Matter of Time (13 page)

How did her vehicle escape the fire?

As he fiddled with the keys in his hand, looking for the one that would open the front door—something he hadn’t done since he moved into the house—the door flew open and Maggie charged at him. He saw the launch coming as her feet left the ground, and he dropped his bag just in time to catch her.

She wrapped her tiny legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, nearly choking him, and burst into huge, heartbreaking sobs. Tears and snot ran down the side of his neck and soaked his shirt as his little girl cried herself out in his arms, standing on the sidewalk in front of his house. She was the most sensitive of all of his children, so of course, she would be the one home when the fire broke out.

He stood there for what seemed forever, rocking her back and forth, rubbing her back while reassuring her she was okay. Luke stepped up to the doorway and watched for a minute, then turned, went back inside, and shut the door behind him. Even though he hadn’t said a word, the pain he felt for Maggie had been written all over his face. Logan knew firsthand the natural bond his twins shared, and at some point, he needed to tell Luke it was okay to let Maggie know she wasn’t just a pain in his ass who got “half his birthday presents.”

When the sobs subsided into indelicate sniffles, Maggie leaned back, wiped her eyes, and nodded. “I’m okay now.” She gave him a weak smile and nodded again. “I’ve been trying to be brave for Mama, but I just needed to get it all out.” She drew in a deep, shuddering breath and ran her sleeve across her nose again. “Thanks for letting me cry all over you.”

He laughed, kissed her forehead, and said, “Anytime, pumpkin,” then set her on her bare feet.
My God… does she have shoes?
He couldn’t remember if she’d left any at his house or not, but if she’d been barefoot at home…

He drew in a deep breath and prayed for strength as he picked up his duffel, took her tiny hand in his, and headed toward the front door. Brianna was asleep on the couch, clutching a pillow so tightly to her chest she was about to squeeze the stuffing out of it. Luke was kicked back in Logan’s recliner, trying to play it cool.

After dropping his bag in the foyer, Logan asked Maggie, “You think you can sleep now?”

She nodded, then yawned and moved in to wrap her arms around his waist in a giant hug. “Yeah. Thanks, Daddy. And thanks for coming home early from your trip to Uncle Lucas’s.”

All the guilt he felt for not being home rammed him in the chest and stole his breath again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when it happened.”

She tilted back her head to look up at him and wrinkled up her cute little button nose as her shoulder lifted in a shrug. “There’s nothing you could’ve done anyway, so why are you sorry?”

He smiled and ruffled her hair. “I guess you don’t think I’m Superman anymore, huh?”

She giggled and squeezed his waist again. “I don’t think even Superman could’ve stopped that fire.” Her voice was small and sad as she turned away and climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

“How ya doin’, buddy,” he asked Luke as he swung out of the foyer into the living room. “I thought you were staying at Brian’s tonight.”

Luke shrugged and wiped his cheek across his shoulder, trying to hide the tears reddening his eyes. “I needed to be here with Mama and the girls.” He said it like the man of the house, protecting the
girls
from rogue Indians that might storm the fort. “I wouldn’t have been much fun for Brian anyway.”

Logan pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it over Brianna, then motioned for Luke to follow him into the kitchen. He was glad he and Lizbeth hadn’t split the bottle of wine they contemplated getting at dinner so he was able to drive safely. But by God, he was home now, and he needed a drink. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, tossed Luke a Dr. Pepper, then popped the top and guzzled half the can. After a few minutes of hanging out in the kitchen, a couple of guys drinking away the woes of the day, he said, “Thanks for taking care of things until I got back.”

Luke shrugged. “No biggie.” He played with the tab on his can. “I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t take me with you after all.”

Logan smiled, mostly to himself, and nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. But next time, we’ll all go.”

Luke tried to fight off a yawn, but after losing the battle, he said, “Since you’re home, I’m going to bed now.”

“Thanks for waiting up. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here.” As Luke dumped the rest of his soda in the sink, Logan casually glanced around. “Where’s your mom?”

“She’s in your room. She said she needed a shower to wash off the smoke smell, and she never came back out.”

Logan’s heart
thunked
against the front wall of his chest as a thick, heavy queasiness sank into the pit of his stomach. He’d known when he pulled up and saw her vehicle in the driveway he would find she’d moved in and made herself at home. He also suspected he would find her in his bed, rather than in one of the kids’ beds or on the couch. He couldn’t say he was surprised by what Luke told him, but he was disappointed at being right.

“Get some sleep, pal. I’m going to find your mom.”

If he were a betting man, he’d take thousand-to-one odds he’d not only find Bobbi Jo in his bed, but she’d be naked. And… well, shit… that wasn’t only possible, but probable because, after all, her house and all her clothes had just burned to the friggin’ ground.

First thing tomorrow morning… this morning… as soon as everyone woke up, he’d be maxing out his credit card, getting everyone new wardrobes.

He turned off the television as he backtracked through the living room, then set the lamp’s dimmer switch to the lowest setting so Brianna would know where she was if she woke up before daylight. He grabbed his duffel from the foyer and headed down the hall to his bedroom, then found himself holding his breath as he pushed open the door.

And… yep… there she was, curled up in his bed, her back to the door, bare shoulders and upper back visible above the sheet.

The room was awash in a soft glow from the bedside lamp, which reflected off the highlights of her amber hair. When the door clicked closed, she rolled over to face him, then sat up and pulled the sheet with her. “Hey,” she said, brushing her hair away from her face before she glanced at the clock. “You made good time.”

He forced himself to ease up on the jaw clenching before he cracked a tooth as he dropped his bag next to the dresser. His mind jumped back on the trapeze and he shuffled his feet while searching for a suitable reaction to coming home from the best weekend of his life—which ended with one of his family’s worst nights—to find his soon-to-be ex-wife in his bed… naked.

He scrubbed his hand over his face and flopped down in the chair in the corner, suddenly exhausted. “How are you holding up?”

She swallowed hard and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I’ve never been so scared in my life, Logan.” Her voice cracked and she reached out a hand, indicating she wanted… needed him to come to her, to comfort her.

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to take her hand or hold her in his arms. He wanted to be in Myrtle Beach, holding Lizbeth and making plans for their future. But he wasn’t a cold-hearted bastard, and she needed the same reassurances as Maggie. To not only know she was physically okay, but that he would help her through this catastrophe.

With a heavy heart, he pushed out of the chair and moved to the edge of the bed. She was larger than Maggie, but her reaction was nearly identical, and as soon as he reached the bed, she wrapped her arms around his neck, scooted over so her body was pressed to his, and broke out in big ugly sobs.

“Shh… shh… it’ll be okay.” He scooted up onto the bed, leaned back against the headboard, and cradled her against his side. “I’ve already talked to Joshua, the insurance agent, and he’s going to meet us at the house tomorrow. Well, later today. We’ll get new clothes for you and the kids, and together we’ll figure out where you’re going to live. Until then, you and the kids can stay here.”

The words burned the back of his throat because they were the last thing he wanted to say, the last thing he wanted to promise. But what choice did he have? His family needed help, and he couldn’t turn away from them. Or turn them away.

He didn’t know how Lizbeth would feel about his soon-to-be ex sharing his bed—probably the same way he would if the tables were reversed—but he’d have to figure out all of that later. Right now, he needed a few hours of sleep. So with thoughts of Lizbeth on his mind and her smell still on his skin, he closed his eyes and prayed he’d wake to find this part of the weekend had been a nightmare.

L
ogan moaned with pleasure as Lizbeth’s lips brushed across his, then caressed the edge of his jaw, trailed kisses down his neck, and over his chest. His cock, following the trail and realizing it was the intended target, snapped to attention and twitched, craving the wet heat of her talented mouth. She kissed his nipple and he groaned again as he ran his fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp, then reached for the loose ends of her hair to wrap around his fist.

But something was wrong… She cut her hair? He loved her long hair flowing down her back… or over his chest when she kissed him like this. He loved wrapping the ends around his fist and controlling the tempo of her mouth… the depth. He flexed his fingers again, searching for the extra length, and came up empty. They hadn’t discussed how far they planned to take their Dominance and submission, or if it would extend beyond the bedroom, but he was going to spank her ass until she couldn’t sit for cutting off her hair.

When she licked a path down the center of his stomach and dipped her tongue into his belly button, he flinched and tightened his ab muscles. He didn’t like his belly button tickled this way, and she knew that. She did it once, he told her he didn’t like it, and she hadn’t done it since. So why was she doing it now?

Again he tried to pull on her hair to stop her… but she didn’t have enough for him to grab. What the hell? As his irritation grew, his erection waned. Apparently, his dick wasn’t happy about these developments either.

“What’s the matter, little guy? You don’t want to come out and play anymore?”

Little guy? What the—

A strangled rebuttal lodged in Logan’s throat as Bobbi Jo’s voice broke through the fog in his brain, and he nearly landed on his ass as he jack-knifed off the bed to get away from her. “What the hell?” He wildly searched his surroundings, trying to figure out where he was and why he was with Bobbi Jo.

And then last night came roaring back.

The fire… Leaving Lizbeth in Myrtle Beach… Coming home to find Bobbi Jo in his bed… Her plea to hold her so she could sleep.

He drew a hand over his face and blew out a harsh breath, then turned from the bed and a confused Bobbi Jo as he worked to get his thoughts, senses, and body onto the same track. Dreaming of Lizbeth’s mouth was heaven, but waking to find Bobbi Jo hovering over him was hell. He had to fight off the shudder threatening to rip down his spine.

He would never do anything to screw up things with Lizbeth. Thank God his dick figured out there was a problem before he did. Even though he couldn’t be held responsible for getting accosted in his sleep, he still would’ve felt guilty as hell.

Turning back to Bobbi Jo, who had the sheet pulled up around her neck, looking two-parts embarrassed and one part angry, he put his hands on his hips, then looked down and breathed a sigh of relief, realizing he still wore his jeans and boxers.

After tucking his dick back into his fly and zipping his pants, he said, “Bobbi Jo, you can stay here as long as you need. But from now on, I’ll sleep on the couch or at my office.” Hell, his truck might even be an option, but at this point, his bed was no longer his.

And hadn’t he seen that coming the second he parked his truck at the curb?

“I’m sorry. I… I wanted to thank you for taking us in last night. I thought you enjoyed that.”

Her inability to understand the problem further confused and frustrated him. Of course men enjoyed getting sucked off by their wives, even if their relationships were less than stellar—and especially when the sex was even less spectacular than the marriage. But they weren’t husband and wife anymore—hadn’t been for a long time—and that shudder hovering over his shoulder made another attempt at zipping down his spine.

“Every man enjoys oral sex, Bobbi Jo. It’s part of our genetic makeup. But you and I aren’t together anymore. And you sure as hell don’t owe me any favors. Especially not sexually.”

“But we could be.” She spoke so softly he didn’t think he heard her correctly.

“Could be what?”

“Together.”

Whoa. What?

As he remembered her comment from last night about this situation forcing them back together, he scrubbed his hands over his face and tried to clear the last vestiges of this bizarre haze he found himself floating through. He didn’t say anything last night because he didn’t think she was serious, but it was time to make sure she understood the finality of their situation.