Logan's Woman (3 page)

The town had everything, as small as
it was. There were two clothing stores, three hardware stores, a
vet that was
really
active even this late, and four different restaurants with a
laundry mat right next to it. On the other side of the restaurant,
was a better hotel than what she was staying at, and across the
street was hers.

Grimacing, she went into the diner and held her
purse tightly, not knowing what to do.

She’d never been anywhere but to restaurants
where waiters served her. There was no one to tell her where to
sit, or greet her. She had no one with her to help her with what to
do, and when every eye turned to her, she felt helpless.

And scared.

Actually, she was terrified. Claire had never
had to deal with something like this before. Feeling her cheeks
burn, she hesitantly walked into the diner and tried to ignore all
of the eyes that were watching her like she had her head cut
off.

While the diner itself was cute and welcoming,
it seemed the people were anything but. There were tables all over
the white and lime green tiled floors, and several booths set up
against walls that were lined with white and an almost unnoticeable
yellow stripped pattern.

The remaining sunlight that poured in from the
windows cast a golden glow into the room, accenting the yellows and
greens. She would have felt completely at peace here, if she had
known what to do and if people hadn’t been staring at
her.

At the back of diner, there was an open kitchen
and a bar set up at the counter. She decided that the safest bet
was to sit at the bar. It was a lot easier to evade company,
whereas at a table, it invited someone to sit with her. Stomach
tight, she sat at the bar and was wondering how to get their
attention when a woman, probably near the age of fifty, with dark
yet greying hair, popped up from the counter, smiling widely to the
new visitor.

“What can I get for you today, sweetie? Want to
start off with a drink?” she asked, taking pen and paper out of her
apron, ready to take her order.

Claire nodded, looking around for a type of
menu.

It appeared right in front of her face. Trying
to cover how awkward she felt, she gave the woman a small smile.
Her eyes flickered over the name tag she wore. Claire looked at the
menu for a second and said, “I’ll take a milk, please.”

Darla, as her name tag had read, smiled. “I’ll
be back with that in a jiffy. Just let me know when you’re ready to
order.”

Claire nodded at her and then went back to
looking at the menu. She already knew what she was going to get,
but had to give herself something to do so she didn’t feel so
awkward and out of place.

The bell to the diner ringed, signaling that
someone knew had entered. So out of place that she felt, paranoia
caused her to turn her head to see who had entered.

Her breath caught in her throat and she
regretted looking.

It was the man, the same one who had seen her
outside of the pharmacy. At first, he had a relaxed look about him.
He didn’t notice her staring. He came up to the bar, just several
seats down from where she was, and called out to Darla saying
hello.

Oh, good lord.

His voice.

It was deep and masculine and it sent shivers
down her back. She should have known that his voice would be as
great as his face...and body. She clenched her hands around the
menu to keep from showing how much his presence was affecting
her.

She kept silent, even as Darla come over to
greet him with Claire’s milk in her hand. “Here you go, honey. Did
you decide on what you wanted to get?”

Claire pointed at the menu, forcing
herself to ignore the sudden pair of eyes she felt on her back.
“Just the burger,” she said quietly, wishing she could sink under
the counter. His eyes on her, and the heat she could feel coming
from them, was doing a lot more than
affecting
her.

“Comin’ right up!” Darla said, smiling
widely.

“Thanks,” she murmured, fingering the strap of
her backpack and staring at the table, hoping it made Darla talk to
the man instead of her.

But, that didn’t happen.

Nope.

Instead, she talked to
both
of them.

“So, Logan, have you met Claire
yet?”

She started. How the heck had Darla known her
name?

“I haven’t,” he said shortly, taking a seat
three over from hers. It was intentional.

“She’s been the talk of the town ever since
that taxi dropped her off!” Darla chirped, patting Claire’s
hand.

Oh god. Did
every
one know everything? She could
have sworn that no one had seen her enter the hotel.

She rubbed a hand over her face, beginning to
think coming here had been a horrible idea. These people were way
too close-nit for her.

“Well, tell us your last name,” the woman
coaxed, leaning over the counter on her elbows. Even though Claire
couldn’t see the man, she was aware enough to know that he was
barely paying attention, choosing instead to reach over the counter
and pour himself a cup of coffee.

“Claire Brady,” she said, a lie. She hadn’t
been aware she’d told anyone her real name, or anything about her
for that matter, but she would remember to be vague about her
identity. She was surprised that some of these people didn’t know
who she was, but that wasn’t a problem for her at all. Who would
recognize a supposed dead woman, anyways?

All she really hoped was that they didn’t
notice she was lying. Claire had never been a liar, and she felt
horrible doing it now.

Even though it was necessary...

Darla grinned at her. “Claire Brady, meet Logan
Marshal. I’m Darla Pedersen and my husband and I own this diner. We
live just down the block from here.”

Claire smiled at her. “That’s
wonderful. I like that atmosphere in here, it’s very warm.” In all
honesty, she didn’t know what to say. She only had a few friends,
and those were her father’s friend’s children. When she talked to
other people, it was at formal gatherings and she was required to
smile, give compliments, and look glamorous by her father. It had
never bothered her before, but now that she was out in the open,
where normal people were, she had no clue how to act, and now
it
did
bother
her.

Darla smiled wider, obviously pleased by the
compliment.

“You are such a sweetheart! Anyways, have you
met Logan yet?”

Her eyes flickered over to the huge man and the
image of him staring at her like he was entranced came to her
mind.

Just then, he turned and looked at her. She
didn’t expect the annoyance that entered his eyes, or the warning.
He obviously didn’t want her mentioning anything.

Claire shook her head, looking away from
him.

“I’ll introduce you to now, then! Claire, this
is Logan Marshal. He owns the Marshal Ranch down the road from
here. He used to be a marine and he’s really quite --”

“Darla,” he said in warning. The deepness of
his voice made her shiver despite herself.

“Sorry, sorry,” she laughed, turning around to
grab the ready burger that was sitting on the kitchen counter,
right above the sinks. She put it in front of Claire and smiled.
“It’s on the house. We welcome new visitors here. Consider it a
welcoming gift.”

Claire looked at her, shocked. “Oh, no, it’s
okay. I can pay for it -- I won’t be here for long, just a couple
of weeks, maybe a month or two.”

“Well that’s long enough for me! It’s on the
house, and don’t argue,” she said sternly, pointing her pen at
Claire. Smiling yet feeling awkward, Claire took a bite and tried
to it so the woman left her alone. Claire liked her, she was nice,
but the point of coming out here hadn’t been to make new friends
and gain attention.

“So where are you staying?” Darla asked,
unaware that Claire was desperate for her to leave, or maybe she
knew but chose to ignore it. Everyone here seemed so nosy. Claire
swallowed and answered out of politeness.

“That hotel across the street --”

Darla gasped, making her stop.

“What?” she asked, taking another bite of her
sandwich. It was hard not to make a mess; she was so hungry she
could have inhaled it.

“Why on earth...there is a cheaper hotel across
the street and it’s in much better condition!” Darla said,
obviously shocked at Claire’s choice.

Claire shrugged, unable to explain her reasons
for picking a run-down hotel with a creep for an owner.

“Have you met Gerry then?” her curious friend
asked, a frown marring her aging face.

She grimaced, and felt Logan’s eyes go over her
face. She looked at him head-on, lips pressed, not knowing what to
say.

Just then, she was aware of the whole entire
diner listening in on her conversation. She dropped Logan’s eyes,
face pink. She took one more bite and set the sandwich down,
grabbing her backpack.

“I have to go now -- thank you so much for the
sandwich. I’ll make sure to stop in next time for a bite.” That was
a straight lie. She wasn’t leaving her hotel room at all, except to
get the things she needed.

Then she was done exploring and drawing
attention.

“You only took two bites!” she exclaimed,
standing up from the counter. “At least let me get you a to-go
box.”

Claire waited while she grabbed one,
picking at the strap to her backpack. Logan was
still
staring at her and it was harder
to ignore it. He commanded attention, and it was
enthralling.

She trained her eyes on the ground,
only looking up when Darla came back with a Styrofoam box in her
hand. Claire put the sandwich in and then started to move toward
the door, anxious to get away. Her life had changed, and she was
having a hard time adjusting to it. She didn’t know how to hold
conversation with a normal person, and while she was used to the
attention she gained at her father’s parties, she was
not
used to the blatantly
judgeful stares she was getting from the people sitting around
her.

Everyone was nice to her, where she was from.
She never slipped up, she was always kind and thoughtful of other
people, and the old ladies adored her. If you were good with the
old people, you were good for everyone else. Because like it or
not, they held the power.

She pushed open the door and the bell
chimed.

It had gotten darker outside, she noticed as
she started to walk to the store she had been at. She had yet to
pick up her pillows and she refused to sleep on the gross hotel
ones. They were thin and hard and fakely sterile-smelling. Even
smelling about it made her stomach hurt.

Claire held onto her backpack straps tightly as
she crossed the street, trying to hurry and dreading going back to
the hotel where Gerry was.

---------------------------------------------

“Can you believe that she’s staying at that rat
hole? With that nasty Gerry there?!”

Logan listened to Darla rant and had to agree
with her disgust. Even he didn’t like the thought of a woman
staying here. It was the place that druggies and thugs went when
they couldn’t afford normal rent. There had been many times where
the town was woken up by police sirens because of that hotel, and
Gerry had a record for going after young women who wanted nothing
to do with him.

There had also been a close call with a girl
who had lived here a couple years ago. He hadn’t taken the hint and
had stalked her. Later, when she suddenly disappeared, it was
rumored that he’d attacked her and she had moved to a different
state. He never mentioned it to anyone and no one asked. But, that
same year, everyone began locking their doors at night and making
sure their children were in before dark.

Logan himself had a collection of shotguns, and
even though they weren’t reserved for Gerry, he was prepared to use
one should the little creep come onto his property without
permission.

He wasn’t biased or conceited in the least, but
he knew that Gerry was scared of him. Almost everyone was. They
thought he was a loose cannon and he was perfectly fine with that.
If the people in this town left him alone, all the
better.

Darla hit his arm lightly, drawing his
attention. Her eyes were lit up with an inner glow that made him
frown. “I know what we could do!” she said excitedly, rapping her
pen on the table as she thought.

“What do you mean.” Logan really didn’t want to
know.

“Well, I was thinkin’ that maybe you could
offer to let her stay with you so she doesn’t have to stay with
that pervert Gerry! Did you see her face? I bet he’d already tried
going after him.”

Darla was pretty much like his mother had been.
She was old, short, and so sweet she could beat candy canes in a
competition. But sometimes, her ideas were ludicrous.