Say You'll Marry Me

However, without her grandma’s illness confusing him for Luke, they probably would’ve continued down the same distant, parallel paths they’d been on all summer. Just because they were fake together now didn’t mean anything would continue once the sham was over.

Especially with the foreclosure sale looming ever closer.

That thought made him frown. A week ago—hell, two days ago—he’d convinced himself he’d done everything he could to save the farm and accepted the fact it was over. Time to move on.

Then Joy had questioned him in the barn, and he’d felt the need to defend himself.

I’ve got a couple weeks yet. It’s not like I’ve completely given up.

But he had.

And now, with his mother’s engagement ring on the finger of a woman he could never have, suddenly he wished he hadn’t. There had been a fleeting moment when he’d actually considered he might have a chance; then he found out her ex was a lawyer. Granted, the guy was a scumbag, but still, a frickin’ lawyer, while he was a farmer who couldn’t even keep his own damn land.

You still have almost two weeks.

But, realistically, what could he do in a matter of eleven days?

Anything is more than you’ve done in the past three months.

He was ashamed to admit that was true.

Starting today, that was going to change. He put his notepad and guitar away and completed all the morning chores at his place before heading over to the Dolinski’s at eight-thirty. When he pulled into the driveway, his pulse picked up at the thought of seeing Joy.

Seemed he hadn’t quite gotten himself off that dangerous road that would likely lead to his heart taking a hit, not hers.

The garage doors were open, and both Al’s SUV and her car were gone. Logan ignored his disappointment as he turned out the horses so he could muck stalls. The tractor needed an oil change, and the gate on the back pasture needed a new hinge, but he’d get them done later. Once he finished the chores that couldn’t wait, he went home to shower and change into his best jeans, a light blue dress shirt, and his navy sport coat. He debated a tie, but decided against looking like he was trying too hard. It would make him seem desperate.

Which is exactly what you are.

On the road into Redemption, he passed Al and June coming home, and a mile later, Joy’s little red convertible whizzed past, too. He frowned in the rearview mirror. She’d always driven way too fast—probably because she could afford the speeding tickets.

That thought kept his frown in place the rest of his ride into town. He turned onto Salvation Avenue, drove past Carrie’s coffee shop and Wilde’s Veterinary Clinic, before parking a half-block from the bank. He headed up the steps, and even though he’d left the tie at home, it still felt like it was choking him.

He reached to adjust his hat, remembered he wasn’t wearing one, and ran his fingers through his hair instead. Three steps inside the lobby and a glimpse to his left made him want to dive behind the large fern to his right.

“Hello, Logan. A little late, aren’t you?”

Late for missing you? Why, yes, I am, damn it.

He pasted a smile on his face and turned around to face Edna Persky and her sister, Millie Swanson. They each wore a scrunched up, crabby, old woman face—the same expressions they’d directed at the Walshes for years. Lucky for them, his mother had taught him manners before she died.

“Ladies. Good morning.”

Despite the top of her head not even reaching his chin, Millie still managed to look down her hawk-like nose at him—and she was not just peering over her glasses. “I hear you’re actually engaged.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, the luck o’ the Irish,” she sneered. “Landing the one girl in town who could bail you out.”

He grit his teeth to keep his smile in place. “I am a lucky man, but not in the way you’re implying.”

“At least we were able to see the ring this morning,” Edna snipped. “How did you ever afford it?”

Logan silently apologized to his mother and gave up any pretense of being nice. “That, Edna, is none of your business.”

She drew back at the unconcealed reproach in his tight voice. “Excuse me. It was a simple question.”

“And I gave you a simple answer.”