Caught Up in the Touch (24 page)
He couldn’t let it end like this. Cutting the truck off, he slid out and slammed his door shut. Like a wild animal hearing the crack of a rifle, she changed direction, heading for the magnolia tree at the side of the house. She ducked out of sight under the branches. He followed, rain-wet grass clinging and itchy on his bare feet. It would serve him right to step smack-dab in the middle of an anthill.
“Dammit, Jessie, where’d you go?” He parted branches, raindrops pelting him from the glossy, cupped leaves. Taking a deep breath, he tried to soften his tone, but his voice still sounded too harsh. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She stepped out, next to a closed bloom, droplets glimmering on the creamy white petals. Rolling her eyes, she said, “I’m not scared of you.”
“Not of me maybe, but of us?”
Her face blanked of emotion, and he wanted to taunt or shake or kiss some feeling back into her—even anger was better than indifference. Instead, he rubbed his nape with one hand while the other ran through his hair.
“You don’t think I understand how you’re feeling?”
“No, I don’t,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Let’s see … this thing between us is moving too fast, it’s too intense. You’re terrified I’ll hurt you. Everything you thought you knew about where you belong, where your life was headed, has been shot to hell and back.” He ticked the points off on his fingers. “Am I close?”
“You’re crazy, Mountain Man.” The quaver in her voice ruined her attempt at sounding unaffected.
He cupped her neck and ran his thumb along her lips, dropping his forehead to hers. He waited for her to shove him away, and when she didn’t, he stepped blind and fearful onto a foreign path. “You don’t think I’m right there with you? My life was flipped on its ass yesterday, but you stuck right there with me. Last night was not just about sex for me. You”—he swallowed—“the way I feel about you scares the hell out of me.”
She breathed his name before pressing her face into his neck, her purse and shoes still between them.
“You don’t have to give me all your secrets right now, darlin’. But when you do, I’ll handle them with care. I promise.”
She nodded, her lips moving against his skin in a pseudo-caress that sent a shiver down his spine to between his legs.
“I need some time to think, to assimilate what’s going on.” Her voice was muffled against his neck.
He wanted to say “No,” afraid she’d decide the wisest, easiest course of action would be to hightail it back to Richmond. Pulling away, he stared into her eyes. Something painful lurked inside of her, tied to the patterned scars on her hip. But if she wasn’t ready to tell him, he’d trust in her like she’d trusted in his innocence.
“Sure thing. But stick around, okay? And call me later?”
“I still don’t have a phone.”
“Borrow Lilliana’s. Call me.”
She nodded. Before he could give in to the impulse to kiss her, he retreated to his truck and drove away, his gaze on the rearview mirror until she was out of sight.
“Fine. We had sex. Now will you stop fishing?” Jessica asked shortly.
Lilliana pumped the brakes hard and looked over with her mouth hanging open.
“You’re going to catch flies like that.” Jessica repeated one of her ma-maw’s favorite sayings and turned toward the passenger window before she allowed a small smile.
“I knew it,” Lilliana whispered.
Adaline’s came into view, and her Audi was the only car in the lot. Not that she expected to see Logan’s truck this early, but the throb of disappointment surprised her. Lilliana pulled in next to her car and flicked the doors to locked. Jessica unsuccessfully tried the handle.
Lilliana twisted in her seat. “Not until you give me some dirt.”
Jessica huffed with a combination of amusement and annoyance. While she generally guarded her private life like a Doberman, she trusted Lilliana.
“It was as you might expect.” A shadow of the passion of their encounter had her squirming. “Freaking incredible. His chest is phenomenal and his abs are to die for and my God, his—”
Lilliana “la-la-la-ed” and stuck her fingers in her ears. “I don’t want specifics about Logan’s you-know-what. Are you in love? Are you going to move to Falcon?”
The questions shocked Jessica into silence. One bout of mind-blowing sex—well, technically two—didn’t have anything to do with love or building a real, lasting relationship. Yet it hadn’t just been sex for her either. Her heart constricted, then shot into overdrive.
Jessica pulled in a shuddery breath and whispered, “We barely know each other.”
Even as she said the words, she knew them to be false. Perhaps they hadn’t known each other for long, but she knew Logan Wilde. Knew his fears and demons, understood his struggles, because they were so similar to her own. But their lives were messy. Logan had the steroid accusations hanging over him while she had too many secrets—the truth behind her scars, Logan’s father’s manipulation. It was the worst possible time to think about a relationship.
“Look, I’m not suggesting you elope. Just wondering if you’re going to give Logan—and Falcon—a chance.”
Jessica kept her gaze down, her hands clutching her knees, afraid Lilliana would press for more than she was willing to admit. “I like Logan. He’s been really nice to me.”
“You deserve someone who’s really nice to you.”
Jessica raised her face at Lilliana’s decisive statement. Her dark, soulful eyes were serious and sincere, but mischievousness lilted in her voice as she continued. “But if Logan is ever an asshole, you let me know, and I’ll gig him like a poor old bullfrog.”
A small laugh helped push Jessica’s uncertainty about her future to the side. Logan had agreed to give her time, and she would spend it making a pros and cons list about taking their relationship further. Hopefully, that would clarify matters for her. “What about you? Any likely prospects in Falcon? What about stirring things up with Alec Grayson?”
“That is a road I don’t want to travel again.” Lilliana slumped back in the seat and picked at a cuticle. “But I’m not going to lie, it has been a depressingly long time since I’ve been laid.”
“How long?”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten what a man’s you-know-what looks like, much less what to do with it. Even if a casual hook-up was my style—which it isn’t—Aunt Esmerelda and the entirety of the Falcon First Baptist choir would know all about it by Sunday church. Anyway, the last thing I need is a relationship to manage on top of the house. What viable option does that leave?”
“A vibrator?”
A fit of laughter overtook them. Lilliana unlocked the doors, and Jessica, still giggling, slid out and dug through her purse for her keys.
From Adaline’s she drove downtown and parked at one end of Main Street. She strolled toward the library. Ms. Marlene stood in the open door of her salon on the other side of the street and waved like a beauty queen. “Jessica! You come in soon to catch up. Your hair is looking fabulous.”
Jessica ruffled the waves on top, finally beginning to own her new look. “Thanks! I’ll be by soon. Promise.”
Ms. Marlene disappeared into her domain of hairspray and gossip. Farther down the street, Jessica stopped in front of Wilson’s Antiques. A beautiful mahogany sink-stand sat a few feet back from the cluttered display at the window. She cupped her hands around her eyes and pressed them against the glass to get a better look. It would be the perfect start for the remodel of the fifties-style bathroom at Lilliana’s.
A blond-haired man popped up from behind a dresser, screwdriver in hand. Their gazes met, and she pulled back, startled. Whitey. The bell over the door tinkled.
Whitey nodded a greeting and scuffed a black motorcycle boot along a weed-filled crack in the sidewalk. “How’s our man holding up?”
Our man.
She almost popped out with a defensive “How would I know.” Instead, she said, “He wants to help Scott and Hunter, but doesn’t know how. And some people around town are dredging up his past.”
She met his gaze, his icy blue eyes too old for his body. “Yep, I feel him. Sometimes I want to chuck it all and move somewhere else. Somewhere no one knows me. I’m sure Logan’s felt like that more than once lately.”
The thought of Logan away from Falcon went against the universe’s laws of nature, disrupting gravity and making her feel suddenly light-headed and nervous. “What keeps you here?”
Whitey pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and shook one out, but instead of lighting it, he only twirled it in his fingers. “People like Logan. Robbie Dalton. Old Henry Wilson.” He thumbed behind him toward the store. “You need people who understand where you came from but can see your future and not just your past.”
The wisdom of his words burrowed into her chest. Something inside of her had fundamentally shifted. She couldn’t pinpoint what, but a portion of her confusion and fear eased. “You’re pretty smart, Whitey. Except you shouldn’t smoke.”
He held the cigarette up at eye level and smiled. “By the way, my real name’s Jeremy.”
She nodded. “Thanks for everything, Jeremy.”
He lifted his chin in male acknowledgment and slipped back inside the antique store. Jessica turned around and looked up and down Main Street, her blinders removed. She had been in danger of idealizing Falcon. Life here wasn’t perfect, but did that make the town less or more appealing?
Stephanie Larkin clip-clopped toward her in sling-back heels and big, stylish sunglasses. Jessica tensed, but Mrs. Larkin tossed the door open to the store next door. Without putting much thought into her actions, Jessica followed her into the boutique.
* * *
Logan ambled toward the library, running his fingers along a crack in the bricks. The crack had been there since Logan could remember, no wider or longer. He made eye contact with the mother of one of his former players, but she turned away without acknowledging his wave. He fisted his hand and shoved it into his front pocket. Logan was less than six feet away when he noticed Ben Larkin standing in the shadows of a column at the entrance to the bank.
Ben didn’t utter a word, but his gaze promised retaliation for Logan’s supposed crime against his son. Denials were useless, so Logan kept his head down and lengthened his stride. His phone buzzed before he made it to the front steps of the library.
Jessie.
He answered in record time. “Thank God you called.”
A beat of silence before a male voice said, “I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting such an enthusiastic response.”
Logan pulled the phone away to check the screen and mouthed a silent curse. Richmond, VA. “My apologies, Mr. Montgomery. Thought you were someone else.”
“My daughter, perhaps?”
“No, my preacher,” Logan said, regaining a modicum of his humor. “Is there something I can help you with, sir?”
A chuff came from the other end. “Jessica hasn’t been returning my emails and I have no way to get ahold of her. Thought I’d give you a shot. Work is piling up on her desk.”
“I thought she quit?”
“More like a leave of absence.”
Logan’s stomach swooped. Was she punishing her father by marking time in Falcon? He picked at the paint-peeled rail at the front of the library. “I’m not sure she wants to go back to Montgomery Industries.”
The man’s laugh mocked him. “Please, Mr. Wilde, what kind of opportunity does she have to shine in Falcon? She has brilliant instincts for business. She’ll be unstoppable in a few years.” Over the phone, it was difficult to discern whether the admiration in Reginald Montgomery’s voice was real or feigned. Logan was silent.
Montgomery continued. “I heard about your spat of trouble, Mr. Wilde.”
“How?” The question popped out, clipped and defensive.
Montgomery ignored him. “My offer still stands if you want to leave all that behind you. Start fresh in a bustling city. More opportunities in Atlanta for you … and for my daughter.”
Logan looked around him. In that moment, the anonymity of Atlanta was disturbingly appealing. And, Jessica … what did she want?
“Can I think on it?” The question fell from his numb lips.
“Of course. I’ll await your decision.” The man’s voice lilted with poorly suppressed triumph. “And please tell Jessica to get in touch. Her mother worries.” The call disconnected.
One of the city council members came out of the bank, glanced in Logan’s direction, and crossed the street. Jaywalked no less. Sides were being chosen, his guilt or innocence debated over coffee at The Diner.
When he was a teenager, every disapproving, tsking look from the town elders was a satisfying jab at his father. If he could time-travel back fifteen years, what would he say to his former self? The way he felt right now, he was more apt to punch himself in the face than dispense wisdom.
Cursing under his breath, he took the steps to the research room in the Falcon library two at a time. He knocked on the doorjamb and pushed the partially cracked door open with his foot. “Hey, ladies.”
Miss Jane and Darcy looked up from the local newspaper.
“Well, speak of the devil,” Miss Jane said.
Logan looked over his shoulder before turning back with a forced, teasing grin. It’s what they expected of him. “I know you can’t be referring to me.” He took one of Miss Jane’s hands and bussed her cheek.
“Darcy and I were just discussing your little problem.”
A headache throbbed at the base of his skull. “Lord, don’t tell me I’ve made the paper. What’s the headline?
Local Man Fulfills His Youthful Lack of Promise?
”
Darcy rolled her eyes. “Larkin pushed for a special closed-door school board meeting and got Scott reinstated to the team. Robbie was furious.”
“Damn, that was quick.”
Miss Jane’s voice was full of warnings. “Don’t underestimate Larkin’s reach. Besides being CEO of the bank, he garners favors from men who remember his college-playing days.”
“Miss Jane and I were speculating on whether Ben might be the one shooting his son up.”
“I sure hope that isn’t the case,” Logan said heavily. Certainly, Ben could be pressuring his son into taking the drugs. Logan knew from experience shitty parents existed and even thrived.