Say You'll Marry Me

He nodded as he pulled back. She turned for the upstairs, but not before the moisture in his eyes made a lump of emotion swell in her throat.

The time ahead of them would be hard, so they had to make the best of every moment they could. It was why she’d left her nursing job in Nashville and moved back home last May.

That, and the fact she’d dumped her fiancé the week before the wedding when she caught him with his secretary in his office. So damn clichéd it was pathetic. Then she found out he’d siphoned over fifty thousand dollars from her accounts under the guise of paying for their wedding arrangements. The thieving, cheating bas—

“Stop,” she muttered on her way upstairs to grab a long-sleeved, cotton shirt. “No thinking about Luke today.”

She was over him anyway. Over having her heart broken time and again by men who made her fall for them until they found someone ‘better.’ It seemed there was always someone, something, or somewhere ‘better.’

Bitterness—and the lingering ache in her chest because she really had loved him at one point—made her frown on her way out the back door. She was done with love. If she couldn’t have what her grandparents had, then forget it. Who needed a man anyway?

Not her.

Then she turned the corner and caught sight of Logan tossing hay bales onto the elevator as effortlessly as if each one were a box of Styrofoam packing peanuts. The play of muscles under his already sweat-dampened T-shirt made her mouth go dry. Her heart rate kicked up, and her step faltered.

After a moment of hesitation, she resumed her stride with determination. It didn’t matter how physically attractive the man was, she’d be cured the moment he opened his mouth.

“Good morning,” she forced out in a cheerful voice.

His brown gaze flicked in her direction before he tossed another bale onto the elevator. If it hadn’t been for that brief second of eye contact, she would’ve thought he hadn’t heard her over the loud machinery. See? Sometimes he didn’t even have to speak to give her libido a figurative cold shower.

“Where do you want me?” she hollered above the noise.

In the middle of reaching for wrapping his fingers around the strings of another bale, he went still for the space of a few heartbeats, then leaned his weight forward onto his hands and dipped his head to peer at her under his arm. “What?”

It took effort to keep her gaze from lingering on his nicely-defined, denim covered ass. “I said, where do you want me? Up in the loft or on the wagon?”

His eyes narrowed before he straightened with a jerk, hefting the bale to swing it onto the elevator. “I don’t need help.”

Joy was pretty sure he added something else, but she couldn’t make out the words over the rattling of the metal tracks carrying the hay into the loft. She rolled her eyes and strode toward the barn while tugging on a pair of gloves. From the corner of her eye, she saw Logan pause again to watch her go. Then he shook his head and resumed work.

Idiot shouldn’t look a gift-horse in the mouth. It wasn’t like she was going to take paid hours away from him by helping, there was plenty to keep him busy around the ranch.

She climbed the ladder into the dusty loft and started hauling bales from the haphazard pile spilling off the top end of the elevator. From there, she lugged them to the corner where they’d left off stacking from the previous cutting of hay in early August.

It had been years since she put up hay, but she quickly got into the rhythm of lift, haul, stack, and go back for another. The sweet scent of fresh baled alfalfa filled the air, bringing back memories of helping Grandpa fill the loft so many summers ago. They’d had less horses back then, before he’d started rescuing neglected animals, and once the work was done, they used to go for a swim down at the pond to cool off and rinse away the grime.

Thinking of the clear, cool water was torture as the heat of exertion and rising air temperature sent trickles of sweat down her back and between her breasts. Her tank top stuck to her skin, but she left the long-sleeved cotton shirt on to keep the hay from scratching her arms.

She had no hope of keeping up with the rate Logan sent the forty-pound bales up, especially when she had to climb the three-deep stack already layered in the loft. Her arms, back, and legs were going to kill her tomorrow, but she determinedly dragged bale after bale up her make-shift stairs made of hay to start on levels four, five, and six.

Sudden silence took over, telling her Logan had finally emptied the wagon and shut off the elevator. A moment later, his boots thumped on the metal contraption as he climbed up to join her in the loft. On her way back across the top layer, she caught his glance toward her tidy stack and was proud of the progress she’d made.

The slip of her boot heel into one of the holes between bales made her lose her balance. She caught herself with a flail of her arms, thankful not to fall in front of him and look like an idiot. Navigating the holes where the four corners of the nested bales met was difficult, but she’d gotten the hang of it again—so long as she paid attention.

Logan didn’t say a word, just grabbed the closest bale and tossed it up to her. It rolled into her shins, nearly sending her backwards onto her butt. She bent to grab hold of the strings with a muttered, “Gee, thanks.”

“I don’t have all day.”

Ass.

Biting her tongue, she hefted the bale, carefully making her way across the uneven surface of the hay to stack it with the others.

Ten minutes later, she was relieved to see him toss up the last of the load as she grabbed her next bale. After placing it, she backed down off the forth layer and turned around to go get another.

The surprise of coming face to face with Logan sent her back a step—right into one of the corner holes she’d previously managed to avoid. Her foot sunk, wedging between the bales as she fell back against the hay. The twist of her ankle made her gasp in surprise and pain.

He tossed aside his bale and was at her side in a moment. “You okay?”