“Ah, yeah,” she whispered as he pulled her upright with dramatic flair that left her completely off-balance. He gave her a wink and a slap on the ass, and strode away.
Joy gripped the back of the chair next to her, staring after him in amazement. Who the hell was that guy?
“Hypothetical my ass.” Tara moved into her line of vision. “You are so not getting out of this explanation.”
/> Chapter 6
‡
Logan’s gaze shifted from the smoothed out yellow notepad paper on his dresser, to the ring laying in his palm. Abruptly, he fisted his hand and shoved the jeweled silver band in his pocket.
In for a penny…
He strode downstairs, out the door, and through the rain to his truck. An absent swipe of his hand brushed the water from his hair before he reached for the gear shift. On the drive back to the Dolinski’s, he wondered how the hell he’d gone from saying barely two words to Joy all summer, to being engaged to her, kissing her in front of Gossip Central, and then slapping her on the ass on his way out in a matter of days?
June—that’s how.
When her grandmother’s face clouded with confusion in front of everyone, and that old biddy Edna made the comment about being off her rocker, he didn’t have the heart to let her flounder. He’d seen the emotional toll the dementia took on her when awareness sparked. He’d heard the pain in Joy’s voice as she tried to smooth over the situation.
He could pretend for a little while if it kept that happy smile on June’s face. He’d deal with the whispers about him behind his back—and to his face. He was used to Edna Persky and her sister Millie Swanson looking down on his family, so they were nothing new. After the sale, he wouldn’t be around long enough afterward for their barbs to matter anymore, and at least the ruse would spare June.
Turning into the driveway, he recalled the dazed expression on Joy’s face when she’d opened her eyes after the kiss. Yeah, okay, if he wanted to be completely honest with himself, compassion for her grandmother only explained the half of it. His ego was to blame for the other half of his rash decision.
After stewing all night over her ‘I just wanted you to say yes’ comment, no way could he let her get away with using that excuse to explain her enthusiastic response in his hayloft. She didn’t want to be attracted to him, but she was, and he was going to exploit that passion for all it was worth.
When he’d finished his talk with Al about an upcoming horse adoption and left ten minutes ago, he’d spotted Joy’s turquoise sweater as she dashed through the rain to the barn. Betting she was still inside, he parked near the open double doors. After a glance toward the house, he ducked through the downpour at a jog to avoid getting too chilled. The storm had brought a drop in temperature, and he hadn’t grabbed a jacket.
The orange tabby cat named Whiskers ignored him as she licked a paw to wash behind her ear while her four kittens scampered out of sight at the stomp of his boots. Another swipe through his hair left it damp as he scanned the stalls for Joy’s red curls.
“Hey—you still in here?” he called, raising his voice to be heard above the rain drumming on the tin roof and the occasional low rumble of thunder outside.
Chester and Buster stuck their heads over their stall doors and whickered a welcome. In the stall next to the Palomino, Joy’s black mare, Grace, barely spared him a glance as her ear twitched. He reached out to stroke Buster’s blond nose while checking the other side of the barn.
“Joy?”
He was about to return to his truck when he heard a faint, “Up here.”
After a final rub for Buster, Logan turned around and made his way to the ladder. His pulse skipped a beat as he climbed into the hayloft, but he ignored that little leap of anticipation, and strolled across the dusty floor.
Joy sat on the hay near the open loft doors, one knee drawn up as she leaned against the bales stacked behind her. With his approach, she pulled a spoon from her mouth and stuck it back in the small tub of ice cream in her hand. Her hazel gaze watched as he hopped up beside her, scooted back against the hay, and mirrored her pose. Almost immediately, the heat of her body next to his seeped through his clothes.
He took a discreet breath to calm his over-excited heartbeat. The situation was too uncertain, considering, far as he knew, girls ate ice cream straight from the tub to drown their sorrows after a break up, not an engagement announcement.
When she didn’t speak, he reached over and took the spoon to scoop up a bite of the melting green goo. “I figured we should talk,” he said after licking the spoon.
“You mean get our story straight after you blindsided me in front of everyone back there?”
“Something like that.” The ice cream was good—mint with a swirl of smooth, chocolate fudge—but he could think of something else he’d rather taste. As he reached to put the spoon back, he noticed the large rock on her left hand ring finger.
The sight of it annoyed the hell of him, and he shoved the spoon into the container a bit harder than necessary.
She tossed him a frown.
He nodded toward the ring. “That from Luke?”
When she turned her hand to look at the diamond, she almost spilled the melted ice cream all over her jeans. Quickly righting the tub, she muttered, “Yeah.”
“Well, you can take it off.”