by Toni Blake
“No line for the ferris wheel—come on!” Amy heard Anna Romo say, and then realized she’d somehow come running up behind them and had grabbed his hand and pulled him away.
Logan and Anna stood a few feet from her now, Anna still tugging at him and laughing prettily—looking stunning and perfect as usual—and he glanced back toward Amy, saying to Anna, “I really can’t, I’m—”
“Yes you can,” she cut him off, and proceeded to drag him toward the ferris wheel. The very ferris wheel Amy had just been thinking it would be so romantic to ride with him.
Logan looked truly bereft as he glanced again in her direction to mouth the words: Sorry. I’ll be back.
But that didn’t mend the puncture wound to her heart. And as she watched Anna Romo still holding tight to his arm as they stepped onto the ride together, Amy felt completely alone, completely abandoned.
Fourteen
Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken.
Jane Austen, from Emma
Anna had come to the carnival feeling a mixture of dread and boredom. She’d let herself be talked into staying in Destiny, but at moments she wasn’t sure why, and this had been one of those times. And then, from a distance, she’d seen Logan and everything had changed. Her boredom had turned into anticipation—and into the wild need to make something happen in this quiet little town before she completely lost her mind. She’d suddenly felt aggressive and take-charge in a way she couldn’t have stopped if she’d wanted to—that was just how she was sometimes, how her upbringing had made her. She was in the mood to have some fun, and now she was going to have it—finally—with Logan Whitaker.
As soon as their ferris wheel car started upward, she faced him, flashing her best coy smile. “So where’d you disappear to at the wedding? I’d been hoping we might get together afterward, and then suddenly—poof—you were gone.” Still turned in his direction, she crossed her arms in mock anger. “You abandoned me.”
Yet the sheepish expression he wore in reply completely surprised her—she’d never seen Logan react to anything that way before. “I, um . . . well, it’s a long story, but I was with . . . a friend.”
Hmm. She wasn’t sure what that meant, or why he was being so vague, but her current mood kept her from caring very much. The truth was, it didn’t matter where he’d gone after the wedding—that was old news and she was much more concerned with right now. And right now, once and for all, she wanted to kiss him. She’d been waiting for him to make that particular move, but she was tired of waiting.
So without further ado, she leaned over, placed her hands on his shoulders, and energetically pressed her lips to his.
She could tell it shocked him, though she wasn’t quite sure why. Had he not known things were headed in this direction? Did things in Destiny move that slow?
Well, it didn’t matter—stopping the kiss for a brief second, she met his gaze, only inches from hers, and then kissed him again. Her palms drifted lower, to his chest, and his closed lightly on her upper arms. She moved her mouth on his, sinking into the kiss, or attempting to anyway. She wasn’t quite sure he was into it, but she kept trying, luring with her lips, attempting to get him where she wanted him.
That was when he drew back.
She bit her lip, dismayed, then let out a breath. And since she wasn’t in the mood to pull any punches, she said, “Um, why are we stopping?”
“Well . . . I’m kinda here with Amy.”
Whoa. What? The ferris wheel came to a stop to let more people on or off below, parking Anna and Logan at the very top. Other than the glow of lights far beneath them, darkness surrounded them and Anna couldn’t help but think how wrong this suddenly felt. This should be romantic, exciting, the moment when she and Logan were finally moving forward. Could she have truly read the whole situation so wrong?
“Amy? I didn’t know you and she were . . .” She trailed off, though, remembering that, in fact, he had been walking with Amy when she’d first spotted him on the ground a few minutes ago. But everything she’d seen and heard, even from Logan himself, had led her to believe the two were just friends, so it had never even occurred to her that they were here together. That way.
“We weren’t,” he finally said. “It’s . . . new. Something we’re trying on for size.”
Oh. Hmm. She didn’t exactly know how to interpret that, but . . . well, it sounded pretty sketchy and undefined, and made her feel a lot less like a trespasser than she had a few seconds earlier. And though logic and good manners told her now was the time to back off, she’d suffered nothing but various frustrations since arriving in this tiny town, and she just wanted . . . what she wanted. And besides, she wasn’t used to guys turning her down or not being interested, and having Logan say no compelled her to change his mind and make him say yes.
“Maybe you should try me on for size,” she said—and then she kissed him again, deeply, passionately. She knew she hadn’t misread all the signals he’d sent her these last few weeks—and she was determined to prove that to both of them.
And then finally—finally—she felt him relax a little, kiss her back more naturally, more like she’d expected in the first place, and a hot ping of desire danced through her body. Yes! At last! Thank God.
So it surprised her when he again ended the kiss, almost abruptly, pulling back, using his hands to push her slightly away. Wow. She’d never had any guy do that in her entire life and she couldn’t deny that it felt, at this point, downright embarrassing.
She simply drew in her breath, let it back out. And as the ride began to move again, she just looked at him, waiting for him to explain. Maybe this really was about Amy—but whatever the reason, she needed to hear more. After all, they’d been spending time together, and it hadn’t been purely platonic. If he wasn’t going to kiss her, he needed to tell her why.
“It’s not that I’m not into you, Anna,” he said, “but like I said, I came with Amy tonight. So I feel pretty shitty about this—both for her sake and yours. And besides, maybe this doesn’t feel right . . . because of Mike, too.”
“Oh, for crying out loud!” she practically spat at him. “I’m so tired of hearing about Mike trying to protect me. I don’t need protecting, Logan—I’m a big girl more than capable of handling my own affairs. He has no right whatsoever to just march into my life and try to tell me—or you—who I can see or what I can do. It’s freaking ridiculous!”
“Technically, you marched into his life, and he loves you,” he retorted. “Don’t get me wrong, I totally see your point—but he’s my best friend, Anna. When you disappeared, I went through that with him. And I’ve gone through everything with him ever since. So I can’t just ignore his feelings on this.”
She sat there, speechless, seething, as the ferris wheel turned, fast enough now that the breeze lifted her hair from her shoulders. She understood about Mike, how hard his life had been because of her, and she was truly, deeply sorry about that. In fact, it was a lot of weight to bear on top of everything else. But what happened wasn’t her fault—she’d been one of the victims—and she didn’t intend to spend the rest of her life paying for a crime she hadn’t committed.
Logan went on. “It doesn’t mean he’ll be like this forever. It’s only that having you back is new—he’s going through a period of adjustment, and so are you. Things’ll get easier. And so . . . even though I like you a lot, and even though I know at the wedding he said he’d back off, for now we just need to . . . stay in this holding pattern. I know that sucks, but try to be patient and remember it’s because he cares so much. And because I care about him. He’s not the easiest guy in the world to be with—trust me, I know—but it all comes from a good place, I promise.”
She let out a sigh, almost annoyed that the stuff he was saying sounded so . . . reasonable. Patience was a virtue—just one she didn’t necessarily possess right now.
She mus
t have looked upset, because that was when Logan put his arm around her, as if to comfort her. “Look, this will all even itself out. Just give Mike a chance to work through his growing pains with you, okay?”
She hardly had words to answer with. Because she still thought the whole issue was beyond silly. But since Logan was such a nice guy, she murmured, “Okay. Only . . .” And maybe she should shut up, but again, she’d never been shy, and she just needed to know. “What are we, Logan, you and me? Is anything going to come of this?”
He let out a breath she could hear as the ferris wheel carried them upward. And he looked just as confused as she felt at the moment when he said, “I don’t know, Anna. I’m sorry, but I honestly don’t know right now.”
Logan felt like a jerk. To both Amy and Anna. Damn it, sometimes it was easier to let yourself be swept along by the tides of life—like when Anna had grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the ferris wheel and he hadn’t wanted to embarrass her or hurt her feelings by breaking away. But then he’d looked back, seen the expression on Amy’s face, and knew he’d made the wrong call—and by that time it had felt too late, like the deed was already done.
And then Anna had started kissing him. And he’d thought—hell, I know I’ve screwed up tonight with Amy, and I’ve wanted Anna for awhile now, so maybe I should just go with the flow—but that hadn’t worked either. He didn’t know why, but kissing her somehow . . . hadn’t felt right. And he’d told her, and himself, that maybe it was about Amy, and that maybe it was about Mike—but it was more than that. It just hadn’t been . . . like he’d thought it would, like he’d wanted it to be. And he had no idea why.
God, he was torn inside. About a lot of things.
In addition to this Anna situation, he was still trying to decipher his feelings for Amy. They were good friends. Now they were lovers. But could you really be both? He had no idea. And as much as he loved Amy, things were suddenly a hell of a lot more complex between them. He suddenly had to worry about hurting her feelings if he was with her and another girl came along—that was brand new, and a little hard to adjust to. And it had felt . . . different to him than before when she’d insisted he should return to his old job. What had previously felt like friendly advice now felt . . . more insistent. And he knew she meant well, but he also knew that being a firefighter just wasn’t right for him anymore.
As the ferris wheel continued to turn, he tried to make more casual conversation with Anna, just to relax things, for both of them. “Clear night. Look at all the stars.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly. She still didn’t sound happy, but she leaned her head back to look as their car again passed over the highest point in the rotation. “It’s nice.”
“Bet you see a lot more stars out here than when you lived in the city, huh?”
She nodded, admitting almost grudgingly, “I guess this place does have a few perks.”
He laughed. “More than a few. You’ll see. Things really will get better for you here, Anna.”
“I hope so, Logan,” she said, arms crossed, but at least it came with a small smile. Then her look grew more introspective. “You know, I never came here expecting to stay. Somehow that part just happened. And now I feel . . . like something invisible is holding me here, like I’m supposed to stay, even though I don’t fit in and don’t like being smothered by my family and my existence would surely be easier back in Indy where I have friends and a life. It’s hard to explain. And even harder to deal with.”
But Logan didn’t answer—instead, he simply met Anna’s gaze with his own, letting her know he empathized.
And for a moment, he almost had the urge to tell Anna . . . other things. Important things. About him. He’d almost had the same urge on the night of Rachel’s bachelorette party at the Dew Drop Inn—when Anna had said he’d make a better fireman than a bartender. In one way, he hadn’t wanted to burden her with his troubles, but as the night had gone on, he’d considered finding some moment and maybe telling her . . . the reason he couldn’t be a firefighter anymore. The way he’d ended up telling Amy after the wedding.
But just as quickly as the thought occurred to him, he let it pass, same as he had that night at the bar. Because it was kind of like that kiss. Maybe some time in the future, it would feel right—but not tonight. Tonight was weird enough already. Confiding in Amy had made sense, and once he’d started, it had come . . . almost naturally. But confiding in Anna, even right after she’d confided something in him . . . well, for some reason, his heart just wasn’t in it.
The next time the ride carried them downward, their car came to a halt at the loading ramp and the operator opened the door. And as they stepped off, reimmersed into the sights and sounds of the carnival, Logan remained just as conflicted as when he’d stepped on.
Anna was easy to be with, fun. Other than the Mike situation, she came with no real complications. No judgment. No history between them. And that was usually exactly the kind of relationship he enjoyed with a girl.
And yet . . . he was beginning to wonder if maybe he really did have feelings for Amy, romantic ones. She was harder to be with in ways—and the conversation about him returning to work at the fire station still rankled. And yet . . . he was bummed when he got off the ferris wheel and didn’t see her standing anywhere around.
Which was the precise moment it hit him: Had he really expected her to be? After he’d let Anna lead him away from her like that? It was still hard to grasp that what would have been fine between him and Amy a week ago wasn’t anymore. And if he’d come off that ride thinking she’d be standing there waiting for him with open arms . . . damn, he was an idiot.
“I, uh, kinda gotta go,” he told Anna.
“I, uh, kinda figured that,” she said in a teasing way. But at least, again, she was smiling.
“I’m sorry about what happened on the ride, Anna. As the old saying goes, ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ And in this case, it really is me.”
In response, she gave her head a tilt, her look somehow light and sarcastic and judgmental all at the same time, and it clearly said: You don’t know what you’re missing. “Well, if you get over whatever it is, Logan,” she said, “you let me know.” Then she gave him a wink and walked away.
When he spotted Jenny and Mick at the nearest game booth, he approached. Mick threw baseballs at milk bottles, apparently trying to win Jenny a big, stuffed cat that he instantly knew Amy would love. “Have you seen Amy?” he asked Jenny.
“Yeah—I spotted her heading to the parking lot a minute ago. She looked pretty bummed out and didn’t even say bye.” Her eyebrows knit. “Is anything wrong?”
Damn. His stomach sank. Upsetting Amy suddenly felt a lot worse than upsetting Anna. “Pretty sure I hurt her feelings.”
Jenny sneered lightly. “That’s not like you, Logan. I hope you’re gonna do something to make it up to her.”
He glanced to the stuffed cats again. They were gray and white, just like Mr. K. And it just so happened that he was pretty good with a baseball, as he’d proved earlier at the dunking booth. “As soon as I win her a stuffed Mr. Knightley,” he said, then got out his wallet and handed over a five-dollar bill to the young guy running the game.
If there was one way to Amy’s heart, he knew it was a cat—stuffed, real, or otherwise. And that was when it hit him squarely in the face—he still didn’t know where he and Amy were going, but in this moment, that was where he wanted to be: in Amy’s heart.
Amy sat in the dark in the bookstore, curled up in the easy chair that faced the wide window, Austen snuggled in her lap. Running her hand through the fur on the kitty’s back was comforting. Cats. They never hurt you. They might ignore you a little sometime, or even misbehave, but they were always there when you needed a friend.
She wore pajamas—well, a large nightshirt featuring a gray cartoon cat and the words Cat Lady, a birthday gift from Rachel one year. She’d only come down to the bookstore from her apartment above because she’d felt the need to be i
n the place she loved most, surrounded by the things she loved most—books. Another comfort. It was less lonely here than the apartment had suddenly felt. Especially since Knightley had been in a persnickety mood. “You could teach him a thing or two about being a good cat,” she told Austen now. She loved Knightley with all her heart, but his unpredictable behavior lately had her feeling a little critical at the moment.
The glow from the streetlamps that lined town square threw shadows of light in the window, illuminating her feet, which she’d now lifted to the coffee table resting between the big chairs. She glanced at her perfectly painted pink toenails—Cotton Candy, selected especially for her date with Logan. “Ha, some date,” she said then.
She still couldn’t believe one minute he’d been ready to kiss her, and the next Anna Romo had dragged him away. “I could have made a stink, I could have pulled at his other arm,” she told the cat in her lap, “but who wants to be in a tug of war over a guy, especially with Anna Romo at the other end.” Even as desperate as she felt in moments, she wasn’t that desperate, not desperate enough to lose her dignity. And she’d just had too much self-respect to stand waiting for him at the bottom of that stupid ferris wheel. After all, he’d let himself be dragged onto it. It had put him in an awkward position, sure, but he could have stopped it if Amy’s feelings had been more important to him than Anna’s.
So she’d left. And so it turned out that driving separately had been a blessing. And maybe Logan didn’t even know this had been a date, and maybe that was the way it was meant to be—maybe that meant she could feel a little less humiliated by the whole thing.
“Maybe when all is said and done,” she said thoughtfully to Austen, “I’m just destined to be alone. Maybe one night of happiness is all I get. Maybe that’s . . . supposed to be enough, better than nothing. And at least I won’t die a virgin, right?”
