Off Limits (Sparks in Texas Book 4) (8 page)

He shook his head. “No. I’m not here for
food.” He pointed to where his truck was parked out front. “I’ve
got your chaise. Thought I’d see if you could take a few minutes to
pop over to your place and unload it. Looks like I picked a good
time.”

She leaned closer and murmured, “It’s been a
week.”

Logan sighed. “I know.”

“Hey, Logan,” Tyson called out from his seat
at the end of the bar. “Come have a beer with me.”

Logan nodded. “Go finish your shift. I’ll
wait for you.”

He crossed the crowded room, stopping to say
hello to a few people. One of the best—and worst—things about
living in the same small town your whole life was that everybody
knew everybody else. And not just in a “passing acquaintance” way,
but in a “remember you when you were knee-high to a grasshopper”
way.

As such, Mrs. Higgins had no compunction
about asking him for the millionth time how he could have let that
lovely girlfriend of his go. He politely told her the breakup had
been Jane’s decision, not his.

TJ didn’t mind slapping him on the back and
joking he’d been smart to avoid putting on the ball and chain. Then
he’d not-too-subtly reminded him that his daughter Macie was still
single.

Logan simply raised one eyebrow. “I think
Macie is too much woman for me.”

TJ laughed loudly, the sound booming across
the room. “Yeah. She probably is. What about my baby girl, Adele,
then?”

TJ was always trying to play matchmaker for
his daughters. Something that drove Macie and Adele nuts, since all
those efforts were made right in front of them.

“Ignore him, Logan. We suspect dementia is
setting in,” Macie called out from behind the bar. “And dear God,
Dad. Why are you still here? You’re not even on the schedule to
work today.”

“It’s happy hour,” TJ called out, lifting his
beer and clinking glasses with the two old cronies at his
table.

Sparks Barbeque was actually TJ’s restaurant,
but he left the cooking, waitressing, management, basically
everything to the girls. And between the seven of them, they had
put the restaurant—and by extension, Maris, Texas—on the map. The
place had been featured in several national magazines as one of the
best barbeque joints in the country, and just last month, Paige had
received a call from the Food Network about filming a show there.
For several days, the local gossips had been all abuzz about the
possibility of their little town appearing on TV.

Finally, Logan made it to the bar, claiming
the stool next to Tyson. “Busy in here tonight.”

Tyson shrugged. “It’s Friday in Maris.” He
let the comment stand as if that explained it all, which it did.
With the exception of Cruisers, which was on the outskirts of town
and catered more to the party crowd, Sparks Barbeque was the only
other option for social drinking. It was quieter, and it attracted
the older men who liked to toss back a few with TJ, and the
established couples out on dates, looking for a place where they
didn’t have to yell to be heard over the loud music.

“Budweiser?” Macie asked him, even though she
was already pouring the draft.

Logan nodded his thanks as Macie went back to
the other end of the bar, continuing the story she’d been telling
Coop without missing a beat.

“You know,” Tyson said, “I’ve been thinking.
Maybe we should get the band back together.”

Logan laughed as he shook his head. He,
Tyson, and their friends Harley and Caleb had formed Ty’s
Collective back in high school. When Caleb and Tyson went off to
college, they’d do local gigs whenever the guys were home over
holidays and then they had resurrected it fulltime after Tyson
graduated from med school and returned to Maris. “Hell no.”

“Why not?”

Logan lifted his hand as he ticked off his
reasons. “For one thing, Cal’s too busy running his father’s Feed
and Seed while he recovers from his heart attack, and Harley moved
away. Band wouldn’t sound the same without her killing it on the
banjo.”

Harley Mills had been an integral part of
their group of friends for the past thirty or so years, but that
changed when she took off to Florida a year ago after her brother’s
death. They all felt her absence. With her departure, the band had
dissolved. Logan missed the music and the camaraderie, but he also
knew Ty’s Collective only worked with Harley on the stage with
them.

“I can be the lead singer,” Macie
interjected.

“Jesus, Mace. How do you do that?” Tyson
asked. “You’re in the middle of a conversation with Coop, yet
you’re listening in on ours.”

Macie shrugged. “It’s not that hard. Besides,
I don’t like to miss stuff. Like Mrs. Higgins over there bitching
about the new sign outside the Baptist church. Let it go,
Agnes.”

“I’m not bitching,” Agnes called out. “I just
said it was hard to read.”

Macie ignored the woman’s outburst and
pointed to TJ. “And Dad’s over there making a bet on next week’s
Rangers game with Earl, even though he promised my mom he wouldn’t
gamble anymore.”

TJ frowned, hotly denying what everyone in
the place knew was true. “I am not. And don’t be feeding your
mother those stories either.”

Macie rolled her eyes and turned her
attention back to Logan and Tyson. “So I can be lead singer.”

Tyson shook his head vehemently. “No way.
Never. Not in a million years. I’ve heard you sing, Mace. It’s bad.
Really bad.”

Macie was infamous for her extraordinarily
awful singing voice, a fact she drove home when she took it upon
herself to sing “The National Anthem” at the annual Fourth of July
picnic by the lake a few years earlier. Patriotism hit a new low as
everyone in attendance burst out in hoots and hollers, laughing
until their sides hurt at the painful performance. Which, of
course, only encouraged an unoffended Macie to sign louder and to
draw out the high notes longer.

“You’re tone deaf,” Logan added.

“I’ve been practicing in the shower. I really
think I’m getting it. Tell them, Coop. You were here last week when
I sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to Paige. Nailed it, didn’t I?”

Coop looked at her, frowning. “You were
singing? I thought you’d burned yourself on one of the
candles.”

Macie chucked a peanut at Coop’s head, which
he deftly dodged. “To hell with all of you.” Then she launched
right back into whatever story she’d been telling Coop before
interrupting them. She was impossible to keep up with, but funny as
hell.

Logan had avoided the restaurant for two
weeks, trying to hide from Lacy. Now, he realized he’d missed
it.

“Maybe we can find another banjo player, and
I can do most of the lead vocals,” Tyson offered. “We all took
turns at the mic anyway.”

“Tyson, I know you’ll probably find this hard
to believe, but we weren’t that good.” It was a boldfaced lie. They
were awesome. More than once, it had been suggested that they all
quit their day jobs and pursue the music career fulltime. None of
them had been tempted. It was a passion that they all shared—on a
hobby level.

Tyson chuckled. “Bullshit.”

“Why the big need to start it all up again?
Aren’t you pretty busy these days?”

Dr. Tyson Sparks was the one who’d suggested
they take a hiatus after Harley left. He was one of only two
general practitioners who lived in Maris, while the nearest
hospital resided nearly forty minutes away in the neighboring town
of Douglas. As such, he was in constant demand, treating everything
from cut fingers to the more serious medical concerns.

“I thought you might like the distraction,”
Tyson explained.

“Distraction?” The only thing Logan needed to
be distracted from was Lacy, but God help him if Tyson knew that.
He was as overprotective of his cousins and sister, Paige, as Evan
was.

“It was just a thought.”

It occurred to Logan that perhaps it was
Tyson who needed the distraction. Logan had been walking around
with his head up his ass for so many months, he’d failed to see
Tyson was facing his own struggles as well.

“You miss Harley?”

“Is that really a question?”

“I’m sorry, man. Didn’t realize how rough it
was on you. I miss her too.” He really did. Though her departure
had been easier for him. He’d always hung out more with Evan than
Caleb, Harley, and Tyson—who had been inseparable for most of their
lives.

“It’s alright. Let’s face it. You took a
double hit. I mean, Jane took off just a few weeks after
Harley.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

Tyson placed a friendly, comforting hand on
Logan’s shoulder. “Believe me, there are plenty of other women out
there who would be lucky to have you. Jane didn’t deserve you.”

“Uh. Am I interrupting?”

Logan glanced over his shoulder to find Lacy
standing next to him with her purse over her arm.

Great. From the look on her face, it was
clear she’d heard Tyson’s comments and now she thought he’d been
sitting here crying in his beer over Jane.

“No. You’re not,” Logan said, standing. He
needed to get her out of here. Set things straight. “You
ready?”

“You two going somewhere?” Tyson asked
curiously.

“He fixed my chaise. We’re taking it back to
my place,” Lacy replied. The happiness she’d shown when he had
first arrived at the restaurant was gone, replaced by
uncertainty.

“Need any help?” Tyson started to stand.

“No,” Logan said quickly. “It’s light. We can
manage.”

He placed his hand at the base of Lacy’s
spine and guided her to the door before Tyson could insist.

He continued to propel her toward his truck
even though she appeared to be dragging her feet. When he opened
the door, she paused. “If you’d rather do this another time…”

Logan shook his head. “Get in the truck.” He
didn’t make it a request and he didn’t bother to make it sound
nice. He’d spent a week waiting for the moment when he’d get her
alone again, and he wasn’t wasting the opportunity on
misunderstandings.

As always, Lacy responded to his commanding
tone, which didn’t help his already painful erection. He’d stopped
trying to beat the fucking thing down the second they got out of
the restaurant. Now he was wondering how the hell he could walk
around to the driver’s side without limping. God help him if anyone
in the restaurant was looking his way. It was bound to be obvious
what was troubling him.

Logan climbed behind the steering wheel,
adjusting his dick before he did himself an injury. Lacy’s eyes
twinkled briefly and she opened her mouth—no doubt to give him shit
for his condition—before she sobered up again and remained quiet.
He hated seeing her upset.

“Don’t.”

She tilted her head, confused. “Don’t
what?”

“Don’t think what you’re thinking. I’m not
still hung up on Jane.”

“No one would blame you if—”

“I don’t miss her.”

Lacy didn’t appear to believe him.
“Logan—”

“I don’t miss her, Lacy,” he said more
resolutely. “The breakup was long overdue and I think I’d mourned
the end of that relationship before it was even over. She and I
were wrong for each other. It’s over. I swear.”

“Really?”

He could read the doubt in her tone and he
didn’t blame her. Three years was a long time to live with someone.
And he hadn’t helped himself by holing up inside his shop for a
year after it ended, not bothering to date anyone else.

“She has nothing to do with us.”

Her smile grew. “There’s an us?”

He closed his eyes, wishing she didn’t
befuddle him so. She had him talking in circles, saying everything
wrong. “For now.”

His response didn’t dim her enthusiasm. “Now
works for me.”

His lids opened at the sound of her shifting
on the seat. She was wearing a short skirt that she lifted just
enough to show him that she wasn’t wearing panties.

Logan had never considered himself the
jealous type, but knowing she’d been flitting around that
restaurant all day like that had his vision going red. “You worked
like that all day?”

She laughed. “Good God, no. My Uncle TJ was
in there. How awkward would that be? I took them off and stashed
them in my purse just before I came to meet you at the bar.”

She was too adorable for his own good. “I
like the idea of you dropping your panties whenever I show up.”

“Logan?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we go now?”

He made no move to start the truck. “In a
hurry?”

The dirty girl reached between her thighs and
ran her finger along her slit. Logan watched, spellbound, as she
raised one very shiny finger to him. “Yes.”

He started the truck, using the five minutes
it took for them to get from the restaurant to her front door to
control himself. Foolishly, he’d agreed to the no-penetration rule,
as if that somehow kept him true to his promise to Evan. He hadn’t
just broken the damn vow to his friend; he’d shattered it and was
currently dancing barefoot on the shards.

When they arrived at her place, he took a
steadying breath and forced himself to calm down. He’d sworn to
himself when he loaded up the chaise and left his shop, he wouldn’t
touch her tonight. He’d slowly extricate himself from whatever this
was.

Lacy was halfway to her front door before he
could find the voice to call out, “Forgetting something?”

She looked over her shoulder, finding him
standing at the end of his truck bed. “Oh. Yeah. The chaise.”

From her heavy-lidded eyes, Lacy had expected
him to drag her upstairs and let the games begin again. He was
sorely tempted.

Logan lowered the back of the truck and slid
the chaise out. It wasn’t that heavy. Lacy helped him guide it down
then held on to the light end, leading him to her door and up the
stairs to her apartment.

He’d been in her place once before three
years earlier, when he, Tyson and Evan had helped her move in. He
had spent the day lugging furniture, placing it here, there, and
then back to here as she directed their movements and changed her
mind every five seconds. Logan hadn’t been back since.