Willow Spring (28 page)

Walking back to where Amy sat, he lowered himself down onto the bench beside her. “So,” he said quietly, “you want to tell me what that was about back there?”

She sat silent for a long moment, and he could sense her thinking through what she wanted to say, maybe gearing up for it. He didn’t rush her—he wanted them to be totally straight with each other.

And finally she said, “Did it ever occur to you that if you wanted things to feel normal today that maybe inviting both Anna and me was going to make that difficult?”

“Yeah, sure it did. But I couldn’t exactly leave either one of you out. And to be honest, I expected you both to be big enough to rise above the awkwardness of the situation and act like adults. I thought it would
create
some normalcy.”

Next to him, she only sighed, looking unmoved by what he’d thought was a pretty rational, reasonable statement. “Well then, did it occur to you that if you wanted things to feel normal that maybe rubbing sunscreen on her back while the two of you whisper and giggle might not be the best idea? Unless you only wanted to make it normal for everyone but me. And me you wanted to make feel like an idiot.”

Logan just blinked. And suffered a little guilt. Even if he didn’t understand the idiot part. “I . . . couldn’t really say no, could I? And the timing was bad—I had no idea you were about to come back up on the dock. But I’m sorry. Sorry you saw that.”

“Well, I’m sorry
you’re
so inconsiderate.”

Damn, this felt like yet another new side of Amy. Not mean, but . . . not so soft and sweet, either. And
had
he been inconsiderate? He hadn’t
meant
to, but . . . aw hell, he hadn’t known how to handle any of this from the beginning and he obviously still didn’t.

“Or . . . or maybe you don’t realize how I feel, Logan,” she went on. “I mean, I thought I’d made it clear enough without having to come right out and say it. But maybe I was wrong about that. So fine, I’ll spell things out.

“The night you let her pull you away from me at the carnival, that about ripped my heart out. And just now, to find you rubbing her back that way—it hurt me more than I can say to see . . . that apparently she wins and I lose. And the reason it hurts so bad is because I love you, Logan. And not just like a friend anymore. I love you with everything in me, with all that I am. And I’m afraid I always will. So there. Now you know.”

Nineteen

“I will tell you truths while I can.”

Jane Austen, from
Emma

L
ogan just sat there, dumbfounded, as her words hit him like a brick. Because . . . yeah, he knew Amy had serious feelings for him—he knew instinctively that Amy would
have
to have serious feelings about anyone before she’d sleep with them. But . . . love? Like being
in
love? With all that she was? That was a mental leap he hadn’t quite made. And it caught him off guard, big time.

“Please say something,” she said, her voice gone soft, sweet. Back to being the docile girl he knew.

“No, I didn’t quite realize you felt that way,” he said, still trying to wrap his brain around it.

She looked up at him, clearly stumped. “Didn’t you read the notes? Back when I was your stupid secret admirer?”

The reminder took him back to how it had felt to find out it was her. How it had been shocking and yet . . . had made him happy. “First of all, you weren’t stupid. You were sweet as hell. And yeah, of course I read them, but . . . I guess I thought they were exaggerated, for effect. Or something.”

Next to him, she peered down toward her bare feet, crossed at the ankles. “No. No exaggeration. They embarrassed me, but everything in them was . . . completely true, completely real. And now I’m humiliated.”

Logan still felt like he’d somehow walked into this relationship in the middle of it, like he didn’t know things he was supposed to. “I don’t get that part. Why are you humiliated? Why would you feel like an idiot?”

She let out a sigh he felt in his gut and said, “Because you want her, not me.”

He just blinked, then crossed his arms, still trying to understand where she was getting this stuff. “What on earth gave you
that
idea?”

Which was when Amy lifted her gaze to his, now looking incredulous. “How about the rubbing of her back?”

He let his eyes go wide, realizing what a leap in thought she’d made from what was real to what she was imagining. “She asked me to,” he explained, feeling defensive.

“Did she ask you to whisper and flirt, too?”

Now it was Logan who let out a breath. He suddenly felt a little less defensible. “Okay, yeah, I was whispering. And flirting.” Only he knew he had to explain better. He just wasn’t used to this, to owing anyone answers for how he behaved with members of the opposite sex. “But you know what? That’s all it was. Whispering. And flirting. It . . . it means less than you probably imagine.” The fact was, those moments with Anna had been easy, because that had become the prevailing nature of his relationship with her—flirting. And it was something he knew how to do, something he was good at. This more serious stuff going on with Amy—hell,
that
he was new at and didn’t know how to pull off.

“It does?” she asked, peeking up cautiously. Her eyes struck him as wide, pretty, in the dusky light that had fallen over the lake.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice coming out a little softer than planned. It was something about the way she was looking at him. Maybe . . . maybe now that he knew she loved him, really loved him, maybe he felt it coming through her eyes. And maybe he felt it sinking down inside him to someplace warm and comfortable.

“Wh-what does it mean then?”

Logan stopped, sighed, tried to think how to explain. “Maybe just that I’m better at flirting with a girl than . . . being real with her. You know I haven’t had many serious relationships.”

She nodded.

“And on the flip side, I’m good at being real with you. About most things anyway. But I’m not sure I’m very good at being real with you about . . . love. I don’t even know if I’ve ever
been
in love, freckles.”

“Then you haven’t,” she said without hesitation. “Because when you’re in it, you know it.”

“What does it feel like?”

“It’s . . . the best, most awful feeling in the world. It fills you up. But it also owns you. Makes you feel a little helpless against it.”

“Wow,” he said, thinking it actually sounded pretty scary and was something he’d much rather push from his mind than explore.

“So, with Anna . . . what you feel for her isn’t serious?”

He shook his head. “I wanted it to be. But . . . there’s just something missing.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry . . . sorry I was so awful to her.” She hung her head, looking appropriately guilty. “I don’t know what got into me.”

He gave his head a tilt, tried for a smile. “I think I do. It’s called jealousy. And I’m sorry I was . . . careless and inconsiderate. I didn’t mean to make you feel at odds with her, and when I invited you both, I guess I didn’t think through it very clearly. I tried to think it was simple, would be easy and fun. But I guess, no matter how you slice it, it’s more complicated than that.”

She nodded, and he knew without either of them saying it that they both forgave each other. For what had happened today. And maybe for a lot of things.

“I’ll find her tomorrow and apologize,” she said. Then she sighed. “And I’ll need to apologize to Mike, too, and . . . well, pretty much everyone. I’m sorry I ruined your party, Logan.”

But he just shook his head. “Like I said, I didn’t think through it enough, so part of it was definitely my fault, too.”

They stayed quiet for a few minutes, simply soaking in the night, he supposed, or maybe trying to figure out what was next between them, when Amy said, “You know, if you really want to create some normalcy, for yourself and this whole town, you could just go back to work at—”

“Don’t say it, freckles,” he cut her off. “I already have a job.”

“You’re a horrible bartender.”

He could only sigh. “I know. But I’m getting better.”

“Says who?”

“Anita. Sometimes.” He stared out over the water, rethinking a recent conversation he’d had with his new boss on the topic. “But maybe she’s just being nice,” he concluded honestly. “She says I cut people off too early, that I’m too worried about them driving drunk.”

“That’s a good thing,” Amy pointed out.

Logan had thought so, too. He guessed it was just in his blood to try to protect people a little. “Not if you’re a bar owner, I guess.”

“Well, we both know what you
should
be doing.”

He just slanted her yet another look. “Amy. Don’t go there.”

“Fine, I won’t. But we both know.”

Damn it, she just wouldn’t quit on that. But he held his tongue, not wanting to fight with her anymore—and this time he cast a look of warning that at least shut her up on the subject.

But she rolled her eyes at him anyway.

A few minutes later, Amy looked past him to the western sky, and said, “So pretty.”

He turned to see it, too, and took in the deepening pinks and purples above the jagged silhouette of hills and trees surrounding the lake. “Yeah,” he agreed.

They observed the dramatic sunset in silence for a minute until an old song by the Climax Blues Band came on the radio, the first line about a guy who hadn’t had a care when he was a younger man. Logan thought it could very well describe
him
. There’d been a time—a long time—when he hadn’t
needed
to have a care. But now . . . hell, he did. He’d seen people die. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with the rest of his life and he needed to figure it out. His mother was getting older. His friends were all starting new phases of their lives—while he was flailing around in an old one that suddenly felt . . . stale, used up.

And one of his best friends for his whole life was in love with him. And she was the sweetest person he’d ever known, even if she’d made a mistake a little while ago. And she looked so damn pretty sitting here next to him, pretty and . . . kissable.

As the romantic song went on, about love changing the guy’s life, Logan reached out and took Amy’s hand in his.

It made her shift her eyes to his, and his gaze dropped to her lips, which appeared darker in color to him than usual, maybe from the dim lighting, or maybe they’d been pinkened by the sun today, same as her cheeks. But the main thing he noticed about her lips just now was that he wanted to kiss them—and so he didn’t hesitate. He bent toward her and pressed his mouth to hers. And when she kissed him back . . . damn, maybe he kept forgetting—maybe even choosing to forget—how good it felt, how easy it was to kiss her. Yeah, it had been a little awkward at first, all things considered, but not anymore.

He didn’t even have to think as one kiss melted into another, and another—it was that easy. He just let his urges guide him. And before he knew it, they were quietly, wordlessly, sinking onto the floor of the boat together.

The move landed them out from under the pontoon’s awning, which covered only the rear half of the boat, and lying on her back beneath him, Amy peered up past him to whisper, “The stars are already coming out. Nights are so beautiful here.”

And it reminded him of being on that ferris wheel with Anna, how he’d mentioned the stars to her—and he realized all the more that he should have been riding it with Amy. And how Amy loved Destiny as much as him. And how intertwined their lives were in so many ways that he’d just never even thought about before.

“
You’re
beautiful,” he told her. Pushing a lock of hair from her face, he realized how true that was. And it wasn’t about makeup—because she wasn’t wearing any—or the bikini she had on. She was just beautiful in ways he’d never noticed until very recently.

The way her green eyes sparkled when she laughed, and how in awe she looked right now of something as simple as the sky. Her mouth, which he’d discovered was perfect for kissing, and the freckles that dotted her cheeks and cute little nose. The smile that always showed in her eyes. The
love
that shone in her eyes as she gazed up at him right now.

He kissed her again, caressing her slender neck, letting his fingertips drift downward onto her chest.

“I wish I’d ridden the ferris wheel with you, Amy,” he told her. “I’m sorry about that.”

“You already apologized, and it’s okay. And besides, right now, I’d rather think about what’s right between us than what’s gone wrong.”

The thought brought a small smile to his face as he told her, “Good idea.”

And as his cock hardened in his swim trunks—from everything about her in this moment—he knew he wanted her again, right here, right now, under the stars in the middle of Blue Valley Lake. He didn’t know how things were going to end up between them, but that didn’t matter—suddenly all that mattered was reconnecting with her in a deeper way than mere words allowed.

Fueled by fresh desire, he didn’t hesitate to slide his palm down over her breast through her bikini top in a tender caress that he felt as profoundly as he hoped she did. The soft moan that erupted from her throat pleased him, stiffening his erection a little more. Yeah, there were still times when it surprised him to realize he and Amy were like this now, but it escalated his excitement, too. To know her in this way no one else did. To see a side of her she’d kept hidden. To know he was the one who brought it out of her.

When her nipple jutted into his palm, a low groan escaped his throat, and he needed more, now. Suddenly thankful she wore so little, he reached deftly up behind her neck and pulled the yellow string there, loosening the top enough that he could easily slip his hand inside. She let out a sexy breath as his touch closed over her bared breast—and God, it made him impatient, made him want to rush.

But stop, slow down. Take your time. Enjoy this. Enjoy her. Enjoy how fresh and special and good this new connection between you is.

So he took a deep breath and kissed her some more as he fondled the soft mound of flesh in his hand, as he ran his thumb over the beaded tip. Her arms circled his neck, tightening as she kissed him without reserve, and he knew she was indeed as excited as him. “How did I never notice,” he heard himself whisper near her lips, “how hot you are?”

He liked how pleased she looked, and how confident, as she murmured back, “Some guys are just slow to catch on, I guess.”

He grinned, thinking every guy in Destiny had been slow to catch on about Amy and feeling damn lucky he was the first to have smartened up. With her help, of course. “Thank God you sent me those notes, honey,” he told her. And then he bent to lower his mouth over the same breast he’d been caressing at the exact second he moved his touch south, easing it boldly into her bikini bottoms.

Her light gasp was like sweet music to his ears, just before she said, her voice hot and breathy, “Yeah, thank God.”

“You feel so good,” he told her, his fingers sinking into the moist crevice between her legs.

She was breathing so hard now that it seemed difficult for her to get words out. “You . . . too.” And then—wow—Amy got aggressive. Reaching down, she closed her hand over his ass and pulled him closer, and he was realizing how he must feel against her thigh when she managed to say, “So hard.”