Crazy Little Thing Called Love (11 page)

“I've got an extra helmet—see? One for me, one for you. I like speed, but I'm not gonna hit the asphalt with my head if some driver doesn't see me. When you ride with me, you'll be safe.”

Vanessa tilted her head to the side, her gaze going from him to the helmet and back again. “Sure.” Her smile, which lit up her brown eyes, was the reward for all the waiting. “Sounds fun.”

Logan hooked her backpack onto his bike with a pair of worn bungee cords and then helped her with the tricky helmet buckle, aware of how close they stood to each other. Vanessa smelled of something floral. Sweet.

“This thing going to stay on?” Vanessa's voice had a breathless quality. She kept her arms crossed over her waist, her sandaled foot tapping the asphalt.

“My sister wears it all the time.”

“Your sister?”

“Yeah—Caron. She's a sophomore.”

“You don't give her a ride home from school?”

“No, usually I have to be at work right after school. But I'm good today.”

And if Vanessa Hollister wanted a ride home from school from here on out, he'd talk to his boss about changing his hours. Today he had already asked another worker to cover his shift—just in case Vanessa said yes.

He backed up, rapping his knuckles twice on the helmet, unable to hold back a grin at the glint of another smile in her eyes behind the visor. “You're all set. I'll climb on first and hold the bike steady while you climb on behind me.”

Vanessa nodded, and a few moments after he straddled the bike it shifted beneath her weight. She didn't touch him, leaving plenty of space between their bodies. And without looking back, he'd bet she was gripping the sides of the seat, too. He couldn't blame her. They knew each other's names. Shared a couple of classes together. But if he handled things right, maybe things would change. All he had to do was give her a good, safe ride home so she'd say yes when he offered her a ride again tomorrow.

He wouldn't confess to gunning it just a bit when he pulled out of the parking lot. But Vanessa slid closer, her hands gripping his waist. Once again, since he was facing forward, his face covered by his helmet, she couldn't see him smiling.

•  •  •

Vanessa shifted the small stack of books in her arms, following Mindy to their Honors English class.

“What did you think of last night's assignment?”

“I'm not crazy about Shakespeare, but—” Mindy clutched her arm. “Here comes Logan Hollister!”

“So?” Vanessa shook off Mindy's hand, wishing her friend would lower her voice. That she'd calm down. It was just Logan. He'd say hi. She'd say hi. No big deal.

He wore jeans and his black boots, a gray T-shirt that revealed his strong, tanned arms.

“Hey, Mindy.” He nodded to the other girl and then gave Vanessa a smile that made her want to stop right there in the hallway and just watch him walk the rest of the way down the hall. Or maybe skip class and go wherever he was going. “Hey, Vanessa. See you after school, right?”

“Yes. Sure.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd. And Mindy was grabbing her arm again. And giggling. She could only hope Logan didn't hear how ridiculous her friend sounded.

“Stop it!” Vanessa double-timed it down the hallway.

“Oh, my gosh! Logan Hollister likes you!”

“We're just friends, Mindy.”

Her comment only made Mindy laugh harder. “Sure you are. Have you seen Logan giving any other girl a ride home on his motorcycle?”

No. No, she hadn't. And that realization made her slow her steps.

“You want to date him, don't you?”

Did she want to date him?

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? Vanessa, are you out of your mind? Do you know how many girls want to date Logan Hollister? I mean, look at him! That whole leather jacket, long hair, bad boy look—and yet, he's nice.”

“He is, isn't he?” Vanessa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean, I've never dated a guy with long hair before—not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just that I was on the swim team before, and I went out with one of the guys on the team. They tend to keep their hair short, if not completely shaved.”

Okay, now she was babbling—and that had to stop because the bell was ringing and they'd just made it to class.

By afternoon, the questions began again—because Vanessa hadn't figured on Logan giving her a ride home from school becoming an after-school routine.

But she liked it—more and more every day.

As he started the motorcycle, Vanessa slid in closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. He glanced over his shoulder. “All set?”

She nodded, knowing the helmet muffled her words. “Yep. I'm ready.”

She could tell by the way his eyes narrowed that he was smiling at her, and he gave her hand a quick squeeze before easing the bike out of the parking space. He kept his speed low as he watched for students walking to their cars. Once they got to John Sims Parkway, he'd gun the motor just a bit, an unspoken signal for her to hold on, to rest her head against his back and enjoy the too-short ride home.

Vanessa needed to admit it to somebody—if only to herself—that she was getting used to Logan Hollister waiting by her locker every day after school. It had only been a week, but still, she liked seeing him leaning up against the wall, wearing his jeans torn at the knees, his black boots, his hair skimming his shoulders.

The first few days she tried to convince herself that his “Hey, Hollister, have a good day?” was enough. Just Logan being friendly to the new girl. But every day he asked her if she wanted a ride home. And every day she said yes, ignoring the little voice warning her that her parents wouldn't like her hopping on the back of Logan's motorcycle. But her parents' disapproval was no reason to tell Logan no. Her mom was picking up her little brother from middle school, and her dad? Well, he never got home from work before seven.

And what would her father say? She wouldn't date Logan just to annoy her father, would she? That would be mean . . . and Logan had been awfully nice, taking her home from school.

She liked having a friend—well, two friends, if she counted Mindy. And she did. In the past she'd be in the pool every afternoon, hanging with all the girls on the swim team. No real conversations, since she spent most of the time in the water, swimming laps. But the thought of coming in as the new girl to an established team . . . no, thank you.

This wasn't the senior year she'd imagined—or the one she'd been promised.

Make the best of it, her mother said. So far, Logan Hollister was the best thing to happen to her since she rode into town with her mom, right behind the U-Haul van.

The most called-upon prerequisite of a friend is an accessible ear.

—MAYA ANGELOU (1928–2014), AUTHOR AND POET

S
he was a coward.

Vanessa gripped the balcony railing, inhaling the morning breeze that brushed her hair away from her face. Golden sunlight dappled the waves along the beach. Dozens of sandpipers ran back and forth along the sand, while an occasional jogger ran past the couples out for an early morning stroll.

And here she stood, on the balcony of her hotel room, acting as if she was afraid Logan might appear on the beach again.

Because he might.

Vanessa ran her palm along the smooth metal edge of the railing. Which one of the hotels bordering the beach was Logan staying at? What if they were at the same hotel? What if she went down to the lobby for breakfast and ran into her ex-husband again? But if she stayed in her room, then she was tempted to keep reading her journal—and doing that only pulled her into the past. Their past.

She banged her fist on the railing. Maybe she should call the airport and book a ticket on the first flight back to Denver.

But that would only prove she was a quitter. She'd leave Florida with nothing done for the wedding except having secured Mindy as matron of honor—and handing the wedding to-do list over to her. Seeing Logan for less than five minutes was not going to stop her from marrying Ted.

Vanessa turned her back on the view of the beach, returning to her room and retrieving her cell phone. Nine o'clock here, which meant it was eight in Montana—but surely Rylan was awake. She'd check on her father, then change out of her pajamas, brave the hotel's breakfast area, and force herself to walk the shoreline. She was not going to live her life afraid of Logan Hollister. She hadn't done so for the past eight years. She wasn't going to start now.

“Hey, Rylan, I hope I didn't wake you. I wanted to check on Dad.”

“No, I've been up for a couple of hours—already had my run. Sitting here having coffee with Mom and Dad.” Her brother sounded cheerful—too cheerful. “Say good morning to them.”

“Hello, Vanessa.” Her mother's voice was calm—no surprise there. “How are the wedding plans coming along?”

“Just fine, Mom, but I called to see how Dad was.”

“Everything is just fine here. Don't worry about us. Rylan leaves tomorrow to head back to Germany, and then we'll settle back into our routine.”

“Good. How's Dad feeling?”

“Oh, you know your father. He doesn't like change. Doesn't like the way I'm cooking his food now. Says it's bland. Let me have him talk to you.”

Vanessa waited as her mother handed the phone off to her father. It sounded as if he grumbled about talking to her before he took the phone.

“Hello, Vanessa.” Her father's voice sounded flat. Monotone.

“Good morning, Dad. How are you feeling?”

“I'm fine. I wish everyone would stop fussing.”

“Dad, you did just have a heart attack.”

“I'm fine.” But even his protest was weak at best.

“Are you taking your medicine?”

“Of course I'm taking my medicine—don't need it, but I'm taking it. And your mother is making me walk back and forth to the mailbox twice a day, too.”

“Well, good for you.” Vanessa paused for a moment. Had anyone spoken to her parents about depression following a heart attack? “Dad, I really didn't get to see you very much when I came out after your heart attack. Would it be okay if I adjusted my trip and came back by? I have lots of unused vacation—”

“No need to do that. We'll see you for the holidays—or the wedding.”

“Are you sure? I don't mind—”

“No use wasting your vacation to come see me.” Her father cleared his throat. “I'm going to finish my breakfast now—although I don't know why. Your mother is feeding me oatmeal. Here's your brother.”

Vanessa choked back a laugh. “Okay, Dad. Love you.”

Rylan's voice replied, “Love you, too, Vanessa.”

“Sure you do.” Vanessa paced the room from the bathroom back to the sliding glass doors. “Can you tell me what's going on? I mean, besides Dad not wanting to eat oatmeal?”

“Yeah. I'm in the living room. Dad's fine physically. I mean, he's tired. But he just seems down. He sleeps a lot. When he's awake, he watches TV. Reruns of
Bonanza
.”

“He's probably depressed, Rylan.”

“Dad? Are you kidding me?”

“A heart attack is a scary thing. And while he's recovering physically, I don't know if his doctor has talked to him and Mom about the emotional and mental recovery.”

“I hadn't thought about that.”

“I'm not sure what we can do. He's not going to let his kids talk to him about how he's feeling. I mean, he's the dad, right?”

“Right.” There was a few seconds of silence on the phone. “He's not supposed to see the doctor for another month. I head back to Germany tomorrow, but I'm here now. I'll see what I can do. I mean, maybe I can figure out a way to talk to him about how he's feeling.”

When had her little brother grown up—and what was he doing, being so mature? So brave?

“Will you let me know how things go?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, Rylan.”

“No problem. We're family, even if we are spread out all over the world right now. Talk to you later.”

That settled it. If Rylan could dare to talk to their father about his feelings, she could stop acting like a recluse and go eat breakfast. And then walk on the beach. She'd work her way up to it by showering and getting dressed. And she'd call Mindy, too—see if she wanted to talk about the wedding. But first . . . she removed her old journal from the bedside table, pulled her suitcase out of the closet, and tossed the leather-bound book inside, zipping it shut.