by L. A. Fiore
The blinds are all closed. I knock, but I know he isn’t here. I just stand there in shock as Reaper sniffs the ground around me. I guess asking a man to talk about his feelings really is the kiss of death.
I don’t immediately panic, since there’s a good chance he’s off clearing his head like I had, but as the days turn into weeks, it becomes pretty clear that he has left Harrington. My anger eventually morphs into hurt before settling on fear. What if he was in an accident? After a great deal of deliberating, I call his agent.
“Hello, Maria St. John,” she answers.
“Maria, hi, it’s Saffron Mills. I’m a friend of Logan’s.”
“Yes, I remember. What can I do for you?”
“He’s okay, right? Unharmed and not in a hospital somewhere?”
She hesitates before answering. “What? No. No hospital.”
“He’s there with you now, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
My heart crumbles in my chest. “Sorry to have bothered you.”
I start to hang up when she says, “It’s not what you think.”
A lump has formed in my throat so painful I can barely speak around it, but I do manage to say, “Well, it doesn’t seem to matter what I think anymore.”
A week later, I’m working on obedience training with Reaper outside when two strangers approach me from the direction of my house. As they grow nearer, I feel my heart start to pound. It’s not Logan, but they look so much like him that I know immediately they are his brothers. They come to stop just in front of me and one rubs Reaper’s head.
“Saffron?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Broderick and this is Dante. We’re Logan’s brothers.”
A small smile touches my lips. There is no mistaking the family resemblance, but then remembering how he just up and left me, my voice turns cold. “He isn’t here; I haven’t seen him for a few weeks.”
“I know. He’s an idiot, but don’t hold that against him.” Broderick offers this with a grin that looks so much like one of Logan’s that my heart twists in my chest.
“May I ask who this fella is?” Dante asks.
“Reaper.”
“He’s adorable.”
I study the two of them for a moment but then I just have to ask, “Why are you here?”
“We wanted to meet the woman who has finally sunk our brother,” Broderick says with a mischievous look.
I am completely confused by his explanation. “I don’t understand.”
“He has spent the past few weeks moping around like a lovesick teenager and since he never was a lovesick teenager, we grew curious.”
“Well, I guess I find that all very interesting considering we had our first argument and he runs for the hills. I’m sorry your brother is moping, but I assure you it isn’t because of me.”
Broderick noticeably tenses in response, but it’s the look in his eyes that gives me pause: sincerity. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
I shrug, since I no longer know what I believe, but my voice when I answer sounds far more confident than I feel. “All I know is I had a relationship with a man, which culminated in the best weekend of my life and a week later, he runs. That doesn’t sound like the actions of a man in love.”
The reaction from the two is not at all what I’m expecting when they both howl with laughter.
“Oh man, so it is Logan that falls first. That’s so awesome,” Dante says.
“I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?”
Broderick turns smiling eyes on me. “Logan loves you, Saffron, it’s obvious.”
I can’t deny I like, no, I love and adore, hearing those words, but I’m not really eager for Logan’s brothers to know just how affected I am by them. Sweeping Reaper into my arms, I start for my house and call to them from over my shoulder. “You want to get a beer?”
They reply in unison and sound so much like Logan I can’t help but smile. “Hell yes.”
Sipping my wine, I listen to Broderick’s story. Both are smart, sweet, and funny. It’s obvious that the three of them are close so I ask, “Does Logan know you are here?”
“No,” they both say in unison.
“Why?”
“He would kill us, but we were all too curious.”
Narrowing my eyes at that comment I ask, “We?”
“Our parents are most eager to meet you.”
Picking up my glass, I take a very large gulp before I ask weakly, “Your parents know about me?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Logan talks incessantly about you.”
I can’t deny the flutter in my belly hearing that Logan talks about me to his family. “Where are you two staying?”
“The lighthouse.”
“How long are you staying?”
“Long enough for word to get back to our idiot brother. No faster way to put a fire under Logan’s butt than to make him jealous, and since his heart is engaged for the first time in his life, I’m guessing two, three days tops,” Broderick says before he gestures to Sarah for another beer.
“Where is he?” I ask this very softly and it’s Dante who answers me.
“He’s home in Scotland.”
“So I’m guessing by the ‘Logan is the first to fall,’ neither of you is married?”
“Nope.”
“And may I ask what you do?”
“I’m a lawyer, but I work for the family business and Dante runs the security for it. We’re MacGowan Enterprises.”
“Why have I heard that name before?”
“Because we have our fingers in everything: entertainment, publishing, investments, real estate.”
Broderick tilts his head and I suspect he’s gauging my reaction to what he says next. “Logan’s independently wealthy.”
“So women aren’t just chasing after the man because of his looks, but his money. And I suppose you were more than a little curious about the poor bartender from Harrington, Maine.” I move closer. “Did you think I was using sex to lure him in?” My intention is to tease them but there’s a part of me that wants to provoke them too.
They blush, which I find enormously funny. Broderick says, “We weren’t sure, but his track record is not very good.”
“Yes, well, I met Darla and she’s just charming. I think I’m going to friend her on Facebook, but then I’d have to read every thought that enters her head.” I stand up. “You can go back home and not concern yourselves with me. I fell for your brother when he looked like Bigfoot. I don’t need his money. I have plenty.” I hold their gazes and can’t help the anger I know is burning in mine. “I don’t chase after men.”
I don’t sweep from the room in outrage with my head held high only because I’m stopped mid-exit by a gentle touch on my arm.
“We’ve offended you. Sorry.” The contrition in Broderick’s eyes makes me relent.
“You were looking out for your brother. I admire that. I envy that you have siblings you’re close to. We don’t all have that.”
“Can we take you to dinner tomorrow night?” Dante asks.
I am probably going to regret this, but I counter his offer with one of my own. “How do you feel about dancing?”
Broderick is clearly taken by surprise with my suggestion when he says, “Dancing?”
“There’s a great club in Bar Harbor.”
Broderick glances at Dante. “Sounds great.”
“We’ll come for you around seven,” I reply.
The gang shows up at the lighthouse at seven the next evening. I hear the startled intake of breath from Gwen when Logan’s brothers appear. They’re hot.
I make the introductions before two pairs of green eyes look over at me. There is shock and a bit of wariness in their gazes. I’m dressed to party in clothes that are far too revealing and have lined my eyes in black, glossed my lips, and teased my hair so it’s all wild and sexy. I look like a sex kitten on purpose and I’ll more than likely act like on
e too. If Broderick and Dante are on recon, they’ll pass that information back to their brother. Childish and immature, absolutely, but oh, so satisfying.
“You guys ready?” I ask but I don’t wait for a response and start for Mitch’s car.
The bar is packed, but we manage to find a table. After my second drink I’m feeling pretty damn happy, so I toss off my jacket and turn to the table. “Anyone want to dance?”
Broderick puts his beer down and offers me his hand. The bass thumps as he leads me onto the dance floor. He has got some moves—he’s fluid and graceful when he dances. I can’t help my laughter when he reaches for my hand and draws me closer so he can sashay me around the dance floor. When our song is over, he leads me back to the table.
“You’re a lot of fun,” he says.
“I was just thinking the same about you.”
He winks at me as he helps me to my seat before returning to his own, but I’m not there long when someone touches my shoulder. “Dean, hi.”
“Hi, Saffron.”
The table greets him, but I notice that Broderick and Dante are looking at Dean in much the same way that Logan had.
“Broderick and Dante MacGowan, Dean Finley.”
They shake hands, but there’s definitely a chill in the air as Dean asks me to dance. I jump down from my stool. Just when we reach the dance floor, the upbeat song changes to a slow one. No spark or sizzle steals my breath when Dean’s arms come around me. It’s sweet and comfortable. I rest my head on his chest and close my eyes, but my thoughts are not on him. Every goddamn day I miss Logan, but it’s been weeks with no contact from him. I know that Broderick believes Logan loves me, but I don’t think so. I’m convinced that Broderick and Dante are only here to make sure I’m not some money-grubbing whore—that I’m not another Darla. The song is coming to an end and I lift my head and Dean takes that as an invitation and his mouth lowers to capture mine.
Pulling back, I push at his chest and he immediately releases me, but I see the heat and passion in his expression. He wants me and he’s here. He isn’t hiding himself or running away, and though his kiss doesn’t spark the passion in me that Logan can so easily create, I wonder if I’m not being a complete fool turning away from him. He may not be the one that makes my blood burn, but he could be someone with whom I could happily grow old.
“I’m sorry, Saffron.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not ready, but if I ever become ready, I’d like to try that again.”
His face lights up. “Absolutely, anytime.”
Back at the table he offers his good-byes before he disappears into the crowd. I feel the hot stares from across the table, but I ignore them and order another drink.
Two nights later, I have Broderick and Dante over for dinner. I’m preparing twice-baked potatoes and salad. Broderick is outside at the grill tending to the steaks and Dante is attempting to teach Reaper how to fetch. Seeing Dean brings Frank’s gift front and center in my mind. I can’t think what to do with it. That kind of money can make a real impact, but where should I focus? While I’m blending the cheese, milk, and scallions into the potatoes, the phone interrupts my thoughts. I lean over and hit the speaker button.
“Hello.”
My greeting is answered with silence and I assume it’s a hang-up. I’m about to hang up myself when I hear a female voice that makes my skin crawl. “Back off, bitch.”
“Who is this?”
But I hear the click a second before the line goes dead. I just stand there looking at the phone, a chill working its way down my spine. It sounded like a woman, maybe my age or younger. Back off from what? I try to dismiss it and finish preparing dinner. I’m not able to as easily dismiss the call when later that same night, while I’m plating up dessert, the phone rings again. When I hit the speaker button I hear, “Walk away, bitch.”
I don’t realize that Broderick and Dante have come into the kitchen until Dante growls, “Who the hell is this?”
But again the line goes dead. When Dante turns to me, his expression scares me. “How often does that happen?”
“Just started tonight. That’s the second call. The first one came early.”
“And what did it say?”
“‘Back off, bitch,’ but I’m sure it’s just some kids getting their rocks off.” Even as I speak the words, I know they don’t ring true. We have very little crime in Harrington. This kind of thing never happens. That knowledge settles like a rock in my gut.
“Maybe,” Dante says, but I can tell he isn’t convinced either.
It isn’t until the next day, when I receive the package with the severed head of a bird in it, that I accept this is more than kids playing a prank. With the head is a warning: a single line scratched on a slip of paper.
Keep out of where you don’t belong or else.
I call Sheriff Dwight, who comes immediately, since the last time we actually had crime was when Bobby and Rickie Curtis lit the town Christmas tree on fire in ’94. When he sees the package, I watch his transformation from the man I’ve known all my life to the cop. He pulls on latex gloves.
“I’m going to need to print you and your mailman, Gary, so I can discount your prints. Has anything else strange happened?”
I tell him about the crank calls and he jots it down in his notepad.
“Can you think of anyone who may have a grudge against you?”
I immediately think of Darla, but not being able to prove that, I hesitate to offer her name. “No.”
“I don’t like that they know where you live and have your phone number. It may be better for you to stay with Gwen or Josh until we either apprehend this person or it blows over.”
“No, I’m not running off, but I will be very careful to keep my doors locked.”
At that moment, Reaper comes padding into the kitchen, so I scoop him up into my arms. Sheriff Dwight scratches Reaper’s head. “I wouldn’t let him out of your sight.”
I pale at that thought, thinking of it being Reaper’s head in the box, and work to swallow past the lump in my throat before I reply, “I won’t.”
“I’ll take this with me,” he says as he bags the package. “Come down to the office tomorrow and I’ll print you. Meanwhile, I’ll see if Gary has any more information on the package’s origin.”
“Thanks, Sheriff.”
“Be safe.”
“I will.”
News of my gruesome mail spreads quickly and before long my house is filled with my friends. I’m touched by their concern, but their worrying is making me edgy. It isn’t until Broderick and Dante arrive that I actually lose it, because they don’t come alone. Logan is with them. As soon as I see him, I can’t help soaking up the sight of him. God, he really is beautiful. But then sanity slowly returns and I remember that he left.
“No!” I say as I throw up my hands. “No.”
Turning from him, I walk through the living room filled with my surprised friends and out the back door to the beach. I don’t get far before Logan’s hand is on my arm, but I jerk free of his hold and push him in the chest with both hands. “Go home, Logan.”
“Saffron.” I have missed that voice, missed my name on his lips, but that knowledge only fuels my anger.
“Go. I don’t want you here.”
“I want to talk.”
“No, you don’t get to talk.” I push him again, but since his chest is like a damn brick wall, it’s pointless. There’s patience and what looks a hell of a lot like love in his expression and this only makes me angrier.
“You walked, Logan. You left. You don’t get to just show up here now and play the knight in shining armor. I didn’t ask for your help and I don’t want it.”
There’s an odd cast to his face, as if he has no idea what I’m talking about, and then he says, “I know I have a lot of explaining to do, but please hear me out.”
“I don’t think I’m interested in hearing you out. It was just too damn easy for you to walk away.”
His temper flares and his eyes burn hot and dark. “I know I haven’t handled this well, but considering you were prepared to stab me in the eye over something I hadn’t done, I think I’ve earned the courtesy of you hearing what I have to say. Not to mention you walked first.”
He had me there and, even through my temper, I know I can’t deny him that.
“Fine, talk.”
“Not now. Can I come back tonight?”
It’s on my lips to tell Mr. High-Handed no, but I bite my tongue and hiss through my teeth, “Fine.”
I’m about to walk back to the house, but his softly spoken words stop me. “I’ve missed you.”
My heart flips over in my chest, but my head isn’t on the same page. “You left and you can spin that any way you want, but you can’t change that fact. Yes, I ran away, but I told you I was leaving. I didn’t just take off. And more importantly, I came back. Even called you while I was away. You left and didn’t look back. Getting involved with someone who is as emotionally stunted as my parents is not something I’m going to do. I can’t and won’t live that way again. I’ll listen to you, but you and me? That’s over.”
“I don’t accept that.” I almost laugh at his arrogance as he continues. “I have fallen in love with you: madly, wildly, and completely. I know you feel the same, so despite my idiotic behavior, I am not willing to lose you, not after I’ve finally found you.”
My emotions are just all over the place in response to that heartfelt declaration. I find I can do nothing more than stand there mutely for a few minutes until I finally open my mouth and say, “I’ll see you at seven.” And then I turn and disappear inside.
Seven o’clock arrives entirely too soon and there’s a knock at my door. I pull it open—Logan’s as punctual as usual. Then I head into the living room, leaving him to shut the door and follow after me. I’m sitting on the sofa near the fireplace when he enters the room and it really isn’t fair that I find him appealing in every imaginable way; just being in the same room with him makes my blood pressure rise.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” he says.
