“What’d you want to talk to me about?” Logan asked.
When Lucky hesitated, Logan thought he knew where this was going. “You want to make things official with Cassie and ask her to marry you, and you’re hoping I’m okay with it. I am. You two should be together.”
“Thanks for that.”
It wasn’t a grand gesture. Logan had never believed in the misery-loves-company notion. Besides, he was getting daily calls from Stella about how she didn’t think it was a good idea for Cassie and Lucky to be living in sin, that it wasn’t setting a good example for Mia and Mackenzie.
“When will you pop the question?” Logan asked.
“As soon as I get the ring.”
Logan thought of the one in his drawer, the one that no one in his family had seen, and he considered offering it to Lucky. But then maybe it was jinxed or something.
Hell, maybe he was jinxed.
“Along with marrying Cassie,” Lucky continued, “we’ve started paperwork to adopt the girls. Surprised?”
“Not in the least.” But just three months ago, he would have been. However, Logan had no doubts now. None. Because his brother was in love, and Logan was completely happy for him.
They were still a few yards away from the Fork and Spoon when Logan got a whiff of the burger that brought in lunchtime diners. Today was no different. Because of the glass front on the café, it was easy to see that the place was packed.
Crap.
He nearly turned around, but Lucky took hold of his arm and maneuvered him inside. The chatter stopped immediately, and the place went silent as a tomb. He should have just ordered takeout and had Greg pick it up.
“They need to see you out and about,” Lucky whispered to him. “And it won’t be long before they’ll have something else to gossip about.”
Logan wasn’t betting on that. Despite three months passing, Helene was still the most tongue-wagging topic with Logan coming in a close second. The speculation about what he’d seen in Helene’s office had probably reached levels of absurdity times ten.
“Hey, maybe I can start a rumor that I knocked up Cassie?” Lucky suggested.
Logan appreciated that, but he thought the offer might have something to do with Sissy Lee Culpepper, who was sauntering over to them. The busty blonde in the skintight Pepto Bismol–pink uniform eyed Lucky. Then she eyed his crotch. She then did the same to Logan and smiled, maybe because she remembered he was the lone McCord male left on the market.
“The only thing open is the counter,” she said, “but I can shoo away someone from a booth if you like.”
“The counter’s fine,” Logan insisted. “Could you get us two burger plates and make it fast? We’re in a hurry.”
“I want a root beer float with mine,” Lucky added.
“Sure thing, sweetie.”
Sissy Lee called everyone sweetie, honey or darling so it wasn’t exactly a term of endearment. More like a ploy to get a bigger tip.
“And for what it’s worth,” Sissy Lee said, “I think Helene is lower than hoof grit.”
That got some mumbled agreements from the other diners. Logan hoped that the conversation would end if he gave a noncommittal nod.
It didn’t.
“I got a name for a woman like that,” Sissy Lee added in a whisper. “Hick-dead.”
Logan wasn’t sure if she was attempting pig Latin and was really calling Helene a dickhead. And he wasn’t interested in trying to figure it out. He gave Sissy Lee another noncommittal nod. But it was Lucky’s wink and smile that got the waitress moving. She added a wink of her own, and using her best femme fatale hip swish, she walked away.
Logan took the stool at the far end of the counter. Not ideal since the grill was just on the other side of a partial wall, and the smoke from the sizzling burgers came right at them.
“Other than a knocking-up rumor,” Lucky continued, “you could give them something new to talk about by going on a date.”
Logan gave him a blank stare. “There are no eligible women in town that you haven’t slept with already. I don’t need that kind of gossip. Or that kind of woman.”
Lucky shrugged, made a sound as if that were possibly true. “There are always those dating sites.”
He’d rather personally shovel every bit of bullshit from the pasture, one cow patty at a time. “No thanks.”
“Then what about—”
“No. Thanks,” Logan said a little louder than he intended.
It got people’s attention. Not that their attention had strayed too far from him, anyway. He could practically feel the sympathy pouring over him.
“Suit yourself, but I was going to say you should ask her out.” Lucky tipped his head to the fry cook. “She’s new in town, and I haven’t slept with her.”
Logan looked up, at the veil of greasy-scented gray smoke that was between them and the cook. And his stomach dropped to his kneecaps.
Maybe Lucky hadn’t slept with her, but Logan sure had.
Julia Child was in the process of flipping a burger.
OH, GOD. THERE wasn’t just one cowboy but two. And they didn’t just look alike. They were identical.
Now what?
Reese tried not to react, tried not to give in to the gasp that was inching its way from her throat toward her mouth. But mercy, this was gasp-worthy.
She’d come to Spring Hill hoping to find the hot cowboy she had slept with and get her grandfather’s watch back. And she’d wanted to do it without attracting any attention to herself—or to him. Especially since he might be engaged or even married by now. She definitely hadn’t wanted to intrude on his life, not after that promise she’d given him.
What happens in San Antonio stays in San Antonio. I’ll take this to the grave.
Reese had made that promise when she thought the grave was imminent, and she’d wanted to finish that idiotic bucket list. Well, she had finished it, but now she was in the process of undoing it.
But how did she undo this without admitting that she didn’t even know which one she’d bedded? And here she had thought this might be the easiest thing left on her undoing quest.
She had finally lost the weight that she’d put on from her carb and sugar binges and had gotten her money back from the canceled cremation. She’d gone through with the charity donations,
