Munching on a slice, I poured myself a glass of orange juice and heard Cheyenne come into the kitchen. “I’m impressed,” I said, without turning around. “It seems you can get yourself up, after all.”

  But when she didn’t reply, I turned around to see Caitlyn standing there, rooted to the spot as she stared up at me. It was clear I wasn’t the first person she’d been expecting to see that morning. Her hair was gathered up into a loose ponytail, and her slim legs were bare. She wore something I recognized. I leaned against the counter, pizza slice in hand.

  “Well, now,” I said. “I haven’t seen that shirt in a while. I never knew you were such a fan of Radiohead, Caitlyn. I seem to recall you preferred Hannah Montana.”