He was gone. It didn’t matter that they’d argued like crazy that day. Or all the days before that. And she certainly didn’t need to keep wondering if he’d intended to drive into the oncoming truck, rather than it being an accident, the way the police investigation had said.
Two years of grief counseling was supposed to have pushed those thoughts away.
“Look, there’s Rita Clark. She’s got her grandbabies with her,” Mary whispered to her left, as the organ music faded away and they all sat down. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
“They are.” She gave Mary a tight smile and tried to ignore the way Carl’s leg pressed against hers once again.
It wasn’t until Reverend Maitland walked to the pulpit and opened the bible that she finally felt her body start to relax. At least Carl and Mary had to look at him for a while instead of her.
Right now, she was grateful for the respite.
As soon as he walked into Murphy’s Diner, in the center of the town square, Logan knew it was a bad idea. Becca had called ahead, reserving a table for their large party, knowing how busy the diner got on Sundays after church. Aunt Gina had wanted to cook for them all, seeing as half of her boys would be leaving town later that day, but they’d argued her down. She wasn’t getting any younger, and the Hartson clan was getting bigger. With Gray’s growing family, and Tanner’s new wife, there would be twelve of them sitting around the table.
But he hadn’t banked on glancing over and seeing Courtney Roberts sitting there, with two people who looked to be in their sixties, and a man who was sitting way too close to her for Logan’s liking.
Simmer down. They had an arrangement. One that didn’t include him wondering why the guy seemed to be touching her face right now.
“Who are you looking at?” Becca asked, following the direction of his gaze. “Oh, there are the Roberts. You know them, right? They run Creek Edge Farm. We used to go to the pumpkin patch there when we were kids.” She waved at them, completely unaware of how tense Logan felt. “They lost their son a couple of years ago. It was such a horrible accident. That’s his widow, and his brother, Carl.” She tipped her head to the side. “Do you think there’s something between them? They’re sitting awful close.”
“Stop gossiping,” Logan said sharply. He immediately regretted his tone. He sighed and pulled a chair out for Becca. “Sorry, I’m not used to small town talk anymore.”
Becca didn’t seem bothered by his admonishment. “She’s so pretty, isn’t she? Such a shame to be widowed so young.”
Logan looked at Courtney again. She was wearing a gauzy white blouse, printed with tiny grey flowers, unbuttoned at the neck to reveal the delicate line of her collarbone. He swallowed hard, remembering how soft her skin was. How warm her thighs were, how she’d moaned long and loud as he took her over and again.
He hadn’t spoken to her since. That wasn’t in their agreement. It was supposed to be simple. They both had itches they needed to scratch. Nothing more. And in exactly three hours he’d be catching a flight back to Boston and work. To a world where farms and the pretty women who worked on them didn’t belong.
“What are you going to eat?” Becca asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Cam ordering oatmeal with fruit on the side. His twin ate like a professional even when he wasn’t being lectured by his team nutritionist. Maybe that’s part of what made him so successful at what he did.
“Can you order me pancakes and bacon?” Logan said, standing. “I need to make a quick call.”
Becca blinked. “Sure. You want a drink?”
“Coffee and OJ please.”
“Are there problems at work?” she asked, her voice sympathetic.
He nodded, even though it was a complete lie. He didn’t need to make a call at all. He just wanted some fresh air, somewhere away from Courtney Roberts, because he couldn’t stand watching that son-of-a-bitch leaning in to whisper in her ear any longer.
As soon as he stepped onto the sidewalk outside Murphy’s, he exhaled heavily. He was being crazy. That’s what this town did to him. Closed in on him like a crusher. He needed to be calm. Tonight he’d be back in Boston, back to the job he loved, in the industry he thrived in.
He leaned his head on the wall and looked out at the green square on the other side of the road. People were scattered across the lawns, others seated on the benches that bordered the bandstand at the center. There were trees dotted all around, their leaves not yet vibrant red and oranges, though it was only a matter of time. Despite the golden sun and blue sky above him, there was already a hint of fall in the air.
Against his better judgment, Logan pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped out a message.
You look beautiful in that blouse. Wish I was ripping it off of you right now.
As soon as he pressed send, he turned to look through the windows, over to the corne
r where she was sitting with her dead husband’s family. He could tell from her frown that her phone had buzzed. She pulled it from the purse next to her and unlocked the screen, blinking as she read the words.
He tapped out another message.
Look out of the window.
He could see her swallow hard. She stuffed her phone back into her purse, then lifted her coffee cup to her lips, slowly turning her head to look out of the window. As soon as their gazes clashed he felt it again. That need. The desire. The crazy feeling that the world was tipping sideways.
He stuffed his phone back into his jeans pocket and breathed in a lungful of air.