Say You'll Marry Me

Logan’s fingers nearly crushed the phone. “Let me guess,” he bit out with heavy sarcasm. “You’re calling to make me an offer.”

“Yes.” The man’s tone was cautious, confused. “One of our artists was in my office when I played your demo, and he’s excited to record the second song. In fact—”

He cut him off with a snort of humorless laughter. “Good story. That your idea, or did Joy tell you to say that to sell it to me?”

“Sell what to you?”

“I’m a farmer, Mr. Baxter, not an idiot. And you can take your phony offer and shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

Chapter 20

‡

Joy breathed an exhausted sigh of relief when she and her grandma reached the tree line on the trail that led from the pond to the ranch house. Sweet Pea trotted ahead of them, the pig’s curlicue tail twitching while she led the way home as if she hadn’t been lost in the woods the entire morning.

It had been shortly after nine when Joy took a quick bathroom break and came back out to an empty living room. Her heart had plummeted to her stomach when her grandma didn’t answer her calls. Then she’d spotted her red sweater through the picture window, and ran after her before the older woman became swallowed up by the swirling fog.

Talking Gram back to the house proved impossible when she was frantic to find her precious princess. She refused to go back or even wait so Joy could grab her phone. A jacket would’ve been nice, too. The quick trip out to the pond had turned into hours of tromping through the woods in search of the pot-bellied pain in the ass.

Thankfully, the sun burned off the fog so they didn’t end up lost after finding Sweet Pea nosing around an oak stand for acorns. Joy was tired, cold, and hungry, not to mention anxious to see what time it was because of the farm sale scheduled for noon. She’d texted Logan a quick “Thinking of you,” earlier, but hadn’t heard back—that she knew of.

Now that she and Gram were home, her mind went back to worrying how he’d handle the day. While he was singing the other night, she’d seen the realization hit how much he loved the place, and knew how hard it would be on him to lose his family home. He’d refused to talk about the sale since then, other than insisting he wouldn’t attend.

Grandpa met them in the yard, concern deepening the lines bracketing his mouth and across his forehead. “Where have you two been? I came home from town, and no one was around. I was about to call the sheriff.”

Grandma went into his arms for a hug. “Oh, Albert, don’t be so dramatic. We just went for a little walk is all. I am tired, though, so I think I’ll go take a nap.”

Arms hugged over her middle to ward off the lingering chill of the woods, Joy met his gaze over Gram’s shoulder and shook her head to let him know it was more than that. Which he already knew, otherwise she would’ve left a note.

He briefly closed his eyes, then put on a smile and turned Gram in his arms to lead her inside. “I’ll fix you some tea, June-Bug. Joy, you might want to check your phone. You got a call when I first got back, and it rang again when I spotted you two out the window. Might be Logan.”

“Thanks, Grandpa.”

She followed them inside, rubbing her bare arms to warm up. Dismayed to see it was already one o’clock, she scooped up her cell and checked the screen on her way into the kitchen. Three missed calls, a voicemail, and a text from Tara two minutes ago.

Robert Persky just won the bid at $470k.

Damn it. Anyone but the Persky’s. She thumbed back through her missed calls to see if any had been Logan. Nope—all Kevin.

Desperate to hear from Logan, she moved on to the voicemail.

“Loved the songs, babe, but the bastard just hung up on me when I called to offer him a deal. What the hell? Call me. Time is of the essence.”

Oh.My.God. He didn’t.

Joy’s heart catapulted into her throat. She grabbed her coat and hurried out onto the porch to call Kevin back. Before she could even hit send, Logan’s truck careened into the drive.

Shit.

Feeling like she was going to hyperventilate, she hurried down the steps to meet him closer to the barn. He skidded to a stop and jumped out of the truck to storm toward her through the dust cloud billowing from his tires. If she thought he’d been angry after the bank, now he was livid.

His brown eyes were red-rimmed, furious, and—her breath caught—a little broken.

“Logan, I can explain.”

“Explain how you went behind my back again?”

“No.” She cringed. “Kind of. But it’s not what you think—”