“Passing time?” That’s what she thought he was doing with her?
“Yes! Unless you’re planning to stick around after the farm is sold?”
“We’re supposed to be engaged,” he ground out. “I don’t have much of a choice but to stick around, do I?”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong, jackass. You’ve got as much of a choice in that as you’ve had in everything else.”
She spun on her heel and stalked to the house. He slammed into his truck and hit the gas hard enough the tires spit gravel on his way out of the driveway.
At home, he kept going over their argument. How the hell was he the jackass? She was the one who was scared to let everyone see what they had together.
He halted in his tracks on the way out to the barn. She’s scared.
Sonofabitch.
After what had happened with her ex in Nashville, the request to keep things between them made sense. Especially now that he knew she was worried about what he was going to do after the farm was sold. But it wasn’t like he could tell her about some grand plan when he hadn’t thought about it a whole lot.
Lie to her, but not yourself, idiot.
Logan continued up into the barn and sought solace in the hayloft. Any semblance of peace eluded him when he caught sight of the blanket where he and Joy had made love on Saturday night. Two nights since. Yet, if he closed his eyes, he was right there, kissing her warm skin, tasting her passion, and loving the heat of her as she welcomed him inside her body.
He groaned and opened his eyes.
Fine. Hell yes, he’d thought about what he was going to do—he just didn’t have an answer he could live with yet. He wanted to stay, now more than anything. The more than generous wage Al Dolinski paid him would cover an apartment in town and living expenses, but the more than presented the crux of that problem. Dating her while living off her family’s money didn’t look right. Didn’t feel right.
How is that any different than what you’re doing now?
It wasn’t, damn it. And people in town judged him either way. People like Edna, and Millie, and even Tara Carter.
Then Grant Walker’s words from outside the pharmacy echoed in his mind. “It’d be nice if you stuck around town.”
The guy didn’t have to come back and say that when they’d already parted ways. Hadn’t had to tell him their circle of friends respected him for helping out Joy, either. But he had, so maybe the whole town wasn’t judging him to the point he came up short, just the old biddies—and his fake fiancée.
“You don’t seem to be doing a damn thing to keep your farm.”
Of course she didn’t know he’d talked to the bank, and Wes Carter, and even checked into selling his songs. He didn’t tell her because he didn’t want her to know what a failure his efforts had been. The way it stood now, the foreclosure was on his dad’s shoulders. Not that he blamed his father, but the mortgages and medical bills and back taxes weren’t anything Logan could’ve fixed. The hole had been dug too deep.
If he was being honest with himself, that was a good part of why he’d refused help from both her and her grandfather. Because if he took the money and he still couldn’t make the place profitable, it would all become his failure.
And maybe it was better he and Joy kept things between themselves, too. When he screwed that up, as it seemed inevitable he would, no one would be the wiser. Best for everyone concerned.
Except his heart, because that hole had been dug too deep already, too—and he had no one to blame but himself.
Chapter 18
‡
Joy glanced over her shoulder at the sound of footsteps entering the kitchen behind her. “Morning, Grandpa. Coffee’s ready.”
“Breakfast, too, from the smell of it.”
“Just have to add the cheese.” She stirred the hash browns, eggs, and bacon combination before sprinkling shredded cheddar over the top. While her grandpa poured his cup of coffee, she set the covered pan on the table so the cheese could melt. “Gram up yet?”
“Your grandma seems to have caught a bit of a cold, so she’s sleeping in this morning.”
Concern brought her around from rinsing her empty mug at the sink. “Do you want me to stay home today?”
“No, no. It’s just the sniffles.”