Say You'll Marry Me

She’d hesitated before answering. Not because she had to think about her answer, but because the note of accusation in his voice caught her off guard. As if how she felt about her ex mattered to him.

Did it?

By the time she recovered enough to say, “Of course not,” nerves had made her voice all stilted and insincere sounding, and he couldn’t seem to get off the phone fast enough.

One stupid little pause ruined the whole friendly, flirty vibe they’d had going. And all day today, he hadn’t made one attempt to come to the house to say hello. Yes, he’d been busy cutting hay in the back fields, but the two times she’d seen him out in the ranch yard, he hadn’t even so much as tossed a glance toward the house.

She leaned back to check the living room to make sure Gram was still engrossed in her new waterfall puzzle, then cursed under her breath when she saw her coming down the hall with her purse and fall jacket. She’d mentioned picking up Sweet Pea’s bed once

already, but Joy had managed to distract her. Apparently, not well enough.

“I’m all ready to go, dear.”

“Gram, I’m in the middle of the spaghetti sauce.”

“But we have to get to the store before Bev closes.”

She didn’t point out the brand new bed off to the left because her grandmother would only insist Joy didn’t know what she was talking about and get angry for treating her like a child. “How about we go tomorrow? We could have lunch, and maybe check out the shops.”

Gram gave her a dark look as she lifted the keys off the hook by the door. “You go tomorrow. I’m going today.”

Shoot. She’d have to talk to Grandpa about moving the car keys. Joy quickly turned off the stove and placed a cover over the pot before rushing out into the garage after her grandmother. “Grandma, you can’t go by yourself.”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I am a grown woman. If I want to go to town, I’ll go to town.”

“I know, Gram, but…” She blocked the car door as she pulled out her phone to try to avoid a complete meltdown.

“Joy Marie, you get out of my way.”

“Just wait a minute, okay?” She held up a placating hand as she frantically scrolled to find the number she’d programmed in last night. There. She hit send and listened for it to start ringing. “I’m calling Logan to come with. He wanted to taste cakes with us, so we can stop at the coffee shop.”

“You don’t get wedding cakes at a coffee shop.”

“Carrie did Lauren and Caleb’s cake last month, remember? We’re just getting ideas for the wedding, Gram, and we want you to help us pick.”

She hesitated. The expression on her face softened enough that Joy was hopeful she’d averted the worst of her mutiny. If Logan would ans—

“What?”

She pasted on a smile in the face of his less than welcoming greeting. “Hi. Just checking to see if you’re ready to go into town with me and Gram for the cake-tasting like we’d planned? Gram’s practically in the car already.”

Silence greeted her long enough that she would’ve checked to see if the call was lost if it weren’t for the sound of the tractor engine in the background. As seconds ticked by, she wondered if he’d heard her.

Finally, a sigh came across the line. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Great. Thanks, honey.” Joy added emphasis on the honey just for spite, then disconnected without giving him a chance to respond. He wanted to act like an ass again, she’d sugar him to death.

She turned to her grandma and reached to take the keys. “Logan will be here in a few minutes, okay? Let’s wait inside so I can leave a note for Grandpa. Plus, I need to check the spaghetti sauce.”

Thankfully, Grandma didn’t argue any further. As they waited, Joy wrote the note, put the sauce away for when they got home, and then made a furtive call to Carrie to see if she could set up an impromptu tasting with whatever cakes she had on hand. As expected, Tara and Jenny had discreetly passed the word amongst their friends, so Carrie was aware of the situation and assured her she’d pull something together.

When Logan arrived, they met him out in the garage. She swept her gaze over his faded T-shirt, threadbare jeans, and scuffed work boots. She didn’t mind the way they clung to his muscled physique one bit, but it wasn’t fair how good the man looked in such scruffy clothes.

“Problem?” he challenged.

She jerked her gaze up, noting his hair ruffled from the wind. “No.”

His brown gaze narrowed. “I was working in the field. What did you expect?”