Cricket Cove (27 page)

Shaking his head, Logan turned and went out again, this time heading for the bakery. He got the cake she’d specified, returning a few minutes later with the white paper box in hand. He held it up, and she nodded.

“Good job. What do you think?” She held the bouquet of flowers out for his inspection, and Logan felt something inside him soften.

“I think it’s perfect.” The bouquet was full of blooms ranging from the palest pink to a deep rose, and the flowers were all just at the peak of their beauty. She’d wrapped it in a soft pink–and-white tissue paper and tied the whole thing together with a lacy ribbon.

He paid for the flowers and thanked her. He had reached his SUV when the sound of a throat clearing caught his attention. Closing his eyes, he released a half-groan, half-sigh. Sure enough, when he opened them back up, Zanny was standing in front of the studio.

“Don’t even think you’re leaving until I see those flowers,” she chided.

He put the cake in the passenger seat, then closed the door and walked to meet her. Without a word, he handed the flowers over.

Zanny took them, her face softening, and went inside. He had no choice but to follow.

“These are so pretty,” she said, tracing the petals of one of the roses before handing the bouquet back to him. “She’ll love them.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “Oh, yes. We didn’t get much of a chance to talk yesterday after all the drama. How is Pip?”

“She’s okay.” He looked over at the poster-size portrait of Noah and Eli, who were posing with baby Molly. “How’s John? They butted heads a bit. I’m sorry about that. I feel a bit like it’s my fault.”

“It is,” she surprised him by saying. “We know you hurt her when you first came to town, and while Pip is ready to apparently forgive you, the rest of us aren’t being so quick to follow. She’s the heart of this family as much as Sarah is, and when she’s hurt, it affects the rest of us.”

Logan didn’t know how to respond. He knew he could promise he’d never hurt her again until he was blue in the face, and it wouldn’t do a bit of good. He settled on telling her, “I understand. I should go. She’s expecting me.”

As he drove to Amelia’s, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. If they didn’t end up in a permanent arrangement, she was going to have to deal with the fallout as much as he was. And he was starting to realize just how much of a problem that could be. It had been all too easy to set aside those concerns and take what he’d wanted. After all, she had wanted it, too. And it wasn’t like he was intending to just use her and discard her, far from it. But he worried that when the time came to commit, he wouldn’t be able to do it, no matter how much he cared for her.

The risk that he would end up hurting her much more seriously in the long run was too great. He could have injured her last night during his nightmare. Logan would have a hard time living with himself if he did.

He glanced down at the flowers. “What are you doing?” he asked himself.

The memory of the way she’d nestled in close to him that morning after breakfast gave him his answer. He couldn’t resist being near her, being with her. She made him happy, damn it. And Logan couldn’t remember the last time he’d been happy. If he had to guess, it was before his mother had died.

Even the thought that if he stayed with her, they would, in all likelihood, end up having children wasn’t enough to douse his need for her.

He was going to have to learn to deal with his nightmares and his fears. Otherwise they would both be paying for his negligence for a long time to come.

Chapter Forty-Three

A
melia was incredibly, ridiculously nervous as she waited for Logan to show up. The sound of every car that went up the hollow had her tensing, waiting to see if it was him.

“I should have set a time,” she muttered as she checked the homemade yeast rolls she’d been proofing. They were ready to go in the oven, and she popped them in.

She’d been off her game all day, starting with her discovery that a family of mice had set up housekeeping in her pantry. As this was something she’d dealt with the first year she’d lived in the trailer, she had most of her dry goods put up in plastic containers the little bastards couldn’t get into. But a few bags of beans she’d shoved into the closet before she’d left had been casualties, as was a bag of sugar.

After cleaning up that mess, she’d made a grocery and post-office run, then returned to clean the rest of the house like a woman possessed.

Logan
was coming over. It was almost like
a date.
And the only way she’d been able to get the least bit of a handle on her nerves had been to stay busy. Looking around the kitchen at all the food she’d cooked, a good portion of which she’d freeze and put up for quick meals for later, she shook her head.

“You are Sarah Campbell’s daughter, no doubt.”

The timer for the rolls had just beeped when the flash of headlights washed across the kitchen. This time, there was no doubt someone had pulled into her driveway. She froze, her stomach going nuts with butterflies. She took a breath and pulled the rolls from the oven, then glanced down to make sure she looked okay. She’d chosen to wear a long broom skirt and wrap sweater over a silk camisole. Her hair was up with tendrils loose on her neck, and she’d dabbed perfume here and there.

She didn’t go to the door until he knocked. Since the evening wasn’t bone-chillingly cold, she’d left the front door open with the screen door locked. The porch light illuminated Logan, who was propped against the doorjamb. He smiled when he saw her.

“Hi,” she said softly as she unlocked the door to let him in.

“Hi. Brought you something.” He handed her a small white pastry box. “I heard you like chocolate cake.”

Giddy, she nodded. “I do. Thank you.”

When he whipped a bouquet of flowers from behind his back and handed them to her without a word, Amelia gasped softly.

“Oh, Logan.” She handed the cake back to him and took the flowers. “Oh.” She buried her nose in them, sniffing out the fragrance that the florist’s coolers hadn’t destroyed.

“I guess you like those, huh?” The expression on his face was hard to define when she looked up. She settled on intense and pleased.

“Yes.” She didn’t know if she could say another word without bursting into tears. Family aside, no one had ever gotten her flowers. Not even Jimmy. She turned and went to the kitchen to pull a vase out for them, struggling against her emotions.

Logan followed. “Okay, now I’m worried. Are you crying?”

She swiped at her cheeks. “No.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t? Then I guess you’ve sprung some odd kind of leak.”

Amelia turned her face into his palm when he touched her cheek. “I’m sorry. It’s just that no one has ever… Thank you.” She couldn’t stop looking at the flowers. They were exactly what she would have picked for herself. The significance of the box finally penetrated her mind, and she laughed. “Whose arm did you twist for information, soldier boy? Emma or Zanny?”

“What do you mean?” He tried to look innocent, but his lips were twitching. “I did this all on my own.”

She slid her arms around his waist and hugged him. “Uh-huh. Well, you did good. Thank you, Logan.”

“I find it incredibly difficult to believe no one has ever given you flowers before,” he whispered, tracing her lips with his finger.

“Well, they haven’t. Not counting my family, that is. Thank you.”

He teased her lips with his. “It seems I’m your first in several ways, then.”

After a lengthy, heated kiss, he pulled back with a sigh. “Something smells beyond good.”

Amelia watched his eyes widen as he looked around the kitchen at all the food. She burst out laughing. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to eat it all. Most of this is for the freezer.”

He lifted the lid of one of the cookers on the stove. “I was starting to worry. I mean, I know we worked up an appetite from last night, but damn.”

“Hush.” She smacked him lightly on the arm. “You’re welcome to any of this, but I made the pot roast, potatoes and carrots, beans, and rolls for tonight.”

“Don’t forget the cake,” he teased. “Though if I’d known you had fixed all this…”

She pinched his butt. “Don’t even joke about not bringing chocolate. I’m a total stereotype when it comes to that magical substance.”

They talked about their days as they ate. When she told him she had to go to Whitesburg the next day, he pouted a little.

“I was hoping we could have lunch together.”

Amelia sat back and shook her head. “I figured you’d be tired of spending time with me by now.”

Logan was solemn when he answered. “No.”

There were those damnable butterflies again, tickling her stomach. “No?”

“Not even close.”

She ran her foot up his leg in a caress, feeling oddly humbled. “That’s good to know.”

He helped her with the cleanup without even being asked. After all the food was put away, they headed into the living room. When she saw him wince as he kicked his shoes off, she frowned.

“Hip still bothering you?”

Logan’s mouth tightened, but he nodded. “It isn’t too bad. Just a little aggravated.”

She’d wondered about that all day, whether he would still be paying for their escapades from last night or not. Just in case he was, she’d prepared. She checked the front door to make sure it was locked, then started down the hall.

“Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the bedroom.” When he didn’t respond, she glanced over her shoulder at him. He was fighting a smile. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Sarge. I’m not taking you in here to seduce you. Yet.”

The trailer had originally belonged to Zanny’s father. An over-the-road truck driver, he hadn’t been home a lot, but when he was home, he’d liked luxury. He’d not only had a fireplace installed in the living room, but in the bedroom, as well.

“Go ahead and strip down, please,” she instructed as she bent to light the fire she’d laid earlier.

Logan was looking around, and she realized that this was the first time he’d had a chance to observe her room. The other night they’d spent here, he’d been in no shape to take note of the decor. “I left my bag in the car. I didn’t want to presume anything,” he confessed as he traced the lines of the quilt that covered the bed.

“Like whether you’d be staying the night?” she asked.

“Yeah, like that.”

Amelia crossed to him and started tugging his shirt from his waistband. “Well, that decision is entirely up to you, but I was hoping you would stay.”

“So maybe you aren’t tired of my company, either?”

“No, I’m not.”

He tried to kiss her, but Amelia stepped back. “Not just yet. Let’s get some of those kinks worked out first.”

“I’m trying,” he teased as he dropped his shirt into the chair beside her dresser.

She made him strip down all the way, not even letting him leave his underwear on. His heavy erection jutted out, telling her very blatantly that he was interested in more than a rubdown. She couldn’t resist touching him, though she kept her contact brief.

“On the bed, facedown, please.” Once he had taken his glasses off and had lain down, she grabbed a bottle of lotion and climbed onto the bed. Lifting her skirt, she straddled his legs below his hips. “We’ll start with your shoulders and work our way down. How does that sound?”

“Can we start with my front first?”

Amelia laughed. “No. If you behave,
maybe
we’ll finish with your front.”

For the next few minutes, there was little conversation as she slowly worked on the tense muscles across his shoulders and down his spine. When she approached his lower back, Logan let out a sigh.

“I didn’t realize I was so tense,” he murmured. “Thank you.”

She leaned down and placed a kiss on his shoulder. “My pleasure.” She kept rubbing, moving all the way down his legs to his feet. When she touched his toes and he jerked, she froze.

“Are you ticklish, Logan Gibson?”

“No. Not at all,” he answered a bit too quickly. He rolled over onto his right side, tucking his feet together under a pillow.

Amelia sent him a wicked grin. “I’ll have to file that away for later use.” When she started back up his legs, he rolled onto his back fully and reached for her. He tugged until she was resting on top of him. His hands slipped under her blouse to rub at the muscles of her back.

“I’ll bet I’m not the only one who could use a rubdown. Why don’t you strip down and I’ll return the favor?” He hit a sore spot, making her wince, and gentled his touch.

“That sounds like a good idea,” she admitted.

This time it was Logan’s turn to help her undress. He teased her a bit, but for the most part, kept the mood light. When she stretched out where he’d been, her head facing the fireplace, she sighed.

“Tell me if I’m using too much pressure,” he said softly as he warmed lotion between his hands.

Amelia groaned when he touched her shoulders. “No such thing.”

By the time he reached her feet, she was simultaneously relaxed and aroused. She rolled over to watch as he propped himself up against the pillows, then took her right foot in his hands. The bedroom was warm, thanks to the fire, and even though they were both naked, they weren’t cold.

When he started working the soreness out of her heel, she reached over to leisurely trace her fingers up and down his leg. “This is nice.”

He stilled, looking up at her with the same hard-to-describe expression from earlier. “Yeah, it is.” He put her foot down and crawled over her, settling half on top of her. He propped himself up on his left arm and, lifting her leg, drew it over his hip. He then ran his hand up her back and into her hair.

“I’ve never done this before,” he admitted. “Just enjoyed spending time with someone I was involved with. As bad as it sounds, it was always about the ultimate goal. Get in, get out, so to speak.”

Amelia traced the line of his collarbone. “I did notice the last time you were here just how easily you seemed to slip out of the house.”

He winced. “You were awake?”

She nodded. “As soon as you got out of bed.”

“Damn.”

“How does that usually work for you, in the long run, I mean?” she teased. “I can’t imagine it’s set you up for a follow-up date.”

Logan actually blushed. “Not often, no.” He sighed and rested his head against hers. “I don’t want you to think I’ve been some kind of… of male slut or something. There haven’t been that many women.”

Amelia studied him. He was truly uncomfortable. “I’m not sure I want to know, but I’ll ask. How many?”

“Seven.”

She was right—she didn’t want to know. “Does that include me?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

He pushed her hair back off her face and her shoulder, then ran his hand down her arm. “I can’t go back and undo it. I… I wish I could. If I had known I would meet you, I would have tried not to be so casual.”

Amelia read a lot, pretty much whatever she could get her hands on. And she knew seven wasn’t a tremendous number, not in this day and age. What she was having trouble with was believing that Logan hadn’t felt anything more than lust for the women.

“And you never got involved with any of them?”

He shook his head. “Not like I am with you. I mean, for the most part they weren’t one-night stands. And one or two… we dated for a couple of months.”

“When you say dated, do you mean went out to eat and to the movies, or do you mean sex?” she asked.

“Oh, God.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Mostly sex. I can just about count the number of times I spent the night on one hand. What we have here, it doesn’t come close to being the same thing that happened with them. It was fun, it felt good, it was stress relief, but the emotions… they weren’t there. There was no laughter or connection here,” he said, touching her chest. “And I didn’t trust them with myself. Please tell me you believe that.”

Amelia rose up and touched his cheek. She stared into his eyes, trying to figure out if she should listen to her gut or not. She let out a long breath. “I think I do,” she told him softly.

Logan kissed her. He didn’t try to seduce her, but the kiss was full of pent-up emotion that reached out and grabbed her tight. She pushed against his chest and he backed off. She kept pushing until he was lying on his back, and then she swung her leg across his hips until she was straddling his erection.

“Amelia…”

She raised her hips up and took him inside her slowly. Throwing her head back, she closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of him. His hands tightened on her hips, holding her firm against him. When the first rush of pleasure died down, she looked at him. “I love this. Having you here.”

Logan sat up, cradling her to his chest as she rocked her hips. “I love being here.”

They’d only ever made love like this once, with a slow, unhurried pace until the very end, when they both grew frantic. When she climaxed, she barely managed to hold back from telling him how much she loved him.

She couldn’t stop touching him, though, and Logan seemed to feel the same. They didn’t separate for a long time, and when they did, they quickly took care of the mess they’d made, then crawled under the covers to hold each other.

Much like their letters tended to, their conversation wandered from topic to topic, touching here and there on a host of subjects until Amelia was so sleepy she couldn’t hold her eyes open.

The last thing she felt as she drifted off was the press of Logan’s lips against her temple and the slide of his fingers as they laced into hers.