Southern Hospitality (21 page)

When the black 4 x 4 pulled into the clearing, Logan could barely suppress his groan of despair. It was going to be worse than he anticipated. Trevor wasn’t alone. He’d brought Curtiss back with him. There would be two irate brothers to deal with. After a quick word to Tom, he reluctantly walked toward the two men. Curtiss got out, waving Logan ahead of him into the vehicle.

No one spoke as Trevor backed out of the clearing and headed for the main road that traversed the lake. Sandwiched between the Planchet brothers, Logan knew what a condemned man felt like. He figured he didn’t have anything to lose, but was amazed his voice was level. “I suppose I should be grateful you haven’t had time to call in your truck driver friends.”

“She told you about that, did she?” Trevor didn’t take his eyes off the road, driving at a speed that would have disqualified any of the rally participants between stages. “I’m surprised. She thinks she can take care of herself, especially after she got rid of her fiancé, with a little help from a pitcher of beer.”

“Her fiancé?” Logan growled the two words, forgetting about making a defense against Midge’s statement. A tight knot settled in the pit of his stomach at the news that Tory had been engaged to another man. He wanted to take the unknown man by the scruff of his neck and throw him out of Tory’s life, although she’d already apparently sent him on his way.

“You don’t know about old Reed?” Curtiss asked, exchanging a surprised look with his brother.

“No,” Logan spat out the word. He didn’t think they needed to look so pleased about the news. Then he wondered what the Planchets intended when Trevor pulled off the road onto a dirt track. They drove on for about a mile, stopping near a stone bridge that arched over a stream that undoubtedly fed the nearby lake. Were they planning to hide his battered body here in this bucolic hideaway?

Neither Trevor nor Curtiss said a word. They climbed out of the vehicle, walked to the back, and opened the door. Logan’s view was restricted to the rear view mirror. They were discussing something and pointing behind the back seat. Trevor lifted something heavy, then looked up to meet Logan’s gaze in the mirror. He seemed surprised that the other man hadn’t moved.

“You do want to eat dinner, don’t you?” he asked as he handed the green-and-white cooler to his brother and tucked a blanket under his arm. “We’ve got another eight hours or so out here, so you’d better eat something.”

“I’m not sure I have any appetite,” Logan answered, but got out of the car anyway. By the time he joined the men at the edge of the stream, a picnic had been spread out on the flat rocks that flanked the water. Absently, he wondered if Tory had prepared the meal of cold chicken, marinated raw vegetables, and crusty rolls. “Exactly what happened to this Reed person?”

“Why do you want to know?” The assessing gleam was back in Trevor’s eyes—eyes that were so similar to his sister’s. He bit into a drumstick, but never took his gaze off Logan.

“Damn it, I love Tory.” The words came out of nowhere, echoing off the bluffs on the opposite side of the stream, and inside Logan’s brain. He knew his expression probably matched Curtiss’s and Trevor’s opened-mouth astonishment. Although he hadn’t realized his own feelings until that moment, Logan knew he was speaking the truth. There wasn’t another woman in the world like Tory Planchet, and she belonged to him.

“Hell, I was going to ask what your intentions were and you spoiled my big speech,” Trevor complained, doing his best to look put out by Logan’s bold announcement. He wiped his fingers on a paper napkin, frowning as he finished the task.

“That certainly put a damper on our plan. We rehearsed a great speech on the way over to pick you up. I was going to be the nice brother and Trevor was going to play the heavy, like good-cop-bad-cop,” Curtiss put in, then anxiously looked up at Logan through the fringe of his bangs. “You
are
serious, aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid so,” Logan answered, looking from one man to the other. He didn’t blame them for being skeptical.

“You’re a brave man. My sister is the most independent woman I know. There are two things that she doesn’t have any patience with, bossy men and Yankees.” Trevor shrugged philosophically and shared a commiserating look with his brother. “You’re batting zero to two in this ball game, Boston.”

“You don’t think I have a snowball’s chance of marrying your sister, then?”

“Let’s say I won’t put any money on you to win. Marriage doesn’t seem to be in her game plan,” Trevor continued, but not letting the discussion interfere with his dinner. Curtiss seemed content to let his older brother hold center stage, simply nodding his agreement and helping himself to another piece of chicken. “Bill of Fare has been her first priority since she gave Reed the old heave-ho six years ago. Besides, the Planchet track record hasn’t been very good.”

“You’ve lost me. What’s wrong with Planchet marriages? You and Sanders seem to be handling marriage fairly well.” Logan made a grab for the chicken before the other two cleaned the plate. His appetite had suddenly returned with the news that there weren’t any serious contenders in Tory’s life and hadn’t been for six years.

“It’s T.L. He’s only had one successful marriage out of three. Sander’s mother lasted about five years,” Curtiss explained hesitantly. “If Tory and Trevor’s mother hadn’t been killed in a car accident, I doubt if I’d have come along. T.L. only married my mother because he was lonely after
Miriam died. My mother walked out when I was three.”

“Personally, I’ve always found it encouraging that his one success was with Mother, but I’m not sure if Tory feels the same way.” Trevor handed Logan a soft drink before opening his own and taking a swig from the can. “Tory was at an impressionable age when Curtiss’s mother hit the road. Angela had been a poor substitute for us and T.L. She knew Daddy was still grieving, and they had some dandy screaming matches.”

“You might be right,” Logan said thoughtfully. Tory’s attitude toward marriage wasn’t exactly encouraging. Could Trevor be right? Was she avoiding marriage because of her childhood memories? It seemed pretty farfetched to him.

“As I said, you’re a brave man. Trying to get a commitment out of a bossy, stubborn woman like my sister is a monumental task.” Trevor stretched out and propped himself up with his elbows. Contemplating the beginning traces of the sunset above the trees, he continued, “Don’t get me wrong. I love my sister. Unfortunately, she’s not a restful woman. I prefer them a little more malleable and soft-spoken.”

“That’s the truth. Leeanne is much easier to live with,” Curtiss stated. “Someone like Tory would drive me crazy in about a week.”

“That’s part of her charm. She doesn’t hold back,”
even when she makes love,
he finished to himself, remembering her wholehearted lovemaking that night in Oklahoma. “You know, you’re both taking this very well. What happened to all that brotherly advice when you kept fiddling with your steak knife, Trevor?”

“I like you, and I think my sister is beginning to like you a little too much for her peace of mind. She’s letting this North/South nonsense cloud her judgment.”

“What do I do, change my birth certificate?”

“You might try being a little more southern,” Trevor decided, after a moment’s concentrated effort. He looked extremely proud of his inspiration. “I think she’s just using this Yankee nonsense as a smoke screen. She’s never been that rabid about the subject until you came along. That just proves you’re getting under her skin.”

“Women like all that attention if you hold doors open, pull out their chairs, and that stuff. I did that before Leeanne and I got married. Must have spent a fortune on flowers before I proposed, too.”

“All I have to do is get Tory to stand still long enough.” Logan didn’t bother to explain that the southern strategy had been tried without great success. He hoped Trevor was right, however, about Tory using their regional differences as a defense mechanism.

“Well, I know how you can get her attention for about a half hour,” Trevor volunteered. He began gathering up the remnants of their meal as he spoke. “If Curtiss and I play it right, you’ll be riding back to Little Rock with her after the rally.”

“Gentlemen, you’ll be my friends for life.”

“Don’t make any rash promises until after you talk to Tory,” he returned, giving him a look of masculine understanding. He’d been on the losing side of an argument with his sister once too often. “And whatever you do, don’t tell Tory we had this little talk.”

Logan nodded, but was silent on the way back to the control station, plotting how to handle the ride back to Little Rock. He had to convince Tory he was the man for her, the man who would have a permanent place in her life. Why hadn’t he realized he was in love sooner? He felt like a fool for not seeing the signs before this.

He’d known from the minute that he met her at the airport that Tory was different, but simply put it down to physical attraction. Everything she did fascinated him. He was frustrated every moment they were apart.

How did he convince a woman who wouldn’t have an affair that he loved her?
Excuse me, Tory, what I thought was simple lust turned out to be love.
Logan shook his head in disgust. He’d have to do much better than that, but what? He hadn’t done anything right since the moment he met her.

Suddenly, he wondered how the Herrington family had managed to survive over the last few hundred years. He’d been taught not to be overly emotional, to always appear calm and controlled in any circumstance. The Puritan strain ran deep. How did the Pilgrims manage to marry and produce children? Did they have secret hand signals or something to keep from making total idiots of themselves when they fell in love?

When the Planchet brothers dropped him off, he wondered how they were going maneuver Tory in driving him back to the city. But he decided he had enough problems of his own. They’d known her long enough to manage something, and he had to figure out how to overcome two hundred years of repression.

Tory slammed the door of her car. She’d left the motor running, ready to get her duty over as soon as possible. Leaning against the front fender, she glared at the group working to clean up the control site. Logan had his back to her as he kicked dirt over the last embers of the fire. She was sure he knew she was there and why. Neither Curtiss nor Trevor were very good actors. They’d been too astonished over forgetting to arrange a ride for Logan. Rather than let the painful performance continue, she volunteered, almost changing her mind when she saw the smug look that passed between her brothers.

What was going on here? After Midge’s little bombshell, her brothers conspiring with Logan certainly wasn’t what she expected. Then again, her life had been full of surprises lately. She hadn’t anticipated falling in love with Logan, either.

“Hey, Logan, looks like you won’t have to hitchhike back to Little Rock after all,” Tom Dantry called from where he was loading folding chairs into the back of his station wagon. He gave Tory a friendly wave before going back to work.

She waited with her arms crossed over her breasts, trying to pretend her heart was not in overdrive at the sight of his lean figure walking toward her. His long, jean encased legs ate up the ground between them much too quickly for her peace of mind. She’d had a long day and wasn’t ready for another confrontation, either mental or physical.

What was it about his expression that was different? Maybe it was the angle of her headlights, or was she imagining things after a long day? When he reached the front of the car, she jerked her head toward the passenger seat. Without bothering to see if he complied, she turned and got into the driver’s seat.

Logan joined her before she moved the gearshift into drive. She honked in farewell to the Dantrys, then executed a sweeping turn to head for the main road. At this hour of the night, she estimated she might reach Little Rock in about twenty minutes.

Logan was slumped down in his seat, not saying a word. Just as Tory began to speculate whether he’d fallen asleep, he rolled his head along the back of the seat to stare at her. She felt more than saw the flash of his smile in the dim interior of the car.

“You know I could get used to this,” he murmured. The softly-spoken words seemed to feather across the back of her neck before shivering down her spine.

“Get used to what?” she was forced to ask when he let the comment hang in the air. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel as she willed herself to ignore a growing sense of intimacy in the close confines of the car.

“I could get used to your chauffeuring me around from place to place,” he returned quietly, amusement underlying his words.

“Isn’t that a little chauvinistic?” Why was she whispering? If she just spoke in a normal tone, it would dispel the illusion they were the only two people in the world. The deserted road didn’t help matters. There wasn’t another car in sight along the highway, which wasn’t unexpected after midnight.

“Tell me about Reed, Tory.”

She was going to break the steering wheel in two, she was sure of it, gripping it even tighter. Her brothers had to have told him about Reed. Was that what was responsible for the difference she’d sensed in him earlier?

“You’d better slow down a little,” Logan suggested without seeming too upset by the speed they were traveling. “I don’t think you want to get a ticket or damage your new car.”

“It’s a rental. I never take one of our cars to a rally, too much gravel and dirt,” she commented, but lowered her speed to fifty-five. She hadn’t realized that she’d accelerated to twenty miles over the speed limit. It must have been his question about Reed.