Two Times as Hot (18 page)

 

For the first time in the past month, Logan walked into the rehabilitation facility
that had become his father’s home with a spring in his step. He knew it wasn’t from
the old cowboy boots he’d taken to wearing again now that he wasn’t at campus and
in combat boots every day.

His energetic pace was all due to Emma showing up out of the blue. That was as unexpected
and as welcome as a cool breeze on a hot summer day.

Logan pushed through the doorway of his father’s room and stopped dead mid-step. His
father was standing. One shaky hand was braced on the back of the wheelchair supporting
his weight, but he was standing on his own two feet nonetheless.

“Dad?”

His father turned at the sound of Logan’s voice, and that upset his delicate balance.
He pitched forward, grasping for the chair with the hand on the side most affected
by the stroke. It was useless in preventing his fall, and Logan felt just as useless
as he reached for his father.

“No. I can do it.” The older man tried to push Logan away.

With a hand beneath each of his father’s arms bearing all his weight, Logan had to
disagree with his father. “Not right now, you can’t. You’ve done enough. You have
to rest.”

The only reason the man wasn’t lying flat on the floor, with a few less teeth, was
because Logan supported him.

His mother walked through the door just as Logan attempted to single-handedly get
his father into the wheelchair. How did the nurses make it look so easy? Some of them
weighed far less than Logan did and yet they moved patients bigger than his father
all day long and made it look almost effortless.

“What happened?” She rushed into the room, putting the water pitcher down on the bed
tray as she passed it.

“I found him in here standing up.” Logan glanced at his mother. “Since when can he
stand on his own?”

“Since yesterday.” She unlocked the wheels of the chair and moved it to behind his
father. “He walked a few steps with his physical therapist on those parallel bar things.”

“That’s great.” Logan meant what he said, but it didn’t relieve his main concern.
“But that doesn’t mean he’s able to walk, alone, on his own with no bars or nurse
for support.”

He’d said the last while looking at his father. Logan knew him well enough to know
the man would push his body so hard and fast, he’d end up doing harm.

“Have to get better.” His father’s speech had improved dramatically. Another good
sign.

Logan would be happy if he stuck to just practicing speaking for now.
That
he could practice all day long without risk of doing bodily damage.

“You will get better, dear. It takes time.” His mother smiled. “But you’re improving
every day.”

“No. Now.” His father’s zeroed in on Logan.

The look was so intense, Logan got the feeling there was more going on here than just
the older man’s stubborn willfulness. “Dad, I’m staying here to help you and Mom for
the summer. I don’t have to go back to Stillwater until right before the fall semester
starts.”

“Then sell?” The words were stilted from the stroke, but not the meaning or the concern
behind them.

That was it. His father didn’t want the store sold. Through all of this, Logan had
never sat down with his father to discuss the future of Hunt’s. Sure, he’d talked
about it with Layne and their mother. Hell, it seemed as if he’d had the discussions
with everyone, including Tuck and Tyler. Everyone except his father.

In Logan’s defense, that had been to protect the man. He needed to concentrate on
recovering, not worry about the shop. But meanwhile, worry had been eating him up
inside. That was obvious now.

Logan pulled a chair over close to the wheelchair. He sat so they could talk eye-to-eye.
“Maybe not, Dad.”

His speech might be affected, but his father still managed a derogatory snort.

Logan’s mom rested one hand on the back of the wheelchair. “I can help. I did used
to work there too sometimes, you know.”

“I know, Mom. I remember. Tuck had an idea. I haven’t acted on it yet, but I think
it’s a good one. He thinks some of your friends at the VFW would help us out. He might
be right. Most of the time, they sit around the bar and complain how their wives drive
them nuts at home.” Logan shrugged. “Maybe they’d enjoy a day or two a week at the
shop.”

A slow nod from his father told Logan he liked the idea, though he wasn’t so sure
of the reaction to this next part. His father hated change. “And Becca’s sister is
in town. Remember Becca, Dad? Tuck’s new wife? Well, her sister, Emma, works in advertising
or something in New York, and she’s offered to design a few new signs for us to help
spruce up the shop. It can’t hurt, right?”

Another nod followed. Logan breathed a sigh of relief.

His mother squatted next to the chair and took his father’s good hand in both of hers.
“See, honey. We’ll make it work somehow. The store will be there, waiting for you
when you’re recovered.”

Logan only hoped his father would recover enough to be able to enjoy it. But as he
watched the scene before him, his mom’s devotion, his father using what little strength
he had to cling to her hands, it hit Logan how hugely important they were to each
other.

His father, as debilitated as he was right now, had something Logan didn’t have—a
wife who’d been totally dedicated to him for forty-five years. Yes, he had two sons
here to help when he needed them most, but just as Layne had left to go back to his
responsibilities, so would Logan soon.

Logan had let forty years pass him by without finding the kind of love his parents
had. He’d been so focused on his career, he never bothered looking too hard for it,
always thinking there’d be time later. He should know better. Military or civilian,
no one knew when his or her time would run out. His father was the perfect example
of that.

It was past time for Logan to correct the situation. And maybe he wouldn’t have to
look very far, either. It was possible his love was right there—at least for the next
two weeks.

Would Emma consider a serious relationship with a man half a country away? Could they
get serious enough that maybe she wouldn’t want it to be long-distance anymore? It
would have to be Emma who moved. Logan couldn’t relocate right now. Not only was he
stationed in Oklahoma, but his family was here, and they needed him close now more
than ever.

It was a lot to ask her, to move to Oklahoma for him, but her sister was here. That
was a point in his favor . . . And what the hell was he doing, jumping to all these
conclusions? Talk about putting the cart before the horse.

He had two weeks to determine if the reason he shook like a schoolboy every time he
saw Emma was love or lust. Two weeks for them both to get to know each other a whole
lot better, and not just in bed. It was all he had. It would have to be long enough.

Wars had been won and lost in less time. Hearts, too. Logan knew he was well on the
way to losing his already. He had been since that one fateful weekend when life had
stepped in, knocked the happiness he’d found with Emma aside, and demanded all he
had.

It was time to take it back.

T
he air inside the dimly lit VFW swirled with thick smoke. It took Logan aback when
he walked in. No wonder his mother always knew when his father had stopped by here
on his way home from the store. His clothing would have reeked of smoke.

Logan guessed that even if no one was smoking inside, the building itself would still
retain the odor. The wood paneled walls would probably ooze the combined remnants
of all the cigarettes, pipes, and cigars smoked inside it for over fifty years. Good
thing it was a warm night and someone had propped the door open so there would be
some fresh air coming in.

The moment Logan walked through that open door, Mack the bartender spotted him. “Logan
Hunt! About damn time you came and joined us old guys here.”

Grumbling by the older members about how today’s servicemen didn’t bother with veterans’
organizations and how things were different in the old days was a constant. Looking
around, Logan had to admit the old guys probably had a point. The age of the patrons
made Logan the youngest in the room by at least thirty years.

“It’s a bit of a haul to drive here from Stillwater just for a beer.” Logan pulled
out an empty barstool and took a seat between two vets he’d known for years.

“Yeah, well, while you’re here visiting your parents, I expect to see you around once
in a while.” Mack continued to wipe down the ancient wooden bar top with his rag.

Harry O’Neil swiveled on his barstool toward Logan. “How’s your dad doing?”

Logan turned to the old man to his right and shrugged. “Good days and bad, but we’re
hopeful. He’s progressing in the right direction, so that’s positive.”

Harry adjusted the baseball hat he wore. The embroidered insignia named the vessel
he’d served on in Korea. “Good to hear. Send him my best.”

“Will do.” Logan nodded. “That’s what I came to talk to you all about. My dad. More
specifically, his store . . .”

As Mack poured him a beer, and the rest of the men seated at the bar listened, Logan
explained what he hoped would be a viable plan to keep the store up and running after
he left for Stillwater, and while his father continued to recuperate.

When he’d finished, Harry leaned in to slap Logan on the shoulder. “Of course, we’ll
help you out in the store. Your father has been a member here for as long as I can
remember.”

“And since Harry’s been here since at least the Civil War, that’s saying something.”
Rod, a Vietnam-era air force veteran, snorted at his own joke, then pushed his empty
beer mug across the bar. “Another one here, Mack.”

“You need another?” Mack eyed Logan’s mug as his hand grabbed the empty one from Rod.

“I shouldn’t. I wanted to get back to the shop and finish up some stuff tonight.”

Harry let out a wheeze sounding like half laugh, half cough, and Logan began to fear
for his health thanks to all this second-hand smoke. “Whatever it is will wait. Do
it tomorrow. Have a drink with us tonight. You young kids never come in here. Act
like we’re just a bunch of dinosaurs. Well, I’ll tell you something, kid. You could
learn a lot from us old-timers.”

Logan was sure he could. And it didn’t hurt to be called a kid, since lately Logan
had been feeling every bit of his thirty-nine and three-quarters years.

“All right. One more. But then I’m going.” Logan could walk home from here if he felt
he needed to after drinking the beer.

It would be a hike, but that was fine. He’d been real lax in his PT since he’d been
here. He could use the exercise. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had left their
vehicle in the parking lot overnight and came back to get it in the morning.

That was the beauty of living in a small town—places were close. People, too. He realized
that as the night progressed. Rod demanded he buy Logan’s beer for him. Then Harry
insisted Logan tell them all about Layne’s visit home, and Mack wanted to hear more
about Logan’s position at OSU.

It seemed Logan’s dad spent the majority of his time at the VFW talking about him
and Layne. Or maybe boasting was a better way to describe it. Either way, his dad
had told the old guys all about Logan and Layne—their military service and their lives
while they were away from their hometown. The man was obviously very proud of his
two sons. It was something Logan hadn’t realized, but something he wouldn’t soon forget.

It was late by the time Logan navigated his truck through the dark deserted streets
to his parents’ house. He’d drunk a couple of beers. Then stayed even longer, sipping
on pop and listening to the vets tell war stories from their own eras. Before Logan
knew it, it was past his usual bedtime. Who knew the old guys had such staying power?
He’d always assumed they’d all be in bed by the end of the evening news, when here
it was after eleven and he had just left them.

He put on his signal, about to pull into the driveway, when the truck parked next
door in the Jenkins driveway had him slamming on the brakes.

“Son of a bitch.” Logan stared at it, not believing what he saw. But there it was,
as living proof. Jace was there. In the house where Emma was staying. In the middle
of the damn night.

What the hell was Jace doing at the Jenkins house so late?

Moving in on Emma while Logan wasn’t looking was the most likely answer. Jealousy
hit Logan like a fist in the gut. Emma had been with Logan today. Had made love to
him. He tried to remember that fact as it felt as if a vise was being clamped around
his chest.

What could he do? It was too late to go over and knock on the door. That was for sure.
But it was also late enough, and dark enough, for some reconnaissance.

Realizing that having his truck idling in the middle of the road was not the best
way to be invisible, he pulled into the driveway. He cut the lights and engine, and
got out, closing the door as silently as he could manage.

Logan cursed his cowboy boots for making his footsteps sound even louder as he tried
to move, quickly and quietly, across the driveway and to the back door of the Jenkins’
house.

What he was looking to find, he wasn’t quite sure. As long as it wasn’t Emma and Jace
snuggled up together, necking like a couple of teenagers, he’d be good. Just the thought
twisted his gut.

Like a ninja, Logan crouched low and crept toward the back of the house. There was
one light on inside, and it was in the kitchen. It was crazy, but he had to look.
Had to see what was happening, even if what he saw might make him ill.

At six-foot-two, Logan figured he’d be able to see inside while standing on the ground
if he stretched. He moved closer to the window, giving himself a pep talk as his heart
thundered. He’d deal with whatever he discovered, even if Jace and Emma were together
in there.

Logan would fight for her. Jace had been his competition for Emma’s attention from
the day he’d met her, but Logan had been the one she’d left with after the wedding.

With that resolve made, Logan put one hand on the windowsill and rose onto his toes
. . . and saw an empty room. The illumination had come from a small light inside the
hood above the stove. Mrs. Jenkins must have left it on as a nightlight in case her
houseguests got up in the middle of the night and wanted something from the kitchen.

Logan blew out a breath and tried to calm the pounding in his chest. Emma was probably
snug in bed, sound asleep. That still didn’t explain the presence of Jace’s truck
in the drive at this late hour, but Logan would have to find out the answer to that
in the morning. He turned, about to head home and to bed himself when a dark shape
blocked his path.

“Logan?” Tuck’s voice came through the darkness. “What the hell? You okay? Your dad
okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Crap. How could he explain being here? “Where are you coming from?”

“Elk City. Rodeo with Jace.” As Tuck moved closer, Logan could see the gear bag in
his hand.

They’d been at a rodeo. Of course. Logan should have thought of that. Jace hadn’t
been here with Emma at all. That revelation was an unbelievable relief.

The sound of a truck starting in the driveway caught Logan’s attention. “That Jace
leaving now?”

“Yeah, he’s got a job to do early in the morning in Stillwater. Besides, he’s so wired
from all the energy drinks he downed tonight, he’ll have no trouble driving the couple
of hours back.”

Another relief added to Logan’s growing list. Jace was leaving, not crashing here
for the night where he would wake up to Emma at the breakfast table.

“So, what are you doing creeping around in the dark outside my house at this hour?
You’re usually not such a night owl.”

“Actually, I just got home from the VFW. You were right. The guys are willing to help
us out.” Logan motioned toward the window, hoping his diversionary tactic worked.
“When I saw the light on, I thought you might be up. I came by so I could tell you
thanks for the suggestion.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad.” Tuck delivered a nod, and shifted his bag from one
hand to the other.

So far, so good. Maybe Tuck did believe Logan’s bullshit excuse.

“And I’m sure your interest in thanking me in the middle of the night has nothing
to do with the fact my new sister-in-law is here for a visit.”

Or maybe not
.

Speechless, Logan considered how to sidestep that accusation.

“It’s okay, Logan. I get it. I started acting like a fool the minute I saw Becca.
Must be something in that New York water. Makes the women from there irresistible
to us guys here in the Midwest.”

Logan laughed and gave up his attempt to deny Tuck was right. “Could be.”

“So how about you come over bright and early in the morning for breakfast? You can
pass on the good news about the old guys helping out at the shop. I’m sure my parents
and Becca and Emma would all love to see you.”

“I don’t want to intrude—”

“Jesus, Logan.” Tuck interrupted Logan’s halfhearted protest. “We were in each other’s
houses as much as we were in our own growing up. Emma’s being here doesn’t change
that, and I know you want to see her, so just cut the crap and come over.”

“All right.” Logan couldn’t fight it. Tuck was right, so Logan gave in and tried to
preserve what was left of his dignity. “Thanks.”

Tuck shook his head. “No problem. Can I go in and shower now, so I can get to bed?
I smell like bull and there’s a sweet thing inside waiting on me.”

“Of course. Go.” Words couldn’t express how envious Logan was of Tuck, though it was
the other Hart sister Logan wished was in his own bed waiting on him. Tomorrow, he’d
see what he could do about making that happen.

 

Emma stifled the guilt as she reached for a coffee mug, knowing that according to
some experts, she shouldn’t have any caffeine at all. She had cut down to one cup
a day and she wasn’t giving that up. It was one small concession, a last vestige of
normalcy. She’d given up alcohol, and she’d weaned herself off her usual pot of coffee
a day, but she could only do so much for this baby. It would just have to get used
to one little tiny cup of caffeine.

“Good morning.” Logan’s voice at the back door had Emma’s hand pausing on the handle
of the coffee pot.

As the screen door slammed closed, Mrs. Jenkins said, “Good morning, Logan. Come on
in. Have a seat. Coffee’s made and bacon is on the way.”

“Thank you, ma’am. That sounds wonderful.” Logan moved across the room, the coffee
pot Emma held obviously his objective. He stopped so close, he had her pinned between
his body and the counter. “Morning, Emma.”

Her pulse beat faster at the heat she saw in his eyes. “Good morning. Coffee?”

“Definitely. Thanks.” He reached into the cabinet above her head to grab a mug, and
all she could think about was him lifting her up, setting her on top of the counter,
and doing inappropriate things to her.

“Sure. No problem.” It took all she had to not shake when she poured the steaming
black liquid into his cup.

“So what are your plans for the day?” He raised a brow and sipped at his black coffee.

She concentrated on stirring cream and sugar into her own cup. Another concession
to the pregnancy—she’d switched back to real sugar instead of the fake stuff. If Becca
didn’t notice all these sudden changes in Emma’s behavior, she must be blind.

But Emma couldn’t worry about that now. She had to keep the words
I’m pregnant with your baby
from showing on her face as she tried to act casual with Logan.

“No plans so far. Are you working at the store today? I could help if you’d like.”

His lips turned up in a smile. “I’d like that very much. I figured I’d drive over
around ten. I could give you a ride. Or you can take your own car in case you want
to leave early. I’ll be there a while—”

“No, that’s fine. I can ride with you and stay for however long you do.”

His smile broadened. “That will be nice. Having the company, I mean.”

Emma’s cheeks heated as she remembered yesterday and their encounter on the worktable.
From his expression, and the way his voice dipped low and intimate as he spoke to
her, she knew Logan was remembering, too. Maybe even envisioning what could happen
today.

“You working on that saddle today?” Oklahoma had obviously gotten into her blood.
She’d fallen asleep last night fantasizing about what she and Logan could do with
the sturdy piece of leather equipment as their prop.

“I am.”

“Good. I wouldn’t mind being there for that. You know, getting a closer look at the
kind of work you could accomplish on a saddle like that.” She kept her voice low and
her words generic, but hopefully Logan would get the deeper meaning.