Wild Hearts

by Jessica Burkhart

  “I like you like this,” he said, breathing a little hard. “I’m bringing you here more often.”

  We kissed, our tongues exploring each other’s mouths. Logan wrapped his arms around me, pulling me even closer to him.

  Whatever fear I had was quieted. I was over having my life dictated by when we would move. I was done not bonding with other people. I was just done.

  A sizzling sound came from behind me. I jumped and turned to the stove.

  “The pot’s boiling over,” Logan said. I hopped off his lap so that he could get up and remove the pot from the burner.

  “Oops,” I said, grinning. I stood and walked over to Logan. My knees felt bendy and pliable. I wasn’t sure the smile was ever going to leave my face.

  “Ready for your hat?” Logan asked.

  “Yes, please!”

  Logan pulled tongs out of a drawer and grasped my hat with them. He held it over the steam. “About thirty seconds for each side,” he said. “Give or take a little.”

  “What can I do?” I asked.

  Logan glanced around the kitchen. “Oh, open that drawer over there and get the can of Kahl Hat Stiffener. It’s brown and has a horse on it.”

  “This drawer?” I asked. Logan nodded, so I pulled it open. Inside was a mess of tangled twine, keys to various machinery, and Kahl Hat Stiffener. I plucked the bottle from the drawer, shut it, and placed the bottle on the counter next to Logan.

  He pulled the hat away from the pot and bent the rim. “Testing it out to see if it’s flexible enough,” he explained. “It’s just right. Do you want to shape it?”

  “You do it. I don’t want to mess it up.”

  “Pressure!” he said. He sat back on his chair and put the hat in his lap. Immediately, he began folding and rolling the brim as he made a crease in the hat’s crown.

  “I can tell you’ve never done this before,” I said, joking.

  He was silent—all his concentration on my hat.

  Thirty seconds later, the hat was back over the steam. Logan repeated the process and in less than ten minutes, the hat looked just like Logan’s, minus the dents and dirt streaks.

  “Wow,” I said. “It looks great!”

  He turned to me and placed the hat on my head. “No,” he said softly, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “You make it look perfect.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Always drink upstream from the herd.

  A couple of nights later, I was lying on my bed and twirling my cowboy hat. I flashed back to that night. Logan had dropped me off at the end of my driveway. I could have kept kissing him all night.

  I’d been working hard at the job site recently, since Logan was busy in the field and I wanted to get and stay on Dad’s good side. He was happily breezing through construction. The mustangs hadn’t shown up in weeks, and Dad and his team were making great progress on the build.

  My phone buzzed beside me and I picked it up. A tan cowboy hat, my new icon for Logan, was on my iPhone screen. I swiped the phone to answer and held it to my ear.

  “Hey,” I said. “What’s up?”

  “Just checking on my favorite girl while I’m on a break,” Logan said.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Planting a few rows of potatoes.”

  Through the phone, I heard him open a can of soda.

  “Are you tired?” I asked. “Can you stop soon?”

  “I’m hot, but not too tired. I can quit when my dad gets home.”

  “Good. You need someone to tell you to take a break or you’ll never stop.”

  “Well, I was thinking about taking Friday night off,” Logan said. “How about dinner at my house? Holden has a sleepover and my dad will be in the field until at least midnight.”

  I smiled into the phone. “I’d love that. Can I bring anything?”

  “Nope, just you.”

  We chatted for a few more minutes before hanging up. Once I’d ended the call, I typed a text.

  Ames! Dinner at L’s on Fri night!☺

  It took her seconds to write me back.

  !! Dinner! OMG! So excited for u! <3

  Yelling erupted downstairs and I jerked my head off my pillow. I dropped the hat on my chair and hurried down the hallway. “Mom?” I called. I found her pacing in the kitchen.

  She put a finger to her lips, phone pressed tightly to her ear. “Come home when you’re done,” she said into the phone, then tapped the screen.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. She slid into a kitchen chair and dropped her head for a second. “Is it Dad?”

  She nodded. “Your father . . .” She paused. “. . . had an incident at work.”

  “Oh, my God, is he hurt?”

  “No, sweetie. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you. He’s okay.” Mom reached across the island and patted my hand. “Apparently, some guy has been harassing your father almost daily since the job started. Letters, e-mails, phone calls—showing up and only leaving when the sheriff would come.”

  “I thought that was over?” I asked. “Everyone knows that Dad’s company didn’t

  just start chopping trees without all the permits and stuff. The building is going up—do people really think they can still stop it?”

  It felt like my insides were being ripped to shreds. All this time Logan had assured me that he’d spoken to everyone and that they had calmed down. This was not my version of calm!

  Mom shrugged. “I don’t know, honestly. I don’t think this person’s goal is to stop your dad, but rather to make the building experience as unpleasant as possible.”

  “What happened today?”

  “Your dad didn’t get into too much detail, hon. I guess the guy got in Dad’s face and they had a screaming match.”

  I swallowed. “No physical fighting?”

  “No,” Mom said, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. “Brody stepped in before it came to blows.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “The man was pretty persistent and Dad may be in for a bit of trouble,” Mom said. “Just be careful around town, okay?”

  I nodded. “I will. Why is this guy so upset?”

  Mom stood and started to make herself a cup of green tea. “Something about the mustangs.”

  “The horses have been gone. Dad never said a word about them when I was there. Nobody came by, either, when I was helping Dad. He’s been keeping this from us?”

  “Your dad and I will talk when he gets home. There’s a lot he hasn’t been telling me.” Mom turned the stove up higher. “You need to be careful, Brie,” Mom said. Tiny lines appeared on her forehead. She looked like she’d aged a couple of years in the past few minutes.

  “I will.”

  After she’d made tea, Mom headed upstairs for a nap. I grabbed my phone and went out onto the front porch.

  Logan answered on the first ring. “Hey, beautiful,” he said.

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, yourself. So, something kind of happened with my dad.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know very much, but some guy has been harassing him this entire time and my dad didn’t tell me or my mom. It’s not about the land. My dad just called a while ago and he told my mom that it was a fight over the horses.”

  “I’m sorry,” Logan said.

  “You didn’t know about this, did you?” I asked, my voice shaking a little.

  “Brie, of course not,” Logan said. “You have to trust me. I would have told you.”

  “Why is anyone still fighting this?” I asked. “As far as I know, the horses haven’t been near the job site in weeks. I’m waiting for my dad to get home so I can ask him if they’ve been back. I really just thought they had moved on somewhere else.”

  “Even if all that is true,” Logan said, “remember, the horses are still losing ground. People here care about that.”

  The way he said “here” struck a weird chord inside me. “What you just said makes it sound like it’s me and my family against you and the
town all over again.”

  “I’m sorry,” Logan said. “I didn’t mean for it to come off that way. I promise.”

  “I know that I’m not an insider, Logan. I’m reminded of that constantly by little things every day, whether it’s a tourist asking for directions that I can’t give him, or old ladies stopping in mid-conversation and waiting until I’m way down the sidewalk before they start talking again, like I’m going to spill their secrets to someone.”

  “Brie, I admit—I have always been ready to jump into action if something popped up with the horses. But you’re with me on that, right?”

  “I want to help the horses, too,” I said. “But I mean, I didn’t know you were so on edge about the situation.”

  Logan sighed. “I’m sorry. I really mean it when I say that I don’t know what’s been going on with your dad. I also want you to know that you’re as much a part of this town as anybody. You would be missed if you weren’t here, Brie.”

  I held back tears at his last line and was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay,” I said finally. “Thank you for talking to me about this. I’m going to wait for my dad and I’ll talk to you later.”

  We said good night and I sank into one of the large wooden chairs and closed my eyes. A tiny part of me wondered if Logan was glad someone was still making noise about the horses’ rights. Plus, everywhere he worked put him at almost all the best gossip sites in town. But I had to trust him. There was no way he would have known that this was going on the entire time and not told me.

  I opened my eyes and watched fireflies dance in the night sky. I settled deep into my chair. I wasn’t moving until Dad got home. I wanted to hear from him myself what was going on. I sighed. Maybe part of me, a part that I didn’t want to acknowledge, had a tiny hint of doubt about what Logan had said.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Love a horse before you fall in love with a man.

  Dad hadn’t said much the night he had come home and found me waiting on the porch. In fact, he had been pretty quiet all week. At first, I’d tried to eavesdrop on Mom and Dad’s conversations.

  But my dad could handle his problems. Plus, I had been kind of distracted. There was Logan, obviously, and Amy had taken the week off from Watson’s. She had planned our days almost from sunup to sundown to get the max out of her break.

  We’d spent afternoons in her room chatting, reading gossip mags, and doing our nails. Then we’d spent an afternoon at Lost Springs Town Square Movie Theater, where we had each paid a dollar to watch two Audrey Hepburn movies—Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Funny Face. Amy’s time off had provided the perfect distraction until tonight’s dinner at Logan’s.

  Logan was due at the end of the driveway any minute and I still had a straightening iron in one hand and only one shoe on. It still didn’t feel like the right time to tell Mom and Dad about Logan, so I’d told them I was having a girls’ night out with Amy. Mom had brought up Logan once or twice since our trip to the falls, but I’d lied and said we were just friends.

  “Wow, hon.” Mom’s voice jerked me out of my thoughts. She stood in my doorway, smiling. “You look so pretty.”

  “Thank you, Mom,” I said. I slid my other foot into my other black peep-toe bootie.

  I turned off the flat iron and squeezed a dab of finishing cream in my hands. I ran it through my hair.

  “What’s the plan tonight?” Mom asked.

  “Amy and I didn’t really set anything in concrete,” I said. “We might go one town over for dinner and we’ll probably see a movie.”

  I finished applying thickening mascara to my upper eyelashes. I dabbed peachy blush on my cheeks, white shadow in the corners of my eyes, and smoothed on a pink sheer gloss. Makeup was done.

  “Okay, hon. Have fun and please keep your phone on. Text us if you’re going to be home any later than one, okay?”

  “I will, Mom. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I put my lip gloss and phone into the small fuchsia Coach purse that Kate had given me for Christmas.

  In the mirror, my eyes swept over my reflection. I’d picked a soft-pink three-quarter-sleeve shirt that hugged my body and a pleated black skirt that hit just above my knees. A couple of bangles clinked on my wrist and a pair of skinny silver hoops hung from my ears. I adjusted my bra strap and stepped away from the mirror.

  I practically ran for the door. I wanted Mom to stay where she was. I didn’t want Mom to see me walking outside with no car waiting. It would send up tons of red flags that “Amy” was parked on the road.

  When Logan’s truck popped into view, I saw him leaning against the passenger door.

  “Wow,” Logan said, flicking his eyes up and down. “Brie, you look beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “You look very handsome.” He was missing his trademark hat and had paired dark blue jeans with a collared blue-and-white plaid shirt. His hair was neatly tousled.

  “For you.” He produced a bouquet of daisies.

  “Aw,” I said. I leaned forward and softly touched my lips to his. He put a hand on the small of my back.

  Headlights appeared in the distance. “We should go,” Logan said. “In case your dad decides to come home.”

  He opened the truck door for me and I climbed inside. He walked around the front and got into the driver’s seat.

  “Tonight is going to be great,” Logan said.

  With those words, my nerves immediately calmed. The second we stepped into Logan’s house, the smell of pot roast, herb-flavored vegetables, and vanilla wafted through the air. He turned a knob on the stove and with a few clicks small flames shot up and encircled the pot.

  “You made this?” I asked in surprise, peeking inside the oven.

  “It’s nothing,” he said modestly, stirring something in the pot on the stove. “I cook for Holden all the time. Of course, he wouldn’t eat this cranberry sauce I made, but I hope you like it.”

  “I’m sure I’ll love it,” I said, unzipping my booties and stepping beside him at the stove. “Can I help?”

  “Take these,” Logan said, placing a tray of dinner rolls in my hands, “and put them in the oven for nine minutes.”

  “Sure.” I stuck the gooey masses in the oven and Logan kept stirring.

  “Want to taste?” he asked, leaning toward me with the spoon. I nodded and cupped my hand under the wooden spoon as he directed it into my mouth. Warm cranberries filled my mouth. Logan grinned. “Good, huh?”

  “Excellent,” I agreed, wiping a bit of cranberry from my lower lip.

  “Here.” He leaned forward and gently touched my bottom lip with his thumb. I closed my eyes for a second when his thumb brushed my mouth. I stood still and brought my eyes up to meet his. Our lips touched. Soft at first and then harder. He tasted like cranberries—tart and sweet.

  We gently pulled apart as the cranberries boiled and popped.

  “We should fix those,” I said quietly. Nodding silently, he stirred the berries while looking at me.

  Forty-five minutes later, we had stuffed ourselves with cranberry sauce, tender beef roast in a savory thyme sauce, dinner rolls, mashed potatoes, and corn. Two vanilla candles burned at the table, their scent wafting around the room. I’d had one too many servings and wished my skirt had an elastic waistband.

  “Tell me another one,” I said to Logan, stretching back into my chair. We had been tossing around personal facts about each other for the past twenty minutes. So far I’d learned the following things: Logan was eighteen—I was embarrassed that I hadn’t known that until tonight—wished he could draw but couldn’t, and was the happiest when he was sleeping under the stars on Blackheart Mountain.

  “Hmm . . .” He paused and thought for a second. “My last girlfriend was in sophomore year. We were together for eight months and that’s my longest relationship.”

  “Why did you break up?” I asked.

  “She broke up with me for working too much.”

  “That’s not fair,” I said. �
�You didn’t choose to work all the hours—and jobs—that you do. You do it because you have to.”

  “True,” he said, nodding. “When was your last relationship?”

  “Eighth grade,” I said. “I was with the guy for five months. Then it was time to move again—from North Carolina to Texas. We promised to stay in touch and have a long-distance relationship, but that lasted maybe two weeks. He wanted to see other people and I was over it.”

  “He lost out,” Logan said, smiling.

  “Um, the girls here lost out,” I said. “How have you not had a girlfriend since sophomore year?”

  “What makes me so irresistible?” Logan asked, grinning.

  “You’re a cowboy,” I said slowly, tilting my head. Surely he didn’t need me to explain this to him. But his face was blank. “Don’t other girls find that appealing?”

  Logan shook his head and smirked. “School is filled with guys like me. If you went to classes at LSH, you might think I’m one of the dorky ones.” Yet, the way he was looking at me told me he didn’t believe that.

  I rolled my eyes. “Please. Don’t even try to play that card.” His foot brushed against mine under the table and all I wanted to do was kiss him. Again. A door slammed in the yard.

  “Who’s that?” I asked. Logan stood and peered out the window.

  “It’s my dad,” he said. “We should probably clean up.”

  I piled plates on my arm. “Oh, my God. Logan! Only Amy knows that we’re dating! I lied to my mom and it’s obvious that my dad doesn’t know. Should I sneak out a back door or something?”

  Logan seemed to freeze for a second. “No,” he said, snapping out of his thoughts. “You should meet him. I’d planned to tell him before tonight so that he wasn’t surprised, but this is how it is.”

  I moved to the sink and helped Logan rinse the dishes, my hands shaking. I was about to face the man that had caused so much trouble when we had first arrived in town. The kitchen door opened.