When Brooke was satisfied that the water had cooled the burning, she turned off the tap and used a paper towel to dry his hand. She held his hand in hers, and gently patted the tips of his fingers, careful not to hurt him. The burns, likely second degree by the look of them, spanned across three fingers and had already begun to blister.
“Does your mother keep a first aid kit handy?” Brooke directed the question toward Logan.
He nodded. “In the downstairs bath.”
“Chase, can you get me some neosporin and a gauze pad from the bathroom? she asked.
“Why, yes ma'am,” he said, and headed out of the kitchen.
“And some medical tape,” she added. “It should all be in the first aid kit.”
“Got it,” he called back over his shoulder.
“There's no need to make such a big fuss,” Logan said, aware that Brooke was still holding his hand in hers. Her skin was warm and soft. “It's just a few burns.” He looked into her eyes, and Brooke had the strangest feeling, like he could see inside her. She was suddenly aware of his proximity to her, and an odd sensation came over her. It was like butterflies, she thought, flapping their wings inside her stomach, fluttering furiously. She tried her best to ignore it.
“If they're not cared for properly, they could get infected,” she countered, drawing her eyebrows together. As she did, a crease formed on her forehead. She pulled her lower lip through her teeth, concentrating on the task at hand. She felt not just a little bit disconcerted.
She looked damned sexy when she did that, Logan thought. Maybe he'd have to get her pretty little nose out of joint more often, he thought, his lip curling up at the corner. Chase came back with the first aid supplies and set them down on the counter. Brooke got to work applying the antibiotic ointment first, putting a generous amount on each fingertip. Once she'd finished with that, she cut three small pieces of gauze and carefully wrapped one around each fingertip, taping them.
“There,” she said softly. “All done.” She looked up at Logan. He'd been watching her as she tended to his hand. She had a great bedside manner, he thought. Her patients likely were in love with her. He didn't blame them one bit. He looked down at his bandaged hand. When she realized that she was still holding it in hers, she abruptly let it go.
“Thank you,” Logan said, grinning at her.
“You're welcome.” She held his gaze for a moment.
From behind her, he heard Chase say to Seth, “Maybe if he asks her nicely, she'll kiss his boo-boo's.” Seth chuckled, and Logan shot them both his best go-to-hell stare behind her back.
“So if I ask you nicely, will you kiss my ass?” Logan tossed out, and the room erupted with laughter.
Dinner was delicious. Afterward, Brooke stayed for a while, talking and reminiscing with the MacKennas. There were times when she felt as if she'd never left Montana. And Brooke was beginning to feel more and more like she wished they could go back to when they were younger, and life was easy. Brooke talked with Nicholas, who was so in love with her. She'd completely captivated him. He'd always adored her, from the time she was a chubby, bouncing baby on her mama's lap.
“I really need to get going,” Brooke said, standing.
“Oh, we wish you could stay longer, but we understand. Thanks so much for staying for dinner and spending this time with us. We've loved it,” Diana said.
“Thank you for having me. I've had the best time.” Brooke said, hugging one of them after the other. Except for Logan, who made no move to touch her, let alone hug her.
“Logan, sweetie, why don't you walk Brooke out?” Diana suggested, and smiled to herself when neither of them resisted.
Logan walked her to her car, which was parked directly next to his truck. The air had become cool and Brooke shivered as she turned to say good night.
“Hold on a sec,” he said, and walked the short distance to his truck. He came back with a gray hoodie. “Why don't you put this on,” he said, holding it out to her.
“Oh, no, it's okay. I'm just driving next door.”
“Please,” he insisted.
She relented, pulling the hoodie over her head, and letting it fall over her body. It was soft and warm, and felt good close to her skin. It smelled like Logan.
“Thanks.” She said it softly, and looked up to see him watching her, intently. “Well, I...I'd better go,” she said, hating that he could make her lose her senses just by looking at her with those eyes. Those incredible green eyes that had the power to make her smolder under his gaze.“I'll make sure you get it back,” she said, sliding behind the wheel while Logan held the car door for her. It was something he'd done dozens of times, a simple gesture that had always made her feel like a lady. Some things didn't change.
“Good night, Brooke,” he said, in a voice so thick and husky that it made her think of sex. Of having sex. With him. God, how can he have this affect on me after all this time?, she wondered, painfully aware of this slow heat spreading through her.
“Good night, Logan. Take care of those fingers,” she said. He nodded as she closed the door and started the engine. She put the car in reverse and backed out gently, turning, and then drove out toward the road. She turned left toward home. Logan watched until her tail lights disappeared.
Sweet Jesus, is the only thing that came to mind. He'd made it through her doctoring session, and then dinner. But he'd barely made it through walking her to her car. He wanted her, in a way that he'd never wanted anyone, or anything. He didn't know how many times he'd be able to run into Brooke without something happening between them. It wasn't purely sexual. The feelings she'd stirred up inside him since she returned home were killing him, but the added element of this strong sexual attraction only added fuel to the fire. He didn't know how long he'd be able to stave it off. He was fairly certain that if he didn't do something about it, and soon, he may combust.
He thought about what it must have been like during the time of the caveman. When the caveman wanted his woman, he simply hefted her over his shoulder and carried her off to a dark corner of his cave. At least, that's how Logan imagined it had been. Although human behavior had evolved over thousands of years, Logan wondered if Brooke would appreciate such an act. Probably not, he mused, smiling at the thought.
Brooke awoke on the day of her birthday feeling down. She had no idea why. It couldn't possibly have something to do with the fact that she'd turned thirty, could it? she mused. Wasn't she supposed to feel different, older? Well, she didn't feel a day older than she did yesterday, she decided.
She'd already been in Montana for three weeks, and she realized that she was only marginally homesick. She did miss Ashley, though, like crazy. Ashley had phoned her that morning to wish her a happy birthday, and to say that she wished she could have made it to Montana to celebrate it with her. But she was in New York meeting with her publisher about her newest book. They'd made plans for Ashley to come for the Fourth of July, and both women had been so excited about seeing each other.
Brooke walked into the kitchen to an aroma that made her mouth water. Dinner was already in the oven and it smelled heavenly. Brooke couldn't wait to taste it. Karissa had really outdone herself, preparing a dish that was sure to be the talk of the evening. She'd baked a red velvet cake with homemade cream cheese frosting, an apple pie, and was in the process of rolling out dough to make mini-tarts. There was so much food that Brooke thought it could feed them for a week. Brooke was impressed by Karissa's mastery in the kitchen. When had her little sis become Betty Crocker? she wondered.
“Mom, tell me again why I need to have a party?” Brooke said to Raelyn, who sat at the kitchen table making a “to do” list while Karissa expertly rolled out the dough with a rolling pin.
“Because it's your thirtieth birthday, that's why,” Raelyn stated, looking up. “Not to mention the fact that we haven't celebrated your birthday with you since you turned twenty-one. Nine years, sweetie,” Raelyn said, shaking her head. “It's important to us,” she added, tur
ning her attention to her list once again.
It had been a long time, Brooke thought. She and Logan had completed their junior year at Harvard, and they'd come home to Montana for the summer. Brooke had turned twenty-one that June and her parents had thrown her a birthday party, a barbeque, she recalled, and they'd invited half the town.
In early July, she and Logan had vacationed to France for four weeks. She had always wanted to visit France, had even studied the French language in high school, and Logan surprised her with a trip to the most romantic place on Earth. He'd been so secretive about it that she'd never suspected a thing. And his thoughtfulness was just one more reason why she'd loved him so desperately.
They'd spent a week in Paris, and had been there to celebrate Bastille Day. They'd watched the fireworks from the top of the Eiffel Tower, the spectacular colors exploding over the River Seine. Then they'd taken a boat ride on the river. Logan had proposed to her that night, on bended knee, placing the most beautiful diamond engagement ring she had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes upon, on her wedding finger. It was something out of a dream, and Brooke couldn't believe it was all happening to her.
They'd spent weeks traipsing through France. They'd visited not only Paris, but Normandy, Chartres, Marsailles, and the Cote d'Azur. She'd especially loved Nice. The mountains and the coast were equally beautiful. They'd taken a train to the south of France, and enjoyed every minute of their adventure. It had been the most wonderful, most magical time of their lives. She was in the most beautiful place in the world with the man she loved and adored, the man of her dreams. Nothing could have been more perfect. But fairytales, as she'd come to learn, didn't really exist. They were just the silly dreams of young girls.
Ten months later, she'd had her heart broken and had moved out to the California coast, where she knew no one. She was devastated and alone.
“Brooke, can you hand me the vanilla from that cabinet there?” Karissa asked, waving a hand in the direction of the cabinet in question. Brooke, clearing her mind, rummaged through the cabinet until she came up with the requested ingredient.
Passing it to Karissa, she asked, “Don't you need any help?”
“Nope,” she said. “I've got it all handled.”
“Honey, why don't you go on upstairs and get ready for the party?” Raelyn suggested. “It won't be much longer now.”
“What won't be much longer?” Brooke questioned.
“Before our guests arrive.”
“And what guests would they be?” Brooke had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Raelyn looked up from what she was doing. “The MacKenna's, sweetheart.”
“Which MacKenna's?” she asked, suspicion taking root as she stared at her mother.
“Why, all of them, of course.” Raelyn smiled sweetly. She knew that Brooke would have her nose out of joint, but really, how could she invite all of the MacKenna's with the exception of Logan? She wouldn't do it. And besides, maybe putting Brooke and Logan together would be a good thing. Maybe, at some point, they could at least put some of their past behind them, where it belonged. It was hard seeing two of the people you loved most in the world hurting. She just hoped she was right about this and that she didn't make anything worse.
Brooke sat on the edge of her bed, trying to muster up the courage to join everyone else downstairs. She'd heard Diana and Nicholas MacKenna arrive about fifteen minutes before. Chase had shown up a few minutes after his parents, followed by Seth and Logan together in Seth's vehicle. She could hear them all downstairs, along with her parents and Karissa, talking and laughing. Brooke loved the sound of it. There had been many times over the years, too many for Brooke to remember, when the Cates and the MacKennas had gotten together. For birthdays, anniversaries, Sunday dinners, barbeques in the summertime, and any other celebration or event there was. They'd been more than friends, they'd been like a close-knit family. And they'd loved each other like one.
Diana and Nicholas had been friends with her parents since before any of them had been born. They hadn't grown up in Angel Ridge, but they'd moved there when they were young and just married. They'd bought the neighboring land and built their house there. They'd made it a home by filling it with kids and love and memories, just as her parents had done.
They'd been destined to become friends, Brooke thought. They shared the same beliefs and the same values. Both sets of parents were loving and kind, and tried to be a good example to their children. And they had tremendous faith. They were Christian in the truest sense of the word. Which is likely why they'd bonded so quickly and had nurtured a friendship that had lasted more than thirty years.
If destiny hadn't intervened, then Brooke would never have known Logan, would never have loved Logan. She had pondered that many times throughout the past. She believed that all of the choices a person made played a significant role in determining the outcome of that person's life, but that it was all a part of God's master plan. She just wished she knew what His plan was for her.
Standing, she smoothed her dress and prepared to head downstairs to greet her guests. When she reached the top of the staircase, she paused with her hand on the banister. She watched the scene in her parents' enormous living room below.
Her parents stood near the stone fireplace, her father's arm wrapped around her mother's waist, holding her close. They were talking with Diana and Nicholas, who were laughing at something her father had said. Karissa and Chase sat on the sofa, Chase's long legs stretched out in front of him as he listened to Karissa chat about some new ideas she had for the shop. Seth and Logan stood together in front of the huge picture window. Logan looked out at the spectacular view of the mountains, listening as Seth filled him in on the most recent development in the contract he'd recently landed.
She realized that the people she loved most in the world, with the exception of Ashley, were all there at that very moment, scattered throughout what had been one of the most significant rooms of her childhood home, waiting to celebrate this special day with her. Knowing it moved her. She hadn't really understood until that moment what it meant to be truly blessed.
Logan caught sight of her as she descended the stairs. He could only stare. She wore a white floral print dress, the colors beautiful and bold. Like Brooke, he thought. The top was designed like a halter, and the straps came up to tie around her neck. It ruffled around the hem, the front of the dress stopping just above the knee and the back dipping lower. She wore white high-heeled sandals. A delicate gold anklet with tiny pearls adorned her left ankle. Logan loved the look. To him it was totally sexy. Pearl drop earrings dangled from her lobes, and a matching bracelet graced her slender wrist. Thick, dark tresses tumbled down her back, nearly to her waist. Her eyes were gorgeous, the browns of her shadow highlighting the magnificent blue of her eyes. Thick black lashes added to the dramatic effect. Her lips, soft and full, were painted a glossy pink. She was stunning. Logan felt the first stirrings of desire, and he blew out a breath, knowing he was in for a long night.
Logan met her as she reached the last step. “Hi,” she breathed, giving him her full attention.
“Happy Birthday, Brooke.” He said it quietly, and watched her pink lips curve into a smile. “Thank you,” she responded. She was surprised when he leaned down and pressed his lips softly to hers. Surprised and unnerved. She felt the electricity instantly, and her body hummed. Damn him.
Logan felt it, too. It was unmistakeable. A smile of satisfaction tugged at his lips. He knew they'd still have chemistry. He wasn't sure of much, but he sure as hell was sure of that. That kiss didn't lie.
“I thought we'd have you open gifts after dinner,” Raelyn said, motioning toward the foyer table, which held a handful of prettily wrapped packages of various sizes and shapes. Brooke was touched.
“You didn't have to go to all this trouble,” she said to all of them, and no one in particular. “Thank you all, so much, for thinking of me, and for sharing this day with me. It means a lot.” She knew
how grateful she was to have them in her life.
“Ah, actually, if you don't mind,” Logan said, looking at Brooke, “I think it would be best if you opened my gift now.”
Brooke nodded. “Alright.” She wondered why he didn't want her to wait and open it with the others.
“I'll be right back,” he said, and disappeared out the back door. They all stood waiting, looking around from one to the other, curiously. Logan came back in, carrying a rather large box, wrapped in red and gold shiny paper and tied with ribbon, a huge red bow on top. Well, he definitely gets points for presentation, she thought. He placed it at her feet.
“What's this?” she asked, smiling at him. He smiled back, a brilliant smile that made her heart skip a beat.
“Happy birthday, Brooke,” he said softly. “Go on, open it.” She knelt down and lifted the lid off. She peered inside the box and let out a startled cry when a little ball of fur suddenly leaped up at her. Brooke let out a squeal of delight. Everyone else oohed and aahed. She picked up the little ball and held it in her arms, rubbing her face against the soft fur.
“Well aren't you the most adorable little angel?” she said, nuzzling the yellow lab pup. Her eyes met Logan's, who had been watching her with anticipation.
“You gave me a puppy.” It wasn't a question, but a statement, and Logan could hear the wonder in her voice. She kept her eyes locked on his. “You gave me a puppy,” she said again, more softly this time. She lifted the pup up in the air while it squirmed. “It's a girl,” she informed them, a smile spread across her pretty face.
“She's eight weeks old,” Logan offered. “And she's already had all of her shots. I've been working with her the past few days, trying to teach her a few tricks,” he said, and was taken aback when he saw that tears misted Brooke's eyes. Alarm filled him.
Second Chance at Love (The MacKenna Born & Bred Trilogy) Page 9
