Sidelines (Wounded Hearts #1) (30 page)

My heart cracks a little. “I did. You didn’t have to stand up to Carrey like that.”

“But I did. I would do—”

“Don’t, Logan. I’ve had a long day and I don’t have it in me to do this again.”

Silence stretches between us and if not for the slow inhale on the other end of the line, I would have thought he’d hung up on me. “Can I ask you something?”

That crack in my chest starts to split a little further, the ache growing exponentially. “Do you really want to hear the answer?”

“Don’t cry, Allie.”

“I’m not crying,” I choke out. “I’m just really tired. I need to let you go. I’ll see you later.”

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

A war starts to brew inside me. I really should try to minimize our contact to only what is necessary, but every inch of my stubborn will is standing in the way. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“Why is that?”

A bit of the anger and frustration I’ve been dealing with all day bubbles up to the surface and I can’t help letting it all out, admittedly at the wrong person. “Because every person with a social media account thinks that we’ve got something going on. I’m already fighting my producer, the editor of
The Report
, your team owner and coaching staff, and a slew of other people to keep the integrity of this article in tact. By myself. I told you I can’t give in to what you want, Logan, but you don’t seem to want to even try to stand in my shoes for a second. I get that you’re used to getting your way, because you’re normally the kind of guy who plays by the rules and therefore is the beloved child of all, but it’s not just your feelings on the line here. My career is the one thing I’ve got going for me and I can’t let it go because you can’t keep your feelings for me private.”

Every last word sucks the life out of me, and a tear escapes my eyes as I cover my mouth to hold in my sob. I can’t add the part that my heart breaks in two every time his gorgeous Caribbean blue eyes pierce through me like they can see all my scars. I can’t add the part about how every time his hand touches mine, my insides light up like a freaking fireworks show. I can’t add how badly I want him to wrap those arms around me and carry me down the field and away from the opposing team that has seemingly taken over every aspect of my life. I can’t.

“I see. Well, then…”

“Logan.” His name is a cry from my soul.

“I guess I’ll see you when I get back to the ranch then.”

“I’m…I’m not…” The words get stuck in my throat, thick as peanut butter. “I’ll be checking into the inn at noon tomorrow.”

“Okay.” The one word sounds like it takes everything within him to get out. “I’ll, um…I’ll see you…”

“I’ll touch base with you sometime tomorrow to let you know what we need to accomplish this week. I need to fly back by Friday.”

No audible noise comes from the line this time.

“Logan?”

“Yeah. I’ll um, I’ll get an appointment set up with Coach Ryan for Monday. Just let me know whatever else you need and we’ll…we’ll make sure to get it taken care of this week.” I’d believe his all business tone was genuine if I could just see what’s really in his eyes. 

“Thank you.”

“Good night, Allie.”

“You too, Logan.”

The click of the line disconnecting snaps the barrier I’ve been holding the tears back with in two. By the time my steak arrives, my appetite is gone and the only thing left to comfort me is a documentary on the history of the San Antonio Rattlers and the legends they created in Texas.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Thank you so much for getting me in. I know you guys have been working so hard to get back up and running to full capacity. I promise not to be in your way.” I thank Annie for the fifth time.

“Please, Miss Mooreland. We completely understand.” She lays a soft, wrinkly hand on top of mine. “And just so you know. We all support you and Logan.”

I nearly choke on my inhale. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you mean?”

“Well, everyone around here loves Logan, so if he deems you special then we do, too,” she says proudly in her mousy voice.

I stare at her in complete and utter shock. I’m not sure if I’m more shocked that these people would accept me in their community simply because their golden boy has enamored feelings for me, or if they just assume that what they see on social media is the absolute truth. Either way, my removing myself from Logan’s home is bound to stir up rumors if I don’t watch myself carefully.

“I see. Well, with all due respect, there isn’t anything going on between Logan and me. I’m here to write a report on him for the foremost football magazine and that’s it. Although, I would like to consider myself Logan’s friend.” Annie eyes me over her half-moon specs, lips so firmly pressed together that we both know she doesn’t believe a word I just said.

“I see. Well, just know that we want what’s best for Logan and we will go to great lengths to support him at all costs.”

Translation: you break his heart, we’ll break your kneecaps.

“That’s what I want to hear. Thank you again, Annie.”

The spinster older lady politely nods but I can feel her beady brown eyes watching my every move as I round the corner and take the steps upstairs. The room is quaint and cozy. A four-poster bed sits nestled against a wood-paneled wall adorned with a hand-stitched quilt. The antiquated country decor, in all its rose-covered glory, is far from what I had gotten used to at Logan’s beautiful home, but just that thought alone gives me the resolve I need to get as comfortable as possible here. I cannot and will not go back to Logan’s, even if the downstairs study catches on fire again.

Sighing, I drop my purse on the bed and move to check out the view. I watch the long grass in the field behind the inn sway gently in the afternoon breeze. The events of the last couple of days are starting to weigh me down again. Everywhere I turned, something went wrong, and even though Emma was able to help me do as much damage control as she could, the seed has been planted. Just about every post either Logan or I have been tagged in since last night includes some sort of question around the nature of our relationship. I need to finish my article as quickly as possible and move on. The longer I’m in Texas, the quicker this problem can escalate.

Movement near a worn wooden fence post catches my eye, and before long, a long, slick black reptile slithers out of the grass. Images of my first day on the ranch come flooding back to me and I wonder where Logan and I stand after everything that happened today. I still haven’t spoken to him, but that could be because Carrey will have him running sprints until he turns thirty.

A knock at my door causes me to jump. I’m even more surprised when I open it to find Lucy and Emma standing in the hallway.

“What are you two doing here?”

“We’re here to kidnap you.” Lucy bounces on her toes and claps. Even with all the stress that the weekend’s events have brought, her luminosity brings me some comfort.

“You girls probably shouldn’t be here.” I eye Emma who gives me a conspiratorial smirk.

“We’re exactly where we should be. Come on. We’ll sneak you out the back.”

“There’s a nasty looking snake out there. I’m not going out the back.”

Lucy’s petite nose wrinkles. “Yeah, me neither. But I can distract Miss Williams and you can slip Allie out the front.”

Emma nods as if accepting orders from her commanding officer. “Grab a t-shirt. And some jeans. And—”

“I’m not staying at the farm.”

“Uh, no. Logan was clear about that. But you are going to enjoy a quiet evening with us.” Emma’s soft features silently plead for me to come with them.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea, girls.” I sigh.

“We’re baking a cake. And possibly a few batches of cookies,” Lucy says casually, raising a brow as if in challenge, knowing fully I won’t back down.

“I’ll get my purse.”

***

There is nothing like the smell of the chemical reaction that chocolate, flour, and sugar have when mixed together and heated at 350 degrees. I’m convinced there is no other form of therapy that will match the feeling I get from baking.

“Oh my word, these cookies!” I can’t help but exclaim. Jillian gives me a knowing smile.

“They were my mother’s recipe.”

“They are amazing.”

Jillian finishes writing on the note card and hands it to me. “Here.” I look down and realize she just might have handed me the key to heaven.

“I can’t take a family recipe.”

“It’s not exactly a family recipe anymore. Plus Momma would have wanted me to share it with you.” She smiles shyly, as if she just let a major secret slip. Lucy comes barreling through the back door, a basket full of strawberries in hand.

“And it starts,” she mumbles. She leaves the basket on the island and scurries out of the kitchen, leaving Jillian and me to wonder what she means by that. When a storm door slams shut behind two heavy-footed individuals, it doesn’t take long to understand what she’s hiding from.

“I’m just saying it’s not that big of a deal if you are. She’s gorgeous and—”

“And I’m telling you, it’s none of your business. So drop it.”

Hearing the boys bicker in the hallway causes my heart to stop, but the telltale clicks of claws on the hardwood floor makes it skip a beat.

“Hank!” The chubby little guy waddle-jogs into the kitchen, his slobbery tongue hanging out one side and a jubilant look in his eyes. He nearly plows right into me, knocking me backward as a I lean down to run my finger through his wrinkly fur. The joy this dog brings to my achy heart is almost overwhelming.

Logan and his big brother Drew stop mid-step in the doorway to the kitchen. Drew’s jaw drops in surprise while Logan’s clamps shut in obstinacy.

“Allie.” Logan nods at me before taking the couple of steps into the kitchen to hug his mother.

“Thank you,” I hear him whisper in her ear. When she pulls back to face him, a contented smile graces her perfect face.

“Any time, son.” She turns and eyes me as she picks up a plate of the oatmeal cookies I was just gushing about. “Here. We made your favorite.”

My jaw drops to the floor. She clearly failed to mention we were making Logan’s favorite baked goods. He suppresses a smile when he looks my way, but I think we both know what game his mother is playing.

“Thanks. Hey, would you mind if I stole Allie for a moment?”

Jillian clearly fakes disinterest. “By all means.”

Logan picks up another cookie and kisses his mother on the cheek. His eyes meet mine for a glimmer of a second and the butterflies flutter up a storm in my gut.

“Oh honey, would you mind grabbing a jar of that marmalade from the cellar? It’ll be just perfect for these dinner rolls,” Jillian calls over her shoulder as she goes about setting out various pans to start cooking the family dinner. The one she’s repeatedly invited me to for the last hour.

“Yes, ma’am.” Logan’s southern charm hits me like a ton of bricks and I try to hold on to the anger and resolve that has been boiling within since yesterday morning. The moment the pressure of his hand meets the small of my back, however, I’m a goner.

Logan guides us out the back door and through the back porch. The moment his feet touch the grass, his fingers lace through mine and the ache in my heart splits into a massive chasm. The urge to pull away fights with the urge to pull him in and by the time we’re around the side of the house and he opens the door to the cellar, I feel like my entire being might be split in two by the conflicting emotions swirling inside. The silence is painful and peaceful at the same time, like even though a thousand words bang on the doors of my head to be let loose, they also just want to dance around in my heart to the music of what is really unfolding inside.

Logan pops open the lock to the cellar door, taking the first few steps down ahead of me, but never letting go of my hand. The cobwebs across the top of door and against the wall pull me through the fog in my head enough to allow the warning signs to start going off.

“Um, how safe is it down here?” Glancing down, I add, “I didn’t exactly wear Logan approved shoes.” 

His soft chuckle makes me want to curl up in a corner and rock back and forth. I need to get a grip.

“The rope keeps the snakes away.” 

His words are as confusing as the thoughts and emotions running through my veins. When he nods at a double layer of rope that runs the length of the entry way, I can’t help my bewilderment.

“I thought that was a old cowboy tall-tale.”

The corner of his lips curl up and his eyes dart to a twenty pound bag of pellets laying up against the wall of the house beside the door. Snake repellent. I didn’t even know that was a thing.

“Huh. So this place is safe?”

“No need for boots in here.”

I can’t help it. My sigh is a bit more theatrical than it should have been as we finish descending the stairs. The cellar opens up to shelves that line the walls, each shelf holding an array of items ranging from glass jars of jams and salsas to boxes labeled “Christmas decorations.” A plastic tub sits in a corner of the room, remind me of the storm shelter in Logan’s basement.  A stack of plastic Adirondack chairs sits beside it and it amuses me to think that anyone could relax in one of them while a storm rages overhead.

“Oh, thank God. They really should spray that repellent stuff all over the town. I saw a big ole nasty thing coming out of the field behind—” Logan’s hand meets my chin and slowly tilts it so that my eyes are forced to meet his.

“I’m sorry about the other night. I didn’t want to cause a big scene. And I really didn’t expect to rock your world. Or at least not in the way it did.”

The air escapes my lungs so quickly and my brain forgets how to breathe. “It’s okay.”

His half-smile falters and his eyes dart to my lips. “No, it’s not.”

Finally my brain catches up and reminds me he’s standing entirely way too close. Taking a step back, I want to punch myself for being upset by the fact that he doesn’t follow me. “Listen, I think your intentions—”

“You mean my feelings.”

“Does it matter? They—whatever they are—cannot interfere with this article. Neither of us can afford for us to act on—”

“So you feel it, too.” It’s not a question.

And I can’t respond.

“Allie,” he pleads, stepping all up in my business again.

“I can’t, Logan.”

His calloused palms cup my jaw and my body calls a timeout from my brain. My weight shifts and before I know it, I’m in his strong embrace, my head finally resting on his sturdy chest. The comfort his racing heart has on me nearly brings me to my knees. His arms lock securely around me, protecting me from everything outside this cellar that tells me what we want most can never be.

“Oh, Allie.” I feel his warm breath on my hairline, a kiss pressed to the top of my head. “I’m so sorry.”

A sob lodges itself in my chest and I can’t stop the shaking it takes to keep it in. His hands rub up and down my back, the pressure just enough to calm my body back down.

“I’m sorry, too,” I finally tell him when I feel the lump in my throat disperse.

He leans back, stunned. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve been very upfront from the beginning. I’m the one who keeps pushing this.”

I shake my head and look up into those beautiful eyes, feeling every ounce of his tenderness and affection.

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you I don’t feel the same. If I could…maybe it would be easier—”

His fingers grasp my jaw, their tips brushing the hair at the nape of my neck. With just a shift of his wrists, our gazes crash into each other and there is no holding back. His lips graze mine—once, twice. Not able to take it any longer, my arms tighten, pulling him closer. Swimming in the need to let this out, the kiss deepens. Warmth spreads from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, a calmness I’ve never experienced before while being kissed flooding into every nook and cranny of my soul. Time stops and the only thing that matters is the two of us at this moment.

And then it’s all over, all too soon.

“Logan. Allie? You guys down there?” Lucy’s soprano voice rings in my ears like a shotgun, but my sense of urgency to hide what’s really going on here is nowhere to be seen.

“Yeah, Luce. We’ll be right up. Just give us a minute,” Logan shouts to her without loosening his grip on me.

“Okay,” she sings, the back screen door crashing closed to signal her retreat back into the house.

Laying my head on Logan’s shoulder, I do my best to muster up some sort of will to walk away. My voice catches when I try to speak, giving my heart away. “Logan…”