Say You'll Marry Me

“You’re sure? Because I don’t have anything specific planned.” Other than going to apologize to Logan.

Last night, she’d turned the argument around on him, said some things she maybe shouldn’t have, all because he’d been right. Well, partly right. She hesitated to tell anyone about their real relationship because once he left, it’d be back to the pity party of…Poor Joy. Another man she couldn’t keep.

Still, it was no reason to make him feel worse than he already did about losing his farm. She knew he’d tried, and had been trying. Tara had even mentioned he’d stopped in to see Wes last week. She’d also texted her on the way home last night: You two should stop faking and just go for it.

Grandpa took a seat at the kitchen table with his mug, drawing her attention back to him as he said, “Yes, I’m sure I’m good until Bonnie gets here.”

The nurse who helped out on Wednesdays and Saturdays arrived at ten, so Joy didn’t feel bad about accepting his refusal. “Okay. Then I’m going to saddle Grace and take a ride.”

He sipped his coffee until she started for the door without eating the breakfast she’d just made. “Joy?”

“Yeah?” She lifted her quilted flannel vest from the nook hook by the door and faced him as she slipped it on.

“You’re not gettin’ yourself in too deep with this whole engagement thing with Logan, are you?”

Her fingers stilled on the third snap. Depends on your definition of too deep. If it didn’t include falling in love with a man who was bound to leave, then she was just dandy. “You don’t need to worry about me, Grandpa.”

“I’ll always worry about you, you know that. It’s my—”

“Job. I know, and I love you for doing it so well.” She finished fastening her vest before lifting her chin to meet his gaze. “The truth is, Logan and I—”

“Aren’t pretending anymore. Yeah, I know. A little hard to miss, girly.”

Her cheeks warmed even as she smiled at his word choice. He didn’t seem upset, but he hadn’t seemed overly enthused about the whole situation, either. “Are you okay with the two of us? I mean, you like him, right?”

“Yes, I like him. He’s a good man. Honest. Hard working. And he’s got a good heart.”

Joy agreed with every bit of his statement. The description summed up everything about Logan she loved.

“However, he’s also got a lot of pride. So much so, I’m afraid it’ll be his downfall, and you’ll wind up hurt in the process. Once his farm is gone, the boy ain’t got much to stick around for.”

She swallowed hard at the blunt statement. He’ll have me. Won’t that be enough?

“I can’t stand to see your heart broke again.”

Joy pasted on a smile as she went to hug him. “My heart will be fine, Gramps. Now, I’m not sure what my day will entail, but if I’m not home for dinner, there’s enough chicken soup from the other night for you and Gram. And, if you get a chance to watch that documentary I told you Logan found, it’s queued up on your computer in the office.”

“Will do.”

“Keep your handkerchief nearby, though. It’s good, but tough to watch in spots.” She’d gone through a handful of tissues herself.

He gave her a solemn nod and a kiss on the cheek before turning to the table to dish up a plate.

Fifteen minutes later, Joy swung up into the saddle on her black mare and nudged Grace into a canter across the field toward Logan’s place. The autumn

wind cooled her face and blew her hair out behind her. Not quite gloves weather, but it would be soon.

As she entered the yard, she spotted him up in the loft, throwing down hay for his small herd of beef cattle. They would be sold next week, too, along with any other assets that could help the bank recoup every possible dollar of debt.

If she didn’t think he’d get mad at her all over again—if he was even done being mad from last night—she’d propose a loan with low interest. But, she could hardly come in with an apology, and then turn around with an offer that would piss him off again.

Stupid pride.

She tied her mare to the hitching rail, then went inside as Logan came down the ladder. They had an hour before he usually showed up at the ranch for work. Plenty of time to sort things out.

He hopped down to clear the last three rungs, and she let her gaze travel the length of him. Boots, jeans, a navy blue, flannel shirt layered over his T-shirt to ward off the morning chill, stubble covered jaw, furrowed brow, and tousled, finger-combed hair at seven-thirty in the morning. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his strong arms and hold onto him so he’d never leave.

He pulled up short when he spotted her, one hand curled tight around a ladder rung. “Hey.”