Читать книгу Texas On My Mind - Delores Fossen, Delores Fossen - Страница 14

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE MIGRAINE WAS chasing Logan McCord, and it was winning.

The blind spots were already there. The little swirly bright dots, too. He figured he had less than a half hour before he would have to pretend he was so exhausted that he needed a morning nap.

At least Della and Stella wouldn’t be around to try to mother him because they wouldn’t be back until tomorrow from their forced vacation. Riley wouldn’t be there, either, since he was at physical therapy. Lucky was still off doing things that Logan didn’t want to think about.

But the reporter and photographer were a different story.

The reporter, Andrea-something, came up the steps behind him, her heels sounding like a persistent woodpecker. She was persistent about getting this story, too, and if Logan hadn’t wanted this article to promote his new business venture, he would have sent her and those heels clacking.

The photographer, whose name Logan didn’t bother to catch, lagged along behind her while he adjusted his camera. Occasionally, the photographer scratched his balls, too. Logan wasn’t opposed to ball scratching, but even that sound was amplified so it seemed as if the guy was scratching a hundred chalkboards.

“We’ll just need a few more pictures,” Andrea said in between the clacking-heel sounds.

She was a reporter for one of the San Antonio newspapers, and even though she’d already interviewed Logan at the office, she had insisted on snapping a few pictures here at the ranch.

“One picture,” Logan said. He used the tone that he knew would set her teeth on edge. He knew all the tricks for doing that because people with their teeth on edge didn’t stay in his face pestering him.

Trying to make as little noise as possible so he could buy himself some time with the migraine, Logan opened the front door.

And the first thing he saw was the naked woman.

“Ta-da!” she said, and then a split second later she shrieked louder than a horde of banshees with bullhorns.

Trisha.

Even with the blind spots and aura speckles, Logan could make out her face. Though he had to admit her face wasn’t the first thing that’d caught his attention. It was her huge breasts and the tiny patch of shiny red fabric that he supposed was meant to be panties. An eye patch would have more fabric than that little thing.

Trisha shrieked again, and she scurried to the sofa to grab a dress that she held up in front of her like a shield. A piss-poor shield because it didn’t cover her left boob or that panty swatch.

The photographer snapped a few pictures of her.

Logan shot him a look to let him know that he was going to delete each one he’d just taken. A hard look wasn’t that difficult to manage since Trisha’s shrieks had caused the migraine to close in on him.

“Logan, what are you doing here?” Trisha asked.

“That was the question I planned to ask you.”

“I was waiting for Riley,” she said as if that explained everything.

And maybe it did.

Logan hadn’t heard any rumors about Riley and Trisha getting back together, but maybe his little brother had found a new way to relieve pain.

Logan closed the door, leaving the reporter and the ball-scratcher on the porch. “Riley’s at PT in San Antonio,” he told Trisha.

“I know.” She huffed, blew at a strand of her hair that’d fallen onto her cheek. “I called one of the ranch hands, and he said Riley should be back by now. I, uh, wanted to surprise him. Please, Logan,” she repeated. “You can’t tell anyone about this.”

He wouldn’t, but the photographer would. Probably the reporter, too. By noon it would be all over town, possibly posted on the internet, and the gossips would add that Logan had stepped behind closed doors with her. That meant Logan needed to call his girlfriend, Helene Langford, and let her know what had happened. Since Helene and he had been together for years, she would believe he hadn’t cheated on her with Trisha, but he didn’t want Helene blindsided by the bullshit.

Trisha started to wiggle into the dress. It was a testament to how much pain he was in that he hoped she would hurry.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Trisha asked. “You were supposed to be on a two-week business trip and shouldn’t be back for three more days.”

“I wrapped up things early—” He would have continued his own questions if Trisha hadn’t interrupted.

“But you rarely stay here anymore. I didn’t figure you’d be coming home.”

So the gossips had picked up on that, too. And it wasn’t just gossip. Logan had indeed converted the third floor of his office building to a loft apartment, and with the hours he worked, it was easier just to sleep there. Besides, it wasn’t as if he had family here now that Anna had moved off to Florida.

But Logan had no intentions of getting into that with Trisha.

“Where’s your car?” he asked, hoping he didn’t have to drive her anywhere.

She hitched her thumb toward the back. “I parked behind the house. I was going for an element of surprise.”

“Element accomplished.”

Logan went to the door to tell the reporter and photographer to take a hike, but it wasn’t only them on the other side. It was Riley, too. And he practically punched Logan in the gut because he was reaching for the doorknob.

“Go,” Logan growled to the news crew. He glared at the photographer. “And if those photos or anything else about this situation show up anywhere, you’ll deal with me.”

Logan didn’t wait for their reaction. The blind spots were getting even spottier. From the looks of it, Riley wasn’t faring much better in the pain department.

Riley stepped in right before Logan shut the door, and his brother volleyed glances between Trisha and him. It didn’t help that the front of Trisha’s dress was still hiked up, and he could see that sad excuse for panties.

“Trisha wanted to surprise you,” Logan summarized. Some people probably would have just let this all play out, but he wanted to hurry things along. “I’ll take a nap while you two have fun.”

“Thank you,” Trisha said at the exact moment Riley said, “I can’t. I need to talk to you, Logan,” Riley added.

Shit on a stick. That didn’t seem like an end to a conversation but rather the beginning of one Logan didn’t want to have.

Riley turned to Trisha. “I haven’t seen Logan in months. We need to get some family things settled.”

Translation: Riley didn’t want what Trisha was offering behind those red panties.

“Plus, I’m in pain. It was a rough session of PT today.” Riley rotated his shoulder and winced. Probably not fake, either, like that family-things comment.

Riley never wanted to discuss family things.

“I’ll call you,” Riley told Trisha when she didn’t budge.

Maybe the last bit of her dignity kicked in because the woman finally scurried to gather the rest of her things. Of course, she had on woodpecker heels, too, and they hammered against the hardwood floor. Trisha turned, heading toward the back of the house, but then she stopped.

“I just thought...” she said to Riley. “Well, I just thought I could cheer you up. I mean, I thought you might be feeling a little blue what with Claire marrying Daniel and all.”

Translation: pity sex.

And judging from the way Riley’s expression soured, he might just be in need of pity something. That wasn’t the expression of a man who’d just learned a friend was getting married. No. But then, Riley had always had a thing for Claire.

“Call me,” Trisha reminded Riley. She dropped a kiss on his cheek. Paused. As if waiting for Riley to do something more than make it a cheek kiss. When he didn’t, Trisha finally left.

“Sorry about that,” Riley mumbled. He was wearing his uniform, and with the exception of that weary, pained expression, he looked every bit the part of a military superstar. Which from all accounts, he was.

Logan considered repeating that part about needing a nap, but instead he found himself sinking down on the chair across from Riley. “Want to talk about it?”

Riley dropped the back of his head against the sofa and let out a long breath. “Which part—Trisha or the PT?”

“Both. Or neither,” Logan amended. “Or you can talk—briefly—about Claire and Daniel.”

Riley lifted his head and made eye contact with him, and for a moment Logan thought Riley would question that briefly part. To the best of his knowledge, Riley didn’t know about the migraines, and Logan wanted to keep it that way. Besides, his little brother no doubt had him beat a thousandfold in the pain department.

“Claire hasn’t decided if she’s marrying Daniel, but he did propose again, and he gave her a week to decide. There’s only one day left on his deadline. Trisha wants a repeat of what we did in high school. The PT’s going nowhere.”

Logan dismissed the first two topics, went with the last one. “How much time do you have left on your medical leave?”

“A month, maybe less.” He aimed his eyes at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact. “If I can’t pass a physical, I might be given a medical discharge.”

Riley said it in the same tone as someone would admit they were dying from cancer or some other horrible disease. But he wasn’t dying. He just wouldn’t be able to lead the life he wanted more than being near family.

“Are you still having flashbacks?” Logan asked.

That got his eyes away from the ceiling, and Logan earned a glare for his question. “Who said I was having them in the first place? Hell. Claire told you?”

“No. One of the ranch hands heard you when you were sleeping on the back porch, but if Claire knows, at least you’re talking to someone about it.”

“I’m not talking to her about it. Not talking to you about it, either.”

Logan decided it was a good time to listen. Besides, it was easier to deal with the spots if he didn’t have the sound of his own voice echoing in his head.

“I can’t get kicked out of the Air Force,” Riley snarled. He motioned toward his uniform. “This isn’t just what I do. It’s who I am. I help people. I rescue them. I save them from dying. Most of the time,” he added.

Logan nodded. This wasn’t anything new. “Man-rule number two—don’t be ordinary.”

“It’s man-rule number one,” Riley snapped.

Right. The headache must have fuzzed his memory up a little. As often as Logan had heard those rules, he should have remembered. “I don’t need to know the number of the rule to know what it means, Riley. You left home because you wanted something more than this place could offer.”

Logan’s strong suit wasn’t being warm and fuzzy, and clearly he missed the boat this time, too.

“You stayed because you chose to stay,” Riley reminded him.

Ah, hell. That was not the thing to say right now. It wasn’t the first time it’d come up, and sometimes Logan just walked away from it.

Not today, though.

“I stayed to make sure the business that Dad started didn’t go under,” he reminded Riley. “I’m the one who made it what it is today. The one who went to parent–teacher meetings for Anna—”

“You stepped up to do that.”

“Yeah. But Lucky and you could have stepped up, too. You didn’t, and neither did he. When you say you don’t want to be here because it’s ordinary, just remember you’re calling my life and everything that I’ve worked for ordinary, too.”

Logan stood and said the rest of what he wanted to say while he was walking away. “I need that nap now.”

The migraine, and this conversation, had caught up with him and was already kicking him in the nuts.

* * *

CLAIRE OPENED HER back door to take out the trash, and that’s when she saw it. A creature was just sitting there on the steps. It was in the shape of a ball, with gray fur sticking out in every direction.

And it had one eye.

She shrieked, scrambled away from it, banging her hip against the kitchen counter, but all the commotion didn’t stop it from coming closer. It just ambled in the house as if she’d given it an invitation.

“Whoa,” Ethan said. He scooted down from his booster seat where he was eating his lunch. “Cat.” Or rather “tat.”

Claire had already picked up the broom to try to shoo it out, but she gave it another look. Maybe it was a cat. It squalled, a sound that a cat might make, so maybe Ethan was right.

“Don’t get too close, Ethan,” she warned her son. If she could catch it, she’d take it into the vet to make sure he or she was okay and wasn’t the survivor of some radiation experiments.

But Ethan didn’t listen. He immediately offered the critter a bite of his PB&J sandwich. There was some sniffing involved on both the cat’s and Ethan’s parts before the animal took a bite. Clearly, it was starving if it would go after that.

With the broom still in her hand and while keeping an eye on their visitor, Claire poured some milk in a saucer, sloshing it all over her and the floor before she managed to put it in front of the animal. It took a lap but went back for another taste of the PB&J.

“Whoa,” Ethan said again, giggling.

Well, Whoa was certainly a good name for it, but she hoped this wasn’t an omen. A bad one. Of course, she’d been looking for omens and signs all day since the deadline for Daniel’s marriage proposal was only hours away.

“Don’t get too attached,” she told Ethan. “We can’t keep it.”

Claire used the PB&J and the saucer of milk to lure the cat back out onto the porch, and shut the screen door before it could get back in. Ethan sat down on the floor to watch, and she saw something in his eyes that she instantly recognized.

Love.

Apparently, pet fever ran in the family, and while this was no cute fur ball, Ethan didn’t seem to mind. Too bad she couldn’t explain that it was a stray and this might be the one and only time they saw him.

She gathered up the stuff to make Ethan another sandwich, but she heard the *NSYNC ringtone, and it sent her heart banging against her chest. Sheez. She braced herself for the conversation she was going to need to have with Daniel, but she saw a name on the screen that she hadn’t expected to see.

Logan.

She tried to hit the button so fast that she nearly dropped her phone. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

What she really wanted to know—was Riley okay? Logan must not have picked up on that subtext, but judging from the sound he made, he was a little taken aback by her frantic tone.

“I’ve got a big favor to ask you,” he said. “I have to take another business trip, and I need you to check on Riley for me.”