Say You'll Marry Me

“A half-million dollars isn’t a favor, Joy. It’s charity!”

“It is not.”

“It is. You know it. And if I take your money, the whole damn frickin’ town is gonna know it.”

“What do you care about what people in town think?”

A flicker of discomfort in his expression told her he cared a lot more than she ever would’ve guessed.

“You’re one to talk when you won’t even tell anyone that June is sick.”

“I don’t give a flying fig what they think, but she does.”

“Exactly. Which is why I told you we do this my way, or not at all.”

The words sunk in, and she began to see the bigger picture. Not what she’d have expected from him, but his refusal of the money made a little more sense now. Well, no, not sense, otherwise he’d let her help, but if she took into consideration the lack of money he’d grown up with, and his financial troubles now, she understood where his misguided pride might be coming from.

Misguided being the key word.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I was just trying—”

“It doesn’t matter what you were trying to do,” he cut in, not in the least bit mollified by her attempt to ease the tension. “Just because we’re engaged—fake engaged,” he quickly amended, “—doesn’t give you the right to butt into my business.”

“You’re right. And I—”

“And you will call Brian Thomas and tell him not to transfer that money. I’ll be the one to pay off the mortgage, not you.”

She was trying to apologize, and he was being an ungrateful, stubborn jackass. Joy crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight to one foot. “Oh yeah? And how are you going to do that?”

His eyes narrowed at the challenge. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

Yeah, right. Short of a miracle lottery win, he didn’t stand a chance in hell of coming up with five hundred grand in the next ten days. But then again…something she’d been thinking about rushed to her tongue. “What about your music?”

That tell-tale muscle in his jaw tensed. “What about my music?”

His emphasis on my warned her she was treading dangerous ground. Right now, she didn’t care. “You could try to sell it. I’m assuming you have more than one song written, right? I have a friend in Nashville. I can have him—”

“My God, you just don’t stop, do you?” He turned toward the barn, arms raised to rake his hands through his hair.

“What?” She relaxed her defensive stance and took a step after him. “Why won’t you let me help?”

“For one, I don’t want a damn thing to do with your sonofabitch ex.”

“Luke isn’t the guy. I said friend.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m done.” Dropping his arms back down, Logan swung around to face her. His gaze swept the length of her as he waved his hand to indicate the dress. “With this…all of this. We’re done.”

Her heart lurched in panic. “No—”

“If I’m not helping you, you’ve got no reason to help me.”

“You can’t change your mind now.”

“I changed it a half-hour ago at the bank.” One more spin and he started down the stairs.

She hurried after him, then almost tripped on her dress before bending to scoop up the train. “Logan, don’t. Please.”

He didn’t stop.