Stud for Hire (22 page)

Ben had chuckled at that, rubbing his hands. “This ain't Snake Gully,” he'd chortled. “And Zack Pucey don't own the law.” Hanna had no doubt, if Zack was foolish enough to return, he'd be in no end of trouble—either from the sheriff, or the brothers. She wasn't sure which would be worse.

Logan's ranch wasn't far, which was a good thing, because Hanna didn't really breathe until they passed beneath the swinging heart branded with the entwined letters HH—she kept looking behind them, convinced Zack was following them. He wasn't.

But even after they passed the main gate, the road stretched on and on.

“It's not a big ranch,” Logan insisted when she asked, but when he told her the acreage, her eyes widened. The house neared and she sat up in the seat, peering at it curiously. It was smaller than she expected, for this spread of land. Almost a cottage, really.

When they zoomed past it and she protested, Logan chuckled. “That's the caretaker's place,” he explained. “There's the house.” He waved at a structure in the distance and then laughed again as her jaw dropped.

It was enormous. A mansion. Her home back in Snake Gully would fit in it three times. Maybe four. “It's so big.”

“Too big for one man.” He flicked a look at her as he pulled in and set the brake. “So what do you want to see first? The house . . . or the horses?”

“Oh, the horses.”

So he took her into the stable and introduced her to Lily and Pansy and Petal, the fillies. At the end of the stable a gorgeous stallion poked out his nose and snorted impatiently.

“And this,” he said proudly, “Is my man, Harley.”

Hanna blinked. “You named your horse Harley?”

“Mmm hmm. As a kid, I always wanted to ride a Harley.”

She threw back her head and laughed. Harley butted her with his snout until she patted him and fed him an apple, which was really what he had wanted all along.

Logan put his hands on his hips and glanced around the stable. “I love it here,” he said.

Hanna hooked her arm in his. “I see that.”

“Do you know how many times I've fantasized about taking you in the tack room?”

The question caught her off guard, hurtling her back to the first night they'd spent together. She could hardly believe she was the same woman.

Then again, she wasn't.

“That could probably be arranged.”

His head dipped and his lips covered hers. Lust, only ever banked with him, flared to life. He smiled through the kiss as he walked her backward, his hands roving, even as they steered her toward the tack room.

Harley whinnied, as though cheering them on . . . or warning them. Because, as they reached their destination, the sound of laughter and chattered conversation reached them. Logan stilled. Sighed. “Well, it could be arranged, but it might take some doing,” he said as, just then, no fewer than three ranch hands wandered into the stable and greeted him with raised hats. “This is a real working farm, you see.”

“Like Cody's isn't?”

Logan snorted. “I don't know what Cody's is. But here, we raise cattle.”

“Not holy hell?”

They shared a look and laughed. The laughter, and the moment, quieted around them. The mood shifted. Heat rose again.

“Shall we . . .” He cleared his throat. “Shall we go into the house? I would . . . love to show you around.”

“I'd like that.” She didn't bother suppressing her grin. She knew what he had in mind. “Oh dear,” she said as a sudden thought hit her. “We forgot my things. I don't have any clothes.”

Logan's grin widened. “How is this a problem?” he asked.

They were still grinning when they stepped up on the broad porch with its fresh, white-washed paint. The entryway was a broad double door, with carved wood and gleaming brass fixtures.

“Welcome to my home,” Logan said as he opened the door. He invested the words with such meaning, they made Hanna's heart flutter. Or perhaps that was the look in his eye. “Do you want a tour?”

Disappointment skated through her. After that kiss in the stable, she'd been hoping for—

“We, ah, could start with the upstairs—”

“Oh, yes please!”

He chuckled at her quick response. But seriously. It had been
hours
since they'd been together. That was far too long.

The tour, such as it was, was brief, and consisted of the hall leading to his bedroom. And, also, his bedroom. It was enormous; the chamber stretched across the east side of the house and included an elegant sitting area. It was decorated in heavy, dark wood and dominated by a grand four-poster bed.

Hanna glanced at Logan, excitement trilling through her as thoughts of what they could do in that bed danced in her head.

She had little time to contemplate the prospects. As soon as they were through the door, he kicked it shut and yanked her into his arms.

“Here,” he whispered. “Finally, I have you here.”

She laughed, but then met his eyes. He wasn't joking. His features were bleak, pinched. “What is it, Logan?” She asked, cupping his cheek with her palm.

“I had this dream that this was where I would say it.”

“Say what?”

“But now that you're here . . . I . . .”

“Logan?” Anxiety swirled in her chest.

“Sorry, Hanna. This is kind of nerve-racking.”

“What is—?”

Her lungs locked as he did it. As he dropped to one knee. “Hanna Stevens. I've always loved you. As a boy, it was a crush, I know that now. Because what I feel for you . . . God, it's worlds, universes more.”

Tears pricked her lashes. Something sweet swelled in her chest. “Logan—”

“I want you in my life. I want you in my bed. I want you across the table from me every night at supper, and I want you holding my hand when I take my last breath. But only . . .”

“But only?”

“But only if that's that you want.”

“I want.” She said it so softly, he may not have heard.

“You don't have to answer me yet. It's probably unfair of me to spring this on you so soon, but I want you—need you—to know how I feel.”

“Logan—”

“You hardly know me, after all.” She heard the insecurity of a young boy in his tone, layered as it was with the surety of a man, a man brave enough to expose his heart when he wasn't sure it would be accepted.

“I do. I do know you—”

“That's why I wanted to spend this time with you. I didn't want to force you to be with me but I hoped, hoped that as you got to know me, maybe, just maybe, when you made your choice . . . it would be me you picked.”

She had to stop him. He was breaking her heart. She did it the only way she knew how. She dropped to her knees at his side and kissed him. “You're an idiot, Logan Landry,” she said. But she said it with a smile.

“Get off your knees,” he grumbled.

“You first.” But they stood together and then she wrapped her arms around him and held him close. “I do know you,” she said. “I know a lot about you. I know you are a boy who once stood up to the biggest bully in town for a girl who barely noticed him.”

“Never noticed him.”

She flushed. “Never did. I'm sorry for that.” She stroked his cheek.

“Don't be, Hanna. Don't ever be sorry. Just be . . . Hanna.”

“That's another thing I know about you.”

“What?”

“You want me to be me. You always wanted me to be happy—even if it meant you couldn't have me. You were willing to let that happen.”

“It would have killed me. But you deserve that, Hanna. Every woman does.”

“I love you, Logan. And I always will. I love everything about you. And you know what?”

“What?” He met her gaze, his eyes wide and filled with adoration and humility and hope.

“I love that boy too. That scared, brave boy. He saved me that night. From God knows what.”

“I know what,” he growled. “Damn Zack Pucey.”

She smacked him. “Don't interrupt.”

“Sorry.”

“And don't ever mention his name again. Promise.”

“Gladly.”

“As I was saying . . .” She sighed as she recalled how things could have been. “That boy saved me, and I owe him everything.”

He frowned. “I don't want you to owe me.”

“Tough. I do. The way I figure it, I owe you about, oh, fifty years or so of utter devotion.”

His chuckle rocked the room. “That sounds pretty good.”

“Doesn't it?”

“And utter obedience too?” he asked hopefully, but it was clear he was only playing.

She made a face, but she was only playing too. “What if I don't want to be obedient?”

“I guess I'll have to break out the leather straps . . .” They both laughed and he pulled her closer. “Come here,” he said.

“What do you have in mind?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Not that. I want to make love to you in my bed. Something gentle. Something sweet. Something we'll remember for the rest of our lives.” He yanked off his shirt and she followed suit.

Her every muscle shivered as he cupped her lace-clad breasts. “Something that memorable?”

“Oh yes.” He walked her to the bed and settled her on the duvet and lowered his head.

And just as their lips were about to meet, just as he was about to claim her completely, here, in his bed . . . a car door slammed in the driveway below. A warble drifted through the open window.
“Yoo hoo! Logan! Hope we're not interrupting anything!”

His eyes crossed and Hanna couldn't help but laugh.

“Looks like we'll have to wait for memorable,” she said.

Logan muttered an invective—something about damned brothers and privacy and the sanctity of a man's home, for the love of God—and yanked on his shirt.

“It's okay,” she assured him as she donned her own and hooked her arms in his; together they headed toward the stairs to greet their guests. “We have time for memorable. Forever is a long, long time.”

***

The unwelcome visitors brought welcome news. But they didn't seem inclined to share. His brothers lounged in the open, casual living room and grinned at each other and Logan and Hanna as they waited for Maria, Logan's housekeeper, to bring them food.

Vultures.

But Logan hardly cared if they ate his food and drank his beer. He had Hanna. And she loved him.

He'd meant what he'd said to her. He'd had a crush in high school and lingering obsession that had haunted him all these years. But it was more, much more, now. Knowing her, and getting to know her—in all ways—had changed everything.

He loved her like an ocean, wild and rampant and endless. It hit him, every time he looked at her, in wave after wave.

And she loved him too.

So while his brothers ate their stupid tamales and drank their stupid beer and smirked amongst themselves, he sat next to Hanna, his arm around her, toying with the little curls at her nape. Every once in a while she would look up at him, her eyes wide and gleaming, as though tears were not far.

But he knew they were happy tears.

After years of wanting her, years of dreaming of this, she was his. That was all that mattered. Whatever news his brothers brought, they could handle it. Together.

It wasn't until after they'd all eaten a full plate of tamales and had at least one beer apiece that Rafe gusted a sigh and said, “Well, it's over.”

Hanna stiffened at his side. Logan tightened his hold. “What happened?” he asked, his tone clipped.

Ben huffed a laugh, but it wasn't much of a laugh. “He came back. The idiot came right the fuck back.”

Brandon dipped a chip in guacamole and crunched into it. Through a full mouth that would make their mother cringe, he added, “And he brought accelerant.”

“And matches.”

Hanna went stiff. “W-what happened?” Logan heard the horror in her tone. He rubbed her back.

“He set the restaurant on fire.”

She went white. Her gaze snapped to Logan. Her lips parted. “No. Not your beautiful creation . . .” The tears were real now. They welled in her stunning eyes and trickled down her cheeks.

He wiped them away. “It doesn't matter, honey,” he murmured. Nothing mattered but her, and she was here. With him. Safe. Horror curled in his gut at the thought that Zack could have executed his revenge while she'd been inside. “We can rebuild it.”

Ben barked a laugh. “No need for that.”

Hanna's chin snapped up, and Logan's with it. “What?”

Brandon took another slug of his beer. “Did I mention Pucey is an idiot?”

“Did you need to?” Rafe asked dryly.

“He set the fire against the west wall.”

“Really?” Logan couldn't hold back a barked laugh, which his brothers shared.

Hanna looked from one to the other, bewilderment in her eyes. “What's so funny about that?”

“Because, darling,” Logan said, dropping a kiss on her sweet lips. “The fireplace in on the west wall.”

“Cement and river rock,” Ben added.

“Nothing remotely flammable.” Brandon toyed with his beer bottle. “Burned up his kindling pretty good, though.”

“What's better is, he was too busy fanning the blaze to notice Grant pulling up behind him in the squad car.” Ben slapped his knee. “Should'a seen his face when he turned around.”

“Bottom line?” Rafe's grin was wicked. “He's been arrested for arson. And you know what?” His gaze zeroed in on Hanna.

“What?” she asked in a small voice, but Logan could tell she was holding back something that looked like a smile.

“This ain't Snake Gully. His pa don't own the law here.”

“He's going to prison,” Ben chortled.

Rafe held up a hand. “We don't know he's going to prison, but he's been charged. I'm sure he'll have a fair trial.”

Logan's gaze narrowed on his brother. “Why are you smirking like that?”

“You remember the copper theft we had a while back?”

Logan nodded. That had cost a pretty penny.