The Rancher's Wife (9 page)

“Yes, ma'am,” they said in unison.

Amy released the doorknob, allowing a slant of light to pierce the dark quiet of the room. She took a few steps down the hall but paused when the rustling of bedsheets sounded.

“I'm glad we got two aunts now.” Jayden's hushed voice carried into the hallway. “They're better than a mama any day.”

A bed creaked.

“Yep. Aunt Amy's cool,” Kayden said. “But you're lucky she didn't give you a butt whoopin'. A mama woulda burned your tail up.”

Jayden sighed. “Yeah, pro'ly. We'd both have us a thousand butt whoopins by now.”

It was silent for a moment.

“Maybe,” Kayden whispered. “But we ain't got one yet.”

A burst of muffled giggles rang out. Amy grinned, covering her mouth to silence her laughter and cradling her side at the sharp sting running through the cut. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

The moment was so familiar. Full of laughter coming from little ones tucked in their beds. She'd imagined it a million times when she'd been pregnant with Sara. And, had her luck been as good back then as it had been for Cissy earlier, the laughter would be coming from her children. Hers and Logan's. Safe in their beds. Loved and protected.

She'd been so sure back then that she could've made Logan happy. Could've won him over, earning a loving husband and strong family. But she'd gone about it the wrong way and ended up losing everything.

Amy sighed. All that was in the past. It was just a teenage crush she'd worked hard to overcome. She'd gotten over her unrealistic hero worship of Logan. She wasn't that desperate girl begging for his attention any more. She was moving on.

She made her way to their old bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her. It was exactly as she remembered. The small fireplace on the far wall was still charming and the deep polish of the cherry furniture shone as bright as ever. Her purse sat on the dresser and her overnight bags were lined up against the wall by the wide, king-sized bed.

Amy rubbed her hands over her arms and crossed to the dresser. She rifled through the contents of her purse, pulling out the crumpled divorce agreement and smoothing the creases.

The bathroom door opened and Logan exited, his bare feet whispering over the carpet as he crossed the room. He reached out, plucked the papers from her and flicked them down on the dresser.

“Come on.” His strong hand wrapped gently around her elbow, tugging her to the bathroom.

He'd discarded his shirt and the thick muscles of his bare back tightened with each of his movements. Amy swallowed hard. It was a physical reaction. Nothing more. She tried to convince herself she'd have the same response to any other well-built man she came across.

Logan stopped in front of the sink. He sifted through the medicine cabinet, retrieving alcohol wipes, fresh gauze and tape.

Amy flicked her eyes around the bathroom, trying to focus on anything other than the broad expanse of his chest. A sprinkling of dark hair arrowed down his abs toward unsnapped jeans hanging low on his lean hips.

Logan's tanned hands gathered the hem of her sweater.

“I can do this myself,” she said, stilling his thick wrists.

“You can't reach it properly.”

“Yes, I can. Clear out and I'll take care of it.”

“Amy, it's been a hell of a day. Just let me do this and let's get some decent sleep. In a bed, this time.” He raised a brow and flashed a crooked grin. “Please.”

Her body sagged, his gentle expression melting her defenses. She raised her arms, squeezing her eyes shut as he lifted the sweater over her head and dropped it to the tiled floor.

“I swear, Amy, you're about as hardheaded as those boys...”

She glanced up. His eyes clung to the ring dangling from her necklace and the strong column of his throat moved on a hard swallow.

Her face flamed. She should've taken it off long ago. Her hand shot to her chest, pressing over the metal. The stone cut into her palm.

“Logan—”

“Lean to the side,” he said, voice hoarse and strained.

She sighed and twisted to the side.

His broad hands moved slowly against her skin, peeling off the old bandage and sweeping an alcohol wipe across the wound. Amy winced at the sting. Logan lowered his dark head, blowing gently across the cut until she relaxed.

“There,” he whispered, pressing the last bit of tape over the gauze and a kiss to her rib cage.

Amy tucked her chin to her chest, cheeks burning under his scrutiny. “Thanks.”

Logan rose, running his hands along her sides. The heat from his sculpted abs and wide chest pulsed against her front. His fingers caressed her hips and tugged her closer.

She tensed her stomach, trying to ignore the warm flutters spreading beneath her skin, waiting for the moment to pass. It was a physical reaction, nothing more.

Logan's calloused fingers slipped underneath the ring and lifted it.

“You still wear it,” he murmured.

Amy blinked, eyes tracing the gray grout outlining each of the square tiles on the floor.

“For how long?” he asked, tugging the ring. “Since you left?”

She looked up and nodded.

Logan's brow creased. His dark eyes clung to hers. He hesitated, his mouth opening and closing, voice finally emerging in a choked rasp.

“There've been no other men?”

Amy cringed. She wished she could lie to him one more time. Tell him he no longer mattered to her. That what she'd felt for him had never been real. That she'd forgotten him long ago and fallen for another man along the way.

That would be enough for him to give in, give up on their marriage and let this go. Then she could move further into her new life. Away from her past sins and embarrassments.

Only, that's how they'd ended up here to begin with. Her past lie still stood between them, casting a shadow and undermining his faith in her. She'd forced his hand back then and didn't deserve his trust now.

Still, she wanted it. Even if she wasn't worthy of it. Amy recoiled, feeling as small as Jayden. Wanting to do so much good and failing in every respect.

Logan's face flushed, the redness flooding his lean cheeks and racing down his broad chest. The muscles in his abs rippled on an indrawn breath.

“Amy?”

A soft tremor shook his voice, highlighting the dark uncertainty in his eyes and deepening the lines of pain on his face.

Amy sighed, shoulders sagging. It was just as Cissy had said. There was never any winning with a Slade man. Especially Logan. He wouldn't let this go. And she couldn't lie to him again. Or to herself. No matter how much she wished she could. Like Jayden, she'd learned her lesson.

She closed her eyes, curled her fingers into his tousled hair and tugged him close. His forehead was warm against hers and she smoothed her palms down to cup his jaw, the only fair words there were leaving her. Honest ones.

“There
are
no other men, Logan. Not like you. They don't exist.”

A strangled groan rumbled in his throat, vibrating against her lips as his mouth plundered hers. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, bending beneath his tender advance.

She should stop him. Should finish this before it started. But the hard heat of his chest and the rough rasp of his stubble-lined cheek against her skin renewed old longings.

The longing to be seen by him. To be desired by him. To be loved by him.

His tongue parted her lips and his fingers pressed through the fall of her hair to knead the back of her neck. His hands slid down her back to cradle her bottom, lifting her and wrapping her legs around his waist.

Her chest swelled and a lick of heat curled low in her belly. His masculine scent and gentle touch enveloped her, permeating her senses and settling back into their rightful place in her heart. And, God help her, she'd had no idea how empty she'd been.

She hugged him closer as he carried her into the bedroom and tossed them both onto the bed, the plush bedding cushioning her back and his hard length spanning her front. The moist warmth of his mouth left hers to travel across her skin, lingering on her breasts, thighs and everywhere in between, dispensing with their clothes along the way.

Gasping, she nuzzled the hard curve of his bicep as he settled between her thighs. He pressed deep and a soft cry escaped her, body adjusting, remembering.

He murmured warm words of apology against her lips, then continued with extreme care, body rigid and quaking. She tucked her heels around his thick thighs and pressed her nails into his muscular buttocks, urging him on.

“I won't break,” she whispered, kissing his temple. “Let go. Make love to me.”

He sucked in a strong breath and moved with greater strength and purpose, limbs steadying. Her hand moved of its own accord, pressing tight to his chest, absorbing the comforting pound of his heart and taking everything he would give.

“Make love to me,” she repeated. “Make love to me.”

The phrase fell from her lips with each of their movements, hovering on the air between them. She didn't know when the mantra changed. Didn't notice when the words rearranged or when some dropped away.

She only realized it after they both found release. When he rolled to his back, arms wrapped tight around her and she followed. When she replaced her hand at his chest with her wet cheek. Just as she had the first time they'd been together.

The plea lingered on her tongue, breaking the silence, just as it had all those years ago. It echoed around them and within her, mingling with the thundering beat of his heart and the searing heat sweeping over her skin.

“Love me. Love me.”

And she wanted him more than she ever had before.

* * *

“I'
M
SORRY
.”

Logan grimaced. He knew it was the wrong time to tell her. Could feel it in the stiffening of Amy's spine beneath his fingertips and the slow lift of her face from his chest. But he needed to say it. Needed to pry it from his gut and put it down. So they'd at least have a fighting chance.

“For everything,” he said. “All the way back to the very start.”

Amy rose to her elbows and faced him. Her brow creased, her lush mouth parting on shallow breaths. The light sheen of sweat on her flushed cheeks glistened in the lamplight.

His body tightened. He dropped his gaze, studying the raven tangles of her hair pooling against the white blanket beneath them.

“I remember the exact day things changed between us.” He dug deep for the right words. The ones he'd arranged so carefully. “I was twenty. Had finished a good day's work and took off on my own. Rode hard. Decided to stop off by the creek to let the horse take a breather. I was half asleep propped up against that old oak tree when I heard you coming.” His mouth curved, a small smile fighting its way out despite his unease. “Your feet snapped a twig or two and I figured you were sneaking up on me. Pulling a prank like you always did. So I kept my eyes shut and played along.”

Amy's flush deepened. “Logan—”

“But that's not what you wanted.” His mouth tightened. “You kissed me, instead.” He tapped a fingertip to his lips, warmth spreading from the spot and heating his face. “Right here.”

She squirmed against him and he curled his hand over the curve of her hip, stilling her.

“I was just to practice on, you said. That some guy had caught your eye and you wanted to be prepared.” He laughed, the sound grating over his ears. “You turned beet-red. Just like now.”

Amy winced and looked down. The long sweep of her hair cascaded over her shoulders, hiding her face.

“I was still a kid,” she whispered.

“You were sixteen. Had that beautiful hair and flirty grin. And I knew you were lying.” He reached out, brushing her hair back and rubbing the strands between his fingers. “It caught me by surprise. I'd only ever thought of you as a friend and was under the impression you felt the same way about me.” His gut churned. “I remember wishing you'd shift that attention to Dom or some other boy closer to your age. Because all I could think was...if I don't put a stop to this, I'm not just gonna lose my best friend, I'm gonna break this girl's heart.”

She glanced up, gorgeous green eyes welling.

“And, damn me to hell, Amy,” he choked, “that's exactly what I did.”

She shook her head and placed her palm to his jaw. “You tried to let me down easy. I know it had to be awkward for you, and you did your best to set me straight over the years.”

“My best wasn't good enough.”

“You tried. That's the important thing,” she said, looking away. “What happened later was my fault. And none of it matters now.”

His throat tightened, heart bleeding for her. For the innocent girl she'd been. And the guarded woman she'd become. He lifted his hands, cradling her cheeks and dropping gentle kisses across her face.

He may have made mistakes by eventually giving in to Amy. By not keeping his distance. But when he'd learned of the pregnancy, he'd chosen to marry her despite the fact that she'd deceived him. As her husband, it'd been his job to protect her and he'd failed her. His throat closed. It'd been his job as Sara's father to protect her, too.

Sara
.

Logan froze. A wave of nausea swept through him, flooding his mouth. Just their daughter's name was enough to bring the pain back. Enough to remind him of how much they'd lost.

“It doesn't have to all be for nothing, Amy.” His voice sounded strange, even to his own ears. “However we got here, this is where we ended up. We still have a chance to build something solid. Something real.” He looked up, hating himself as much as he hated the hard glint in her eyes. “You're not still looking for a fairy tale, are you?”

Her mouth tightened. She turned away again, gazing blankly beyond his left shoulder.