Cowboy Truth: Cowboy Justice Association #3 (16 page)

“What would you do if I wasn’t happy?” Ava challenged. “You can’t make me be happy. I have to find that on my own. Do you worry about Mary like this?”

Ava’s mother shook her head. “Not in the same way. You and Mary are very different people. Her idea of happiness is not the same as yours. You’ll only be happy when you find love.”

“Love?” Ava echoed. “Mom, I’m not a woman who needs a man in her life. I do fine on my own.”

“I didn’t say you needed a man. I’m sure you can kill your own spiders by now. I’m talking about a man that adores you, who wants to love and protect you. A man that thinks you hung the moon.”

Ava couldn’t think of one man she’d ever dated that fit that description.

“I don’t see that happening. Modern men don’t do that.”

“Then find an old-fashioned one. I’m sure they’re out there. But you have to leave the house to look.” Ava’s mother teased.

“I leave the house. You know I’ve been helping Logan with the Bryson murder.”

Although after this morning Ava wasn’t sure she would ever see Logan again. He’d been kind but a man like him would feel vulnerable after what he’d revealed to her.

“That’s true. It would be nice if you stayed here for awhile. I’m selfish enough to want both my daughters close.”

“I’m not leaving right away,” Ava assured her. “Now can I have a bite of your cheesecake?”

Carol laughed and pushed the plate across the table. “As long as I can have a bite of your tiramisu.”

Ava slid her own plate into the middle of the table. They were happily munching away on their fattening desserts when they heard voices from the next table.

“She’s been spending a lot of time with the sheriff,” one voice said. “A lot of time, if you know what I mean.”

“I heard she went dancing with him at the roadhouse the other night. Shocking,” the second voice said, her tone prissy and uptight. “A nice girl like her with a playboy like him. Next thing you know he’ll get her in trouble and leave her for a prettier face.”

“Hmmm, he usually dates the more glamorous ones,” the first voice responded. Ava could feel her anger rising and heat suffused her entire body. These busy-bodies were obviously talking about her. She didn’t like it one bit and it was all she could do not to turn around in her chair and let them know how rude they were being.

Ava gritted her teeth and set her fork on the table, her appetite vanished. Her mother was looking at her very calmly and finally said, “Is Logan Wright a playboy? I know he appears that way on the surface but one never knows what’s underneath.”

Chewing her bottom lip, Ava thought about the question and shook her head. “No. He’s a nice man. He took care of me when I was sick. There’s more to him than meets the eye.”

Ava’s mother smiled. “Being that handsome is certainly enough. Doesn’t seem fair to womankind that he’s not a jerk.”

“I wish he was.” Ava sighed and tried to eat more of her tiramisu. “It would be better for me.”

“You’re falling for him, aren’t you?” her mother asked gently.

There was no censure or judgment in her mother’s tone. It was simply a question.

“I don’t know,” Ava admitted. “If you’d ask me yesterday, I would have said no. I wish I didn’t like him.”

“If wishes were horses,” her mother began.

Ava tried to smile. “I know, beggars would ride.” She’d heard her mother use that saying many times over the years. “I think it’s just a crush.”

“Probably,” her mother nodded in agreement. “Although I would be happy if you fell in love, married the sheriff, and stayed in town.”

Laughter Ava couldn’t contain bubbled up. “Whoa. Just because I have feelings for Logan doesn’t mean he has them for me. I don’t see us setting up housekeeping, Mom. Far from it.”

The two women at the table behind them got up to leave and Ava caught sight of them. Harriet Weatherby and Louise Farmer were two of the biggest gossips in Corville. Louise had the grace to turn pink when she saw that Ava was sitting right next to them. They must not have seen her and her mother sit down.

“Harriet. Louise. How are you today?” Ava’s mother asked politely, looking them right in the eye. “I think we’ll have good weather for the church picnic on Sunday.”

“Indeed we will,” agreed Harriet, sneaking glances at Ava out of the corner of her eye. “This weather we’ve been having the last few weeks has been excellent. I don’t remember a stretch this long since oh, ninety-eight, I think.”

Louise shook her head. “It was ninety-six. That’s the year that Jackson boy ran off with—”

Louise broke off abruptly as if talking about someone else’s exploits would reveal she’d been talking about Ava’s.

Harriet rushed in to cover the gaffe. “I hope you’re going to make your famous pistachio salad, Carol. I look forward to it every year.”

“I am. I think Ava’s going to make a chocolate cake as well.”

Both women nodded enthusiastically as if they hadn’t tasted cake in years. Louise waved toward the door. “Well, we must be off. See you Sunday!”

The two women exited the diner and headed quickly down the street, probably already talking about Ava and her mother. Some people just never learned to keep things to themselves.

“I hope you marry Logan Wright and have ten kids and thirty grandchildren, dying in each other’s arms when you’re a hundred years old.” Her mother was staring out the window of the diner at the retreating figures of Louise and Harriet.

Ava laughed at her mother’s outraged expression. “I really don’t see that happening. Logan and I are just friends.”

Even saying it made her depressed. She wasn’t sure it was enough anymore.

Carol Hayworth snorted in disgust. “I’d love to tell those two busy-bodies that my daughter had tamed the biggest man-whore in town.”

“Mother!” Ava exclaimed, appalled and amused at the same time. “Such language.”

Carol Hayworth laughed and picked up her handbag and car keys. “There was a time, Ava, before I met your father that I was young. I knew how to have fun. I also liked the bad boys.”

Her eyes had a faraway look to them as if she was remembering past glories. Ava clapped her hand to her forehead. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

Her mother stood and Ava followed suit, hoping this bizarre exchange was at an end. She didn’t need to picture her mother on the back of a Harley. It was disturbing. And creepy.

“Just know you get this from me, dear.” Her mother led the way out of the diner. “You’re not doing anything that hasn’t been done before. You kids didn’t invent sex, you know.”

“For the love of God, please stop,” Ava groaned. “I don’t want to hear this.”

They walked toward the car and Ava’s mother simply laughed at her daughter’s mortified expression. “I never knew you were such a prude. I think Logan Wright has come along just in time.”

*   *   *   *

Logan opened a box and pulled out a stack of manila folders, handing half to Ava. “We need to get through these financial records so we can start on the files in the attic. This is the last of it.”

She’d been surprised to get Logan’s call earlier asking for more help on the case. His impassive features gave no clue as to whatever emotions he might be hiding. He appeared calm and in control at the moment, nothing like the man he’d been the night before. She knew better. He was suppressing his emotions, skating along the surface like he always did.

The only time he’d shown any emotion was when he’d told her about the ballistics report. George Bryson had been shot by an as yet unidentified serial killer performing vigilante style murders. Apparently the murderer had shot more than a dozen victims in the last ten months.

“We haven’t found anything yet,” she countered, flipping the file open and starting to peruse the contents. “I’m beginning to think there’s nothing here.”

Logan opened the fridge, pulled out two cans of soda and popped them open before sliding one to her side of the kitchen island. “I’m starting to think that myself. So far I haven’t seen anything I wouldn’t expect. It’s frustrating as shit.”

Logan started on his own file and the silence stretched on as they worked. It was hell being so close to him but not being able to help him with the pain he surely felt. The words were dancing on the paper in front of her and she finally couldn’t keep the question from bursting from her lips.

“Are you okay?”

He looked up, his eyes narrowing. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“You know.” She wasn’t sure how to say it, how to break through the wall he’d built between them. She’d felt it the moment she’d arrived, a polite facade she wanted to shatter. “With everything that’s gone on in the last few days, well, I was wondering how you were doing.”

He looked back down at the file, dismissing her concerns. “Leave it alone, Ava.” His tone had a hard edge but she was in too deep to stop now.

“Ignoring it won’t make anything better.”

A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Typical. Get back to work.”

“What do you mean
typical
? How am I typical?” She completely abandoned the pretense of working. Denying his emotions wasn’t going to help him in the long run. He was being stubborn and she hated stubborn men. At this moment he reminded her of her father.

Logan looked up again, his blue eyes almost black. “A typical woman. Women are always asking what I’m thinking or what I’m feeling. But they don’t really want to know.”

“I do want to know,” Ava insisted, grabbing his hand with her own. “I’m worried about you.”

Logan snatched his hand back and got up from the barstool to prowl the kitchen. “Right. When a woman says she wants to know what I’m thinking, what she’s really saying is she wants me to know what
she’s
thinking. She wants me to know what
she’s
feeling. Feigning interest in me is just a game to get me entangled in her life. It’s a test, Ava, and I don’t like being tested.” He stopped and whirled toward her, his teeth gritted together. “Women are always trying to get me to be more involved than I am. Basically honey, I’m not that deep. I like to drink. I like to fuck. And I like riding my bike and being alone. That’s it. I’m not any more complicated than that.”

Ava didn’t know whether to hit him or hug him. She was pissed that he still lumped her in with every other woman he knew. But another part of her, a big part of her, wanted to pull him into her arms and tell him that every woman didn’t want something from him.

“I’m not trying to do that,” she said evenly. “I truly am concerned. I don’t want to tell you about my feelings.” Boy, was that the truth. “I just can’t imagine going through what you have in the last two days and being hunky-dory. I swear on a stack of all my novels that I’m not trying to test you.”

“So you like me just the way I am?” he taunted. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I don’t like you much at the moment,” she retorted. “You’re being a big horse’s ass right now. You’re spoiled, Logan Wright. You’re a spoiled brat.”

He took a step back, astonishment written on his face. “Spoiled? How in the fuck am I spoiled? You’re the little princess who’s too good for the bad boy.”

Righteous anger that had been building inside her burst open. She shook her finger under his nose. “You’re spoiled. Females have been catering to your whims since you were a teenager. Preening and primping to get your attention, you’ve never had to work for it. Never had to lift a finger to get them to like you. They’ve allowed you to be the shallow playboy you’ve become. It’s fine for now but think of yourself in ten years. You’ll be a pathetic figure, Logan. A middle aged man hitting on young girls in bars. You’ll be a joke.”

Her words were scornful and she hoped they hit home with him painfully. She wanted him to see himself through her eyes. The road he was on was a sad one.

“I never met a woman that was worth changing for.” Logan straightened, his features carved in granite. He knew what to say to inflict the maximum damage. She felt like she’d been punched in the solar plexus, gasping for oxygen.

“I’m sorry,” Ava whispered. “I think that’s a little sad. I also think you have to accept some of the blame for that. You only let women in that will play by your strict set of rules.”

“Have you ever let anyone in?” he jeered. “Ever? I think you’re waiting for a knight in shining armor to sweep you off your feet. You want a man to be perfect, Ava. You’ve set standards so high no man could ever live up to them.”

His words pierced her heart sending pain straight to her soul. She’d let him in, albeit reluctantly, briefly. She hadn’t wanted him to be perfect. Far from it. She’d only wanted him to be what he could be, not this shadow.

“I’ve never wanted a perfect man.” Ava thought of her mother’s words earlier that day. It was funny how a parent knew a child so well. Ava hadn’t even known it herself until this moment. “I’ve only ever wanted a man who had the capacity to love deeply.”

Her shoulders slumped and tears pricked the back of her eyes. Nothing would ever change Logan. He’d been hurt too deeply and too often. The shell around his emotions was thick and she’d be a fool to think she could breach it. This was a battle she wouldn’t win. Logan didn’t want to face what life had thrown at him. She should leave him to live however he wished.

She walked slowly into the living room, slinging her purse over her shoulder, and then toward the front door, not looking back. Each step took her farther from Logan and closer to never seeing him again. Despite what she’d told her mother, there was really nothing to keep her in Corville. She could pack her things tonight and be on the road in the morning.

She was halfway down the porch steps when she felt his hand on her shoulder, the heat scorching her skin through the fabric. She couldn’t look at him and let him see the tears she knew were glistening in her eyes. She couldn’t let him know that he’d gotten to her like this. He wouldn’t welcome it.

“You can’t leave.” Logan’s voice was hoarse, almost choked.

“I have to.” She didn’t elaborate but his fingers tightened, almost bruising the flesh in his urgency.

“Don’t leave me, Ava. I can’t have one more person I care about walk out on me.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks, the pain in her heart almost more than she could bear. She wanted desperately to believe his tortured words but her cautious nature wouldn’t let her turn around and throw herself into his arms. She’d never been this vulnerable before with a man and she didn’t like the feeling one bit. She tried to shore up some sort of defenses but they were in short supply. She’d have to make do with what she had.