The Rancher's Wife. April Arrington
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a little faster.
“My Pearl loved the snow,” the man mumbled. His jubilant expression melted away. “We almost had some here last Christmas.” Gnarled fingers struggled to fasten the top button at his neck.
“Here. Let me.” Logan tucked his heel against the door and gingerly threaded the button through its hole.
“Almost...” the man whispered, his gray eyes lifting.
Logan stilled. It was impossible to count the regrets haunting the depths of his gaze. They pooled in the corners of his eyes, seeping into the crow’s-feet and coating his white lashes.
Almost. Logan had almost not come today. Was no more than two thoughts away from calling the trip off when he finally twisted the key in the ignition and allowed his truck to haul him from his ranch.
And, after arriving, he’d almost left. Empty-handed, but with a heart crammed full of a thousand more regrets than he already carried.
Logan straightened, renewing his hold on the door. Almost be damned. He wasn’t leaving until he did what he’d come here to do. What he should’ve done a long time ago.
He wasn’t leaving until he saw his wife. And he wasn’t leaving until she left with him.
The man’s eyes still hovered on him. Logan summoned up a polite smile.
“Thank you, son,” the elderly man said, shrugging further into his coat and edging out. “Yes, siree. Just a few degrees...”
The arctic blast receded as the door closed and Logan returned to his chair by the exit. He pressed his palm against the thick fold of papers stuffed inside the pocket of his jeans. They cracked under the pressure of his touch, shooting chills through him.
The massive grandfather clock in the corner sounded the five o’clock hour, doling out bellows and chimes. Each lilt of the bells pierced his ears and dropped into the hollow of his gut.
“How much longer do we have to sit here?”
Logan jerked his head to the side. The teenager beside him slumped further into a crumpled heap on the wide lobby chair. A thick hood obscured her face.
“Please sit up, Traci,” he said.
“This is stupid.” The hood shifted with her grumble. “Why can’t we wait at her apartment?”
Logan shifted in his seat, heat spiking up his neck. “We’re in public.” He clenched his teeth, his knee bouncing with agitated jerks. “Sit up, please.”
The hood dropped back. Emerald eyes flashed up at him. Eyes the same shade as those of her older sister, Amy. His wife.
Logan snatched in a breath. Dear God, Traci reminded him of Amy. Made it impossible for him to forget how much he missed her or how much he’d failed her. As a husband and a friend.
Amy had been his best friend long before she’d been his wife. That was how it should’ve remained. He’d never wanted to jeopardize their friendship by clouding it with lust. But that was exactly what he’d allowed to happen. When he found out she was pregnant, the only option he was willing to consider was marriage. And damned if that wasn’t exactly what Amy had planned on.
“I can show you where her apartment is, you know?” Traci smiled. “It’s not that far. Only five or ten miles.”
Logan ducked his head and dragged a hand through his hair, the searing heat engulfing his face. He didn’t need directions to Amy’s apartment. He’d memorized her address four years ago. One day after she left.
He’d spent each morning counting the miles between them and each night adding more hours to her silent absence. The simple fact was, she’d never issued him an invitation to visit.
Logan had known better than to expect it. Amy had always been stubborn. Still, he’d hoped time would work its magic. Help her heal and bring her around to reaching out to him.
And she had finally reached out. But in a different way entirely.
Logan’s fist clenched. His knuckles dug deep into the denim covering his thigh, driving a dent in the packet of papers filling his pocket. He wished he hadn’t signed for them. Wished he hadn’t taken the manila envelope from the mail carrier’s hands, opened it and read them. Wished this ice storm would’ve changed direction and missed Georgia altogether.
Then, he wouldn’t have been forced to leave Raintree and make the six-hour drive to Augusta. He could’ve continued to remain on the ranch, reminding himself why things were better left alone.
“We’re waiting here,” Logan muttered through stiff lips.
“But the apartment complex is right down the road.” Traci perked up, straightening and sliding to the edge of her seat. “It’s next door to a coffee shop and there’s a rec room in the main hall that has a pool table. We could get a latte and shoot a round or two while we wait for her.” Her slim hand latched on to his forearm, voice rising. “They have a sub place, too, if you’re not in the mood for coffee.” Her nose wrinkled. “It’s different in the city. It’s not like back at the ranch. Everything’s right around the corner. You can find anything you want.”
Yeah. He could find anything he wanted here. Anything except the friendship he’d once shared with Amy. The only place he had any hope of resurrecting that was back at their childhood home. At Raintree Ranch, the memories were rich. They grew out of the ground and wrapped around you on the wind.
“No,” he said. “We’re waiting for Amy here.”
Amy. Logan’s mouth tightened. His wife. His best friend. Alone. Hundreds of miles away from her family.
No doubt she could hold her own in a big city full of strangers. Otherwise, he never would’ve agreed to her decision to leave four years ago.
At the time, he’d thought it was for the best. A chance for her to experience life somewhere else. Shake the depression she’d fallen under after the loss of their daughter. Learn and grow. Mature into a woman who knew the value of honesty and loyalty. Then, she’d choose to come back. Only, she hadn’t come back.
Logan sighed. He just needed to get Amy home. Back to her family. The sooner they returned to Raintree Ranch, the better.
“It’s not a big deal,” Traci continued. “Amy won’t mind if we wait for her at the apartment. She told me I could use it whenever Mama and I visited. Even if she wasn’t there.” Her eyebrows rose. “It’s better than sitting here—”
“I said, no.”
“You heard that man. It’s gonna sleet. The sign says they close at five and it’s five,” she stressed. “There’s no one here but us now. She’s not coming and if we’re not going to her apartment, we’re better off leaving without her. Before it sleets and we get stuck here. Let’s head back now.”
“I said no.” Logan shot her a firm look. “Now, that’s the end of it.”
Traci released her death grip on his forearm and flopped back in an indignant heap. “I swear, if I miss Mama’s turkey and dressing tomorrow, I’ll never forgive you, Logan.” Her lip curled. “Never.”
Logan tensed and cast his eyes up to trace the popcorn patterned ceiling. Teenagers. Any other day Traci wouldn’t utter two syllables strung together. Today, though, the endless chatter had begun the second the kid jumped into his truck insisting she take the trip with him. It had continued in a never-ending stream since.
Logan shot to his feet. “Wait here.” Taking swift steps to the reception desk, he tossed over his shoulder. “Quietly.”
A rough exhalation was her only response. Thank God.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” He placed his hands flat on the reception desk to still the tremors running through them.
The young receptionist looked up, smiled and eased closer to the counter.
“Your