by Tiffany Snow
The thought of Clive getting to my grandparents shut down my protests.
“We’ll go and I’ll take care of him when he shows up,” Devon continued.
“I thought you didn’t have the time.” Logan’s voice was bitter.
“I don’t have the time to hunt him,” Devon said. “So we’ll make him come to us. Much easier, and quicker.”
I didn’t know what to think about that. Clive was dangerous. By letting Devon lead him to my grandparents, I was putting them in danger, and I didn’t know if I trusted Devon to keep them safe. But what choice did I have?
“It’s Ivy’s call,” Logan said. Both men looked at me.
Logan’s hand was still wrapped around mine underneath the table. He gave it a squeeze. He knew what it meant for me to go back home, what it would do to me, what it always did to me. But I nodded.
“Okay. If that’s what we have to do to get rid of Clive, then okay.”
Devon gave a curt nod and finished his tea. Logan and I hadn’t even touched our coffee. Tossing some money on the table, Devon slid out of the booth. Logan and I followed him back to the car.
“We’ll stay at the hotel tonight,” Devon said, “and leave in the morning.”
Neither Logan nor I was in a position to disagree.
At the hotel, things got awkward.
“I’ll get a room for you,” Devon said to Logan.
“He didn’t take my wallet,” Logan said stiffly. “I can get my own room.”
“I’m quite sure you can,” Devon replied. “But your credit card is likely being tracked, and rather than waiting for Clive to show up, I’d like to get some rest.”
Logan’s face flushed, but he didn’t say anything. They faced off for a moment before Devon turned and headed for the registration desk. Logan turned to me.
“How much longer is this going to go on?” he asked. “You and him?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “Clive showed up, then Devon did, too.”
“Who is this Clive? What does he want?”
“He wants to get back at Devon,” I explained. “Something bad happened”—I really didn’t want to go into Anna and the virus right now—“and he blames Devon.”
“Should he?”
“No.” My answer was unequivocal. Heinrich had killed Anna. Not Devon. Devon had tried to save her.
Logan digested this in silence as Devon returned.
“Lucky you,” Devon said to Logan. “The room next to ours was vacant.”
“Wonderful,” Logan deadpanned.
“Come along, darling.” Devon reached for me. I still had hold of Logan’s hand and I had to make a split-second decision if I was going to let go or not. I hesitated, but before I could decide, Logan let go of me and Devon took my elbow.
When we reached our rooms, I gave Logan another long, hard hug.
“I love you,” I said softly in his ear, then I released him and let Devon guide me into our room. I saw Logan staring at us from the hallway as the door swung shut.
I was exhausted, the emotional turmoil having taken a toll on me. Collapsing onto the bed, I heaved a sigh. Devon sat next to me.
“All right, darling?” he asked. Reaching out, he tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear.
“I’m all right,” I said. “It’s just . . . we were almost too late. Logan nearly died. A couple more minutes—”
“Don’t think about it,” he interrupted. “The almosts and nearlys will paralyze you with fear. Accept it and move on.”
“I have to think about it,” I said, stung. “Logan’s my best friend. He means more to me than anyone in the whole world. And I could’ve lost him tonight. Forever. After my grandparents, he’s all I have.”
“That’s not precisely true.”
I looked at him, questioning.
“I’m here, am I not?” he asked. He said it lightly, but his expression was serious.
“Yes, but you said it yourself. We’re temporary,” I reminded him. “And apparently, you’d planned on leaving tomorrow.”
“So why not be with Logan then?” he said, standing and walking to the closet. He discarded his holster and gun and began unbuttoning his shirt. “He loves you. You love him. It sounds like a match made in heaven.”
I watched him, wondering if I was imagining the slightly bitter note in his voice. “I don’t love him like that,” I explained. “I don’t . . . see him that way. Logan’s like a big brother to me. I can’t imagine being . . . sexual with him.” I shied away from the very thought. It felt wrong to think of Logan in those terms.
“Well, he thinks of you that way,” he said, shrugging off his shirt. “So perhaps you ought to tell the sorry bastard how you feel.”
“I don’t want to hurt him,” I said.
“That’s unavoidable. He’s a grown man. He can take it.”
Maybe Logan could, but it would forever change our relationship. Would he still want to be around me? What if he didn’t? These last few months of hardly seeing him had been difficult. I knew I was being selfish and yet . . . I didn’t want to lose him.
Devon shucked his pants and climbed onto the bed, reaching to pull my shirt over my head. He was completely comfortable being naked, which sometimes unnerved me.
“Aren’t you tired?” I asked as he reached for the fastening of my jeans. His mouth settled over my breast.
“Never too tired for this,” he murmured.
And that happened to be true.
We were ready to go as the sun was just peeking over the horizon in the morning. I was tired after only a few hours of sleep, but Devon gave every appearance of being utterly rested. I had no idea how he did what he did with as little sleep as he got.
Logan was awake, too, but his face was drawn and his smile forced when he saw me. Devon had lent him a fresh shirt to wear and we did a quick stop at his apartment on the way out of town for him to pack a bag. I was glad we were heading west, the rising sun at our backs, as I sipped a steaming cup of coffee.
Devon had situated me in the front passenger seat before I’d even really thought about it, and I wondered at his sudden possessiveness, if that’s even what it was. Logan had taken the back without a word.
I’d left a message for my boss this morning, telling a white lie about my grandma being ill so I had to take off work for a few days. It wasn’t as though I could tell him the truth, and I hoped I’d have a job to come back to when this was all over.
We’d driven for almost thirty minutes when the silence started getting to me. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, but rife with tension and unsaid things. Maybe Devon was right. Maybe I should’ve talked to Logan last night. He’d confessed something very personal, and I’d pretty much just ignored it. That had to hurt. But I also didn’t think now was the right time to have that difficult conversation with him. It would have to wait.
“So how’s work been?” I asked Logan, twisting in my seat so I could see him.
He shrugged. “It’s all right. Supposedly, I’m on the short list for partner.”
“That’s great!” I enthused. “I know you’ve worked really hard for that.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Though after nearly dying last night, it doesn’t seem quite as important in the big scheme of things.”
“I’m glad you’re okay,” I said. “I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you.” When he didn’t reply, I looked up again and our eyes met.
“But Logan survived and all is well,” Devon interrupted. “Unless you’re blaming Ivy. Are you, Logan?”
Logan’s expression grew hard and his gaze swiveled to meet Devon’s in the rearview mirror. “I think everyone knows it’s your fault. Not hers,” he retorted.
“Shite happens,” Devon replied. “Consider it a temporary disruption to the dull monotony of your life.”
I wanted to chastise Devon for baiting him, but Logan spoke first. “My life is dull only when Ivy’s not in it. Can you say the same? Oh wait, she
’s a brief, fleeting thought in your mind as you pass through town. My mistake.”
Well.
“I think you presume to know quite a lot about me,” Devon said, his voice flat.
“I’m just saying what Ivy’s thinking.”
Devon glanced at me. “Is that true?”
I couldn’t disagree, but I didn’t want to start an argument either. Devon had promised me nothing. It wasn’t his fault I was in love with him.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Logan’s . . . overreacting.”
“Really?” Logan said. “He tells you to jump and you say how high. How am I overreacting?”
“It’s not really your business,” I said, getting irritated and embarrassed. I’d just been wanting to have a bit of conversation to break the silence, not get in some pissing match with Logan. “It’s my mistake to make, not yours—”
“You view me as a mistake?”
Devon’s question cut me off and I glanced at him, surprised at the note of hurt in his voice.
“I . . . ah . . . of course not,” I said, cheeks burning. “That came out wrong. That’s all.”
His blue eyes saw right through me until I had to look away. The car got quiet again after that, and this time I didn’t bother trying to break the silence.
It took a little over eight hours to make it to Dodge City and I was more than ready to leave the car—as well as Devon and Logan—behind. When we finally pulled up in my grandparents’ driveway, I was the first one out.
“You know, you can drop me off at my folks’,” Logan said, climbing out. “There’s no reason for me to stay here.”
“Best if we’re all together,” Devon replied curtly, swinging his door shut. “I don’t want to leave Ivy in possible danger because of having to go rescue you.”
Logan stiffened and I braced myself for another argument between them when the screen door on the porch swung open and Grams came out.
“Ivy? Logan? Is that you? Gracious, child! You didn’t tell me you were comin’!” She hurried down the steps and I crossed the drive to meet her.
“It was kind of a last-minute trip,” I said, hugging her. “Is that okay?”
“Of course it is! Your grandpa is going to be just beside himself to see you’re here. You don’t come to visit nearly as much as we’d like, you know that.”
She smelled like homemade bread and fabric softener, giving me a hug that was longer and harder than usual. Guilt crept over me. She was right. I didn’t come visit very often, and I had a good reason for that, but it wasn’t anything I could tell her.
“And Logan,” she said, finally releasing me. He picked her up off her feet in a big hug that made her laugh and blush.
“How you doing, Grams?” he asked, setting her back down. “Still breaking hearts all over Ford County?”
“Go on with you,” she chastised him, but I could see her hiding a smile. She loved Logan and he always could charm her to get out of anything he’d done, including eating her freshly made strawberry preserves in the summer.
“Now who’s this, Ivy?”
She was looking at Devon, her eyebrows raised as she took him in. Devon didn’t look like he belonged on a farm in the middle of Nowhere, Kansas. The aura of danger that emanated from him couldn’t be concealed and I saw Grams frown slightly. I hesitated, unsure how I should introduce him. Should I use his real name? Say he was my boyfriend? That felt odd.
“I’m Devon,” he said, stepping forward to take her hand. Gallantly, he raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss lightly to the backs of her knuckles. “And you must be Ivy’s sister.”
Grams laughed outright at that, but her cheeks grew pinker. “Well aren’t you the charmer,” she teased. “I’m this young lady’s grandmother, Ann. But you can call me Grams. Everyone does.”
“Ann is a beautiful name,” Devon said with a teasing smile. “Fitting for a lovely lady like yourself.”
“And are you Logan’s friend?” Grams asked. “Or—”
“Ivy has been kind enough to allow me to call on her,” Devon said. “We’ve been seeing each other for a few months.”
“Oh!” Grams said, noticeably brightening. Her smile was blinding. “You’re her beau! That’s wonderful! She’s never brought home a beau before.”
I wanted to groan, but kept quiet. At least she’d called him the old-fashioned “beau” rather than “boyfriend.” That was something. Gave it a bit of class.
“Grams,” I interrupted before she had us married off—I could almost see her eyes glaze over with wedding plan ideas. “We’re just going to stay a few days. Is that all right?”
“Of course it is, honey,” she said, waving off my concerns with a flick of her hand. “Your grandpa’s out in the fields somewhere, checking the crops. We had some hail last night, but I think it wasn’t too bad.” She turned back to Logan and Devon. “Go on and get your things, bring them inside. Ivy and I will just whip up some lunch.”
She slid her arm around my waist and I rested mine on her shoulders. A good foot shorter than me, she was plump and had hands that were work-roughened from many years of being a farmer’s daughter, then a farmer’s wife. We walked inside as she started chatting about the neighbors and the latest gossip from church. I didn’t look back to see how Logan and Devon were faring.
Lunch turned out to be fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy. I didn’t complain because my grams made the best fried chicken on the planet and Logan could put away an entire chicken just on his own. By the time Grandpa got back inside, there was a heaping platter of chicken on the table, a mound of snow-white potatoes, and a bowl of gravy that had my mouth watering. I was just pulling the biscuits out of the oven when Logan walked up behind me.
“Just like old times,” he said, snagging a biscuit off the sheet. And he was right. We’d spent many an afternoon at my grandparents’, the smell of food wafting through the air and sunshine dappling the ancient linoleum kitchen floor.
“Yeah,” I replied with a smile. “It is.” I set the biscuits down and took the oven mitt off my hand.
“They melt in your mouth,” Logan said. “Just like always.” He held the biscuit up to my mouth. I automatically took a bite. No one’s biscuits were as light and flaky as my grams’s.
“Mmmm,” was all I could manage with my mouth full.
Over Logan’s shoulder, I saw Devon standing in the doorway of the old country kitchen, watching us. He did not look pleased. As a matter of fact, the glare he was sending Logan’s way was intense enough that I took an instinctive step back to put some space between us.
“Is that my Ivy-girl?”
Logan stepped aside as my grandpa wrapped me in a hug. “Hi, Grandpa,” I said, squeezing him back. He was dressed in a pair of faded, well-worn overalls and smelled like the earth and sunshine. His face was weathered from too many years in the sun, but his smile was as warm and kind as I remembered.
“I can hardly believe you’ve finally come home for a spell,” he said once we parted. He moved past me and went to wash his hands in the sink. “Your grandmother’s been missing you somethin’ fierce.”
“And you haven’t?” I teased.
He laughed good-naturedly, drying his hands on a kitchen towel. “You know I always miss you. And I hear you brought home a special friend.” He gave me a meaningful glance.
I shrugged. “Just a friend. Nothing serious,” I lied.
“Well, you have the right of it, bringing him home to meet your grandmother. She can spot a bad apple at twenty yards.”
I wondered what Grams thought of Devon. Remembering her enthusiasm at his greeting, I doubted she’d be able to see past his charm and easy smile.
Lunch was awkward for a few minutes, until the easy routine of gossip and chitchat while passing food around the table overcame my jitters at having Devon there. I caught his eye a few times and wondered what he thought of my country family and down-home cooking, especially considering all the places I was sure he’d traveled around
the world.
“So. Devon, wasn’t it?” Grandpa asked in his “old-school” voice, the kind that he used when teaching Sunday School and that was guaranteed to cow even the most unruly ten-year-old boy into obedience.
“Yes, sir,” Devon replied.
“And what do you do for a living, young man?”
This should be interesting.
“I work for the government,” Devon replied easily, helping himself to another serving of potatoes. “The British government.”
Grandpa frowned. “So you’re not American?” Devon’s cultured accent was quite distinct from the sharp vowels and consonants of my grandpa’s Midwestern accent, but I guess he’d just assumed Devon was American regardless of how he spoke.
“No, sir.”
“Are you a Christian?”
“Protestant Church of England.”
“Protestant. Well, that’s all right then.”
I hid a smile. Thank God he hadn’t said he was Catholic.
“And what do you do for the government?” my grandpa continued.
“Grandpa, you don’t have to quiz Devon like this,” I interjected.
“Of course I do,” Grandpa said. “Now hush and let me get to know your beau.”
Oh, Lord. I wanted to slide from my chair and disappear under the table, but couldn’t. If I didn’t keep him in check, who knew if he’d be asking Devon about his “intentions” in the next few minutes? Which would just be mortifying.
“I work in foreign relations,” Devon said, which I thought was a nice euphemism for “spy.”
“That requires a lot of travel?” Grandpa asked.
“It does.”
“Not real good for a family,” Grandpa observed.
Devon hesitated, then gave a bland smile. “Perhaps not.”
“Hmm.” Grandpa was frowning and it seemed Grams sensed my dismay at the turn of the conversation, because she stood and started collecting empty plates.
“Ivy, you want to help me with these?”
I obeyed, jumping to my feet to help. I noticed Logan had a satisfied look on his face, so I stepped on his foot.
“Ow!”
I gave him a look. “You can help clean up, you know,” I reminded him. He’d eaten enough meals here to no longer receive guest status. He grimaced at me, but started helping clear the table.
