Caught Up in the Touch (32 page)
Movement. Logan emerged from the shadows and into the light, shielding his eyes with a hand. Blowing out a deep breath, Jessica cracked the truck door open. The overhead light blinked on. Darcy touched Jessica’s arm and said, “You want us to wait around?”
As if she wanted witnesses to the possible skewering of her heart. Anyway, Logan was nothing if not a gentleman and would drive her back to Lilliana’s even if he told her he never wanted to see her again.
“Everything will be fine,” Jessica said. Everyone in the truck, probably Avery included, recognized the trite response as a lie. Or maybe as a hopeful prediction. Unfortunately, she wasn’t Nostradamus. Pushing the truck door open, she hopped from the running board to land in soggy, decomposing leaves.
Pressing hot palms over the back of her jeans, she walked toward him. A river of light guided her. When she was still twenty feet from Logan, Dalt executed a turn to head back down the ridge. She blinked, willing her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Unlike the night they’d made love, clouds chased across the sky, obscuring the moon and stars.
She kept up a slow shuffle toward the dark mass of his truck. He stood like a cardboard cutout, not moving, not speaking. Six feet away she stopped, sticking her hands into her back pockets and then moving them to her front.
“Hi.” She lilted the word with a brightness completely out of character and born of uncertainty.
“What are doing up here?” His face was still a mystery, but his tone offered enough encouragement to send her forward a few more steps.
Where to start and how to apologize? “I never set out to intentionally lie to you, even by omission. Things were so new and wonderful, I didn’t want to screw up by dropping a bombshell about your father being behind the offer. The thought of you believing that I was using you makes me feel broken inside. Believe me when I say, that this”—she gestured between them—“wasn’t even on my radar when I drove into Falcon. I was going to get you hired and drive home. End of story.”
Silence. He was slipping away from her, or maybe she never had a shot to get him back. No less than what she deserved. A throb that had nothing to do with the blood pumping through her heart manifested in her chest, and she rubbed the heel of her hand against it. No matter what, she would leave Falcon knowing she’d tried.
“I told my father I’m not going back to Montgomery Industries, no matter what happens with us.” She swallowed a lump of tears and cleared her throat. “I’ve always tried to fit into someone else’s mold for me. I’d never felt true acceptance. I’d never accepted myself. Until you. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. But I did. For the first time. I never lied to you about how I feel, Logan.”
More silence. She’d lost him. A tear slipped out, and a tremble quaked her body. She pressed her fingertips under her eyes to stem the gathering flood. She would try to make it to Lilliana’s before falling apart.
“Could you take me to Lilliana’s?” She tried and failed to keep the chin wobble out of her voice, closing her eyes and wishing she could teleport.
The rustle of leaves sounded, and heat radiated into her. He cupped her cheeks, his thumbs brushing at the defecting tears.
“Jessie.” He breathed her name before kissing the wet trails. With his lips soft against her cheeks, he said, “Do you really want to go to Lilliana’s or would you rather go home?”
Home.
The words resonated through her. A sob snuck out.
His lips moved against her skin. “I’m not going to lie and tell you I wasn’t pissed as hell. Imagining you living with another man.… Add to that the fact
my
father orchestrated this whole thing,
your
father took great delight in trying to destroy us, and
both
of them are peckerheads—it was a lot to take in.”
A giggle snuck through her tears. Had her father ever been called a peckerhead? “I’m sorry, Logan.”
“If anyone should be pissed, you should be pissed at me. Your father called me when everything was going down with Scott. I’ll admit starting over somewhere was tempting.” He wrapped her tight to his chest and sighed. “I vowed to protect that vulnerable part of you, yet I left you at your father’s mercy. I should have stayed and supported you. I’ve been up here kicking my ass.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. In fact, Father and I came to an understanding. He doesn’t have the power to hurt me anymore. I took it back. I don’t trust him, but I forgave him. ” She curled her hands around his sides, aware of his pounding heart, the slight movements as he breathed in and out, the tensing of his muscles as he shifted back to look at her.
“I swear to God, I’m sending my father a thank-you note,” he said.
“Are you serious?”
“If he hadn’t interfered and decided I needed a better job, our paths would have never crossed. My life would be incomplete.”
Her feet left the ground, and he twirled her around. She laughed and slapped his shoulder. He set her down and kissed her nose. “I love you, Jessie Montgomery.”
His declaration washed away any lingering doubts and fear. “I love you too, Logan Wilde.” She rose on tiptoe, seeking his mouth. She brushed her lips over his. He turned the sweet kiss into something darkly carnal, another sort of promise altogether as he pressed her against the cab of the truck.
A raindrop hit her cheek and slid down. Against her mouth, she felt his lips turn in a smile. “Too damn cold and wet for love under the stars again.”
“Is it?” she said vaguely, breathlessly, slipping a hand under his shirt.
A rumble of laughter vibrated his chest against her. “Damn, I love you smart and vulnerable and sweet, but I also love you wild and crazy and out of control.”
She opened her mouth to protest but let the breath go. He was right. She was all those things, and for the first time in her life, she was proud.
“Does this mean you accept my job offer?” he asked.
“Not as it stands.”
He tensed but didn’t let her go. “How so?”
She smiled, feeling confident. “I don’t want to work for you. I want us to be partners. I’ll sell my house in Richmond, use the proceeds to buy a stake in Falcon Foods.”
He relaxed and chuckled. “Is that what we’re calling our company?”
Our
company. The words sang through her. “It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“You bet your sweet ass it does, but I’ve got my own clause to negotiate.”
Her heart skipped a beat in spite of the warm humor in his voice. “What sort of clause?”
“I want to make it legal.”
“O-kay.” She drew the word out. “Usually, this sort of thing includes contracts.”
He bent his head close to her, his nose along her temple, and whispered, “I mean I want to make
us
legal.”
Logan’s breath stuttered in and out, too fast yet too shallow to keep from getting lightheaded.
“Hold up a cotton-picking minute.” Jessica pressed a hand against his chest and pushed him away a few inches. The cloud cover had thickened and the raindrops came faster, keeping her thoughts a mystery. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
Nerves fired from his stomach and up his throat, making his voice tight. “In my roundabout, nervous-as-hell way … yes. Will you marry me?”
The ping of raindrops off the truck filled the silence with a musical quality.
Throwing herself forward and her arms around his neck, she shouted, “Yes!”
The word echoed back from the valley.
His muttered, “Thank the Lord.”
“No, thank our fathers.”
He chuffed and shook his head. “It’s amazing how the universe seems to work things out. If I’d known years ago this estrangement with my father would eventually bring me you, I would never have resented him so much.”
“But then you wouldn’t have gotten in trouble and met that chef, planting the dream of your own restaurant,” she said matter-of-factly. “And, if
my
father had been nurturing and more understanding, I would never have arrived in Falcon primed to break free and discover something truly wonderful.”
“You’re saying our paths crossed at exactly the right time. My logical, straightforward woman has a philosophical, romantic bent.”
My woman.
Yep, he liked that.
Her grin flashed white. “I’m an onion, Logan.”
“Stinky with dry skin?”
She giggled. “No. Layered.”
“I plan to spend the rest of my life peeling you—starting with your clothes.” He kissed her lightly. “Although if we’re going with romantic food comparisons, I’d liken you to a mess of turnip greens.”
“Withered and a putrid green?”
“Darlin’. You obviously haven’t had a good mess of greens. No, freshly picked, greens are bitter.”
She wiped a raindrop off her forehead, her eyes slits. “Not a promising start, Mountain Man.”
“Then you cook them down, and over time they lose all the bitterness and become rich and flavorful with a hint of spice.”
She laughed. Lightning streaked overhead. A few seconds later, thunder vibrated the air. She jerked in his arms, burrowing closer. “All right, enough with not-very-romantic food talk. Let’s go home before we catch cold.” His logical, bossy-pants woman was back.
He opened the truck door for her, and she climbed straight to the middle of the bench seat. When he opened his door, the overhead light illuminated her face, trusting and happy. He tried to smile in return.
He slid next to her, but she stopped his hand on the ignition and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“My house. I can only imagine how you grew up in Richmond. Your father pulling up in a damn Mercedes with a chauffeur.” He tapped the steering wheel with a forefinger. The old-fashioned farmhouse with the long porch was quaint, charming even, but it would never qualify as luxurious.
She wound her hands around his biceps and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I love our house, the memories you have there, the ghosts of all your ancestors walking the land. I feel closer to my ma-maw there.”
Their house.
“I’m glad. I don’t want to move.”
“Anyway, you need the forest. I’ll give you all the love you can handle, but I can’t give you the peace you find in the woods.”
While he’d grown to understand her vulnerabilities, she had obviously been learning his. He weaved his fingers through hers and laid a kiss on the back of her hand. “I have the feeling I’ll need to head out into the wilderness less often with my own little wild woman at home.”
He pointed them toward home, taking the rough track as fast as he could. The rain fell steadily now, turning everything around them gray and white. They laughed and ran through the puddles to the front door of the old farmhouse. He tugged her up the stairs. He’d worry about the trail of rainwater in the morning—or whenever they made it out of bed.
The playfulness was gone. Frantic hands tore at clothing. He kissed her. She kissed him. Tongues wrested for control. Finally, her naked body fell into his, and he swept her into a cradle hold and laid her on his bed. Shedding his underwear and pants, he held himself over her, the tips of her breasts against his chest, curling his toes.
She scratched her nails down his back, the sensations heightened by the winding emotions of the day. Raw pain, guilt over letting her down, relief, joy. He wanted to seal the promises they’d made in the most elemental way possible. She wrapped her legs around his thighs with a similar desperation.
He slid inside of her in one smooth stroke. She gasped, her back arching. He held himself still and brushed her hair back from her face. Her eyes reflected the same pain and joy, the same thrill for the future. A future they would face together.
Six Months Later
“What about the seafood?” Jessica strode to the front of the restaurant, her heels tapping as she checked things off on her e-tablet. The man beside her took two steps to her one.
“Delivered straight from the gulf coast this morning for tonight’s special,” Alvin Taylor said in a melted-chocolate voice. Jessica had poached the Montgomery Industries veteran to run the new restaurant in Tuscaloosa and tasked him to put together a prospectus for other possible locations around the southeast.
Her father, of course, had been furious. A small part of her snickered and rubbed her hands in glee at gigging her father in a small way, but mostly she was happy to give Alvin the promotion he deserved but would never receive at Montgomery Industries. Being in his late fifties and black were two things the man would never overcome with hard work.
“You happy with the hires?” she asked.
“Hardworking and sharp. Mr. Wilde’s menus aren’t terribly complex, but they are unusual. And delicious. My wife’s already had to let my pants out.” He laughed a full-bellied laugh that set both workers and customers at ease and would flavor the atmosphere of Virginia’s, named after Jessica’s ma-maw. Exactly how Logan’s laid-back charm made Adaline’s what it was.
The front door opened and the late morning sunshine highlighted a tall, jeans-clad, ball-cap-wearing man with killer biceps. A thrill that she hoped never got old zinged through her body, making her hyper-aware of her skin rubbing against the inside of her clothes.
She shed the professional, serious persona of CEO of Falcon Foods and hugged her husband of two months around the waist. He dipped her over the back of his arm and gave her a deep kiss. She clutched the front of his T-shirt, and when he let her go to greet Alvin, she wobbled in her heels.
“How’s it going, Alvin?” Logan held out a hand. Alvin vigorously shook it with a grin that squinted his eyes into nothing.
“Fine. And, yourself, sir?”
“Call me Logan, for pity’s sake. You can call Jessie Mrs. Wilde if you want. She’s the one in charge. I’m coming by to see when she will be returning to me.” He snagged her around the waist and molded them together. He whispered, “I miss you.”
Alvin drifted back to the kitchens, leaving them alone except for two of the wait-staff prepping the tables for the lunch crowd on the far side of the room. They sent their bosses side-eyed glances.
