The Rancher's Wife. April Arrington
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She scanned the papers, each glimpse of blank space tightening her chest to the point of pain. Her fingers flipped up the corner of each page with a more violent flourish than the one before.
“If you’re looking for my signature, you’re not gonna find it.”
Her head shot up. Logan stood in the doorway, his wide shoulders and lean length obscuring the exit. His grin widened into a firm curve, sparking his dark eyes with intent.
“Not now. Not ever,” he said. “I never break my word.”
Amy’s breath caught. This was the Logan she knew. A bold, decisive man. One who never faltered once his mind was set on something.
He stepped into the hallway, tossing over his shoulder. “Go on and lock up. We need to start back soon. Before the storm hits.”
The papers cracked in Amy’s hand, crimping into a wrinkled heap before she dropped them to the desk. She stared ahead blankly, listening to the heavy tread of Logan’s boots and the bell chiming on his exit.
The room was empty, her rapid breathing the only sound. Amy lifted her hand and slipped her fingers beneath the collar of her sweater to tug the silver necklace out. It dug into the back of her neck as she threaded her finger through the ring hanging from it. The weight of the silver band was familiar and comforting.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Only a few minutes with Logan and she’d reverted to old sins. She’d lost control, lashed out and goaded him into action.
The dig of the necklace turned painful, her finger straining to reclaim the ring. Amy gritted her teeth, slid the ring off her finger and shoved the necklace back beneath the cover of her sweater.
There was no way she was slipping back into old habits. Always trailing after Logan, begging for whatever attention he deigned to throw her way. What she’d felt for him all those years ago had been exactly what he’d called it. Ill-begotten hero worship. Nothing but a young girl’s ridiculous fantasy. Something cynical–Logan would never deliver.
No. She’d come too far and worked hard to change. No way would she ever be that selfish girl again. She’d gotten over her obsession with him long ago.
Amy jerked open a drawer, yanked out her purse and shoved the wad of papers deep inside. This wasn’t ending here. Like it or not, Logan was signing that agreement. And they were both going to shed the past and begin new lives.
She made her way through the lobby, flicked off the lights and hovered by the window. The gray clouds grew thicker and the furious sweep of leaves through the parking lot whispered to a halt. Small white pellets plummeted from the sky in scattered patterns, slamming into the concrete and pinging against the glass pane.
Logan stood at the foot of his truck. Eyes fixed on hers, he crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest and leaned back against the tailgate. He didn’t shiver or waver. Just stood there. A solid pillar of heat in the freezing onslaught of ice, not heeding its vicious bite.
Amy clenched her jaw. A sharp ache throbbed in her head at the tight press of her teeth. There was no need to rush. No need to try to outrun the storm. It had already hit.
He’d come on too strong. Had pushed Amy too hard.
Logan shifted to a more comfortable position in the truck’s cab and eased his foot off the accelerator. He glanced to his right, finding Amy in the same position she’d adopted an hour ago. Perfect poise, legs crossed at the ankles and eyes straight ahead. Her hands shook in her lap.
“Cold?” He stretched over to cut the heat up and angle the vent toward her.
“No. I’m fine, thanks.”
She didn’t look it. The closer they got to the ranch, the tenser she became.
“How much longer?” Traci asked from the backseat, removing her earbuds. “I’m getting stiff.”
Traci rearranged her long length in the back of the cab, stretching her legs out to prop her boots on the console. Logan’s mouth twitched at the sight of the muddied heels. A few clumps of dirt dropped from them, tumbling into the front seat by his jean-clad thigh.
He eyed her in the rearview mirror. “You got two floorboards back there, Traci.”
“And a lotta leg,” she drawled, raising her voice above the deep throb of music from her cell phone. “I’m starving. We haven’t missed dinner, have we?”
Logan shook his head. “Nope. We’re right on time. Not much farther now.”
Traci stuck the earbuds back in, settled against the seat and closed her eyes.
Logan faced the road again and they traveled in silence for a couple of miles before he glanced at Amy. The brash glow of the low-hanging sun flooded the cab and highlighted the pinstripes in her pantsuit. Her black hair was pulled up, giving him a clear view of her pale cheeks and blank expression.
Logan opened his mouth to speak but shut it quickly. He used to be able to talk to Amy about anything. Never even gave a thought to what he would say. Knew she’d be as eager for his thoughts as he’d always been for hers. But over the past twenty-four hours, he’d discovered that even though they were no longer separated by miles of road, a distance still remained between them. One he had no idea how to cross.
“Is dinner still at six?” Amy’s green eyes flicked to the clock on the dashboard.
“Yeah. Betty runs a tight ship.” It was almost 5:30 p.m. They’d cut it close. “We’ll make it.”
Barely. Despite his best attempts last night, they’d been unable to start home before the storm hit. Instead, the ice fell fast once they’d arrived at Amy’s apartment and by the time he’d loaded Amy’s bags in his truck, the roads were too slick to drive on. They decided it would be best to spend the night and start back in the morning after the ice began to melt. Traci had slept in the guest room and Logan had slept on the living room couch.
He winced and rubbed the kink in the back of his neck. Or better yet, he’d tried his damnedest to sleep. It’d been hard to do with his legs dangling off one end of the sofa and his head the other. It didn’t help matters that Amy’s bedroom had been only a few feet away. He’d heard the rustle of sheets every time she’d tossed and turned. Apparently, she hadn’t been able to sleep either.
He rolled his shoulders and tightened his hold on the steering wheel. At least they were almost home now rather than holed up in that suffocating apartment. It’d been obvious that Amy had already begun preparing for her move to Michigan. The stacks of boxes lining the living room walls had glared at him from the moment he’d entered. He’d done his best to ignore them but they’d loomed over him all night.
Logan’s mouth twisted. No wonder sleep had eluded him. He hated this. Hated how quickly he’d become fixated on Amy again. How every thought running through his mind centered on her and excluded common sense. It made him feel weak. Vulnerable.
“Tell me about Dominic.”
He turned his head to find Amy studying him. Those emerald eyes traveled slowly over his face and lingered on his mouth, warming his cheeks. Her lips trembled slightly.
She looked away, asking, “Who did he marry?”
“Her name’s Cissy. He met her one night on his way back to Raintree. She was stranded by the side of the road with her nephews.”
“Are those the twins Traci mentioned?”
He nodded. “Cissy’s sister died early last year and the twins’ father didn’t want them. Cissy took the boys in but had a hard time providing for them. Dom brought the three of them to the ranch and we set her up with a job.” A smile stretched his cheeks. “Dom fell hard for her. He loves those boys, too.” He released a low laugh. “We all do. They’re great kids, Amy.