“If you’re sure…” Mrs. Wilson retreated to the shed and ducked her head beneath the dryer.
“I’ll get you some water.” Logan stepped past Cassidy and entered the trailer’s kitchen, then searched the cupboards for a drinking glass.
“Cassidy? Are you makin’ all that racket?”
Crap. “It’s Logan Taylor, Mrs. Ortiz.” He poked his head around the doorway. “Cassidy needs a drink of water.”
“Oh.” The older woman glanced across the room. “I don’t know where Cassidy is.”
“She’s outside.” He resumed his search.
A few seconds later…“Cassidy? You makin’ all that racket in there?”
“Logan Taylor, ma’am.” He wondered if Cassidy’s mother knew about the baby. Logan found a glass, ran the cold tap, then headed outside. “Here.” He handed Cassidy the drink, before retreating to the bottom of the steps.
“I don’t bite.” She flashed a crooked smile.
If not for the pasty color of her complexion, he’d have two-stepped toward his truck and gotten the heck out of Dodge. “Do you need me to take you to a doctor?”
The smile vanished. “I don’t need you to do anything, Logan.”
Fearing his presence upset her, he said, “Maybe we should talk later.”
Cassidy glanced at Mrs. Wilson. “That might be best.”
How long did old biddy hair take to style?
“Give me a couple of hours,” Cassidy said, reading his mind.
He doubted Mrs. Wilson had enough hair on her head to require two hours of teasing. The former schoolteacher flipped off the dryer and began removing her curlers. “I’ll take you out to dinner later,” he said.
Color flooded Cassidy’s cheeks. “You’re asking me out on a date?”
A date? He’d already gotten her pregnant, wasn’t it a little late for a date? “Uh…” He shook his head. “I was thinking along the lines of a business meeting.” He didn’t dare become too friendly with Cassidy—she was just too attractive for his peace of mind.
“Oh.” The light faded from her eyes and he felt as if he’d kicked a puppy across the barnyard. “Thanks, but I can’t leave Mom here by herself.”
Recalling the odd way Cassidy’s mother had behaved a few minutes ago, he asked, “Is your mother ill?”
“For goodness sake, Logan.” Mrs. Wilson formed a capital letter A with her fingers. “Sonja’s…”
He stared at the older woman, not having a clue as to what she meant.
“Mom’s got Alzheimer’s,” Cassidy explained.
Alzheimer’s? He hadn’t heard. Because he’d kept to himself for so long the only person he had any meaningful conversations with was Fletcher. “I’ll bring supper here.” Logan came up with a mental list of local restaurants and bars. “Tacos sound okay?” Cassidy pressed her fingertips to her mouth and shook her head.
Bethany had suffered morning sickness at all times of the day—that was the only part of pregnancy Logan understood. His wife had always lost the baby before the queasiness abated. He noticed a grill near the tree. “How about steaks on the cooker?”
Cassidy sat up straighter. “Steak sounds good.”
With a nod he left. And didn’t look back.
As soon as he cleared the trailer park and merged onto the highway to Junket, Logan eased up on the accelerator. Cassidy’s face flashed before his eyes. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings by questioning whether or not the baby was his.
He’d known deep in his gut that he was the father—but he’d held out hope he wasn’t. Cassidy’s pregnancy made him feel as if he’d betrayed Bethany’s memory. She’d tried for years to have a baby and Cassidy had gotten pregnant during a one-night stand—none of it made sense.
Learning Mrs. Ortiz had Alzheimer’s had taken Logan by surprise and confirmed how little he knew about Cassidy’s life. Cassidy had been two years behind him in school. He remembered her as a cute, shy girl he’d once helped to collect the contents of her purse after it had spilled in the hallway. He couldn’t recall if she’d dated much—he’d been too wrapped up in Bethany to pay attention to other girls.
Cursing, he gripped the wheel tighter. He intended to offer financial assistance with raising the baby but nothing more. He’d figured Cassidy would have plenty of help from family and friends. Now he questioned how she’d manage her hair salon, care for an ailing mother and cope with a new baby.
You could shoulder some of the burden.
Logan’s subconscious slammed on the brakes. Cassidy was a sexy, beautiful woman. Spending time with her would sorely test his determination to keep his hands to himself. He blamed his elevated testosterone levels around her on the fact that he hadn’t had a normal sex life in years.
Each time Bethany had become pregnant, the bedroom door had closed in his face. She’d been terrified intercourse would cause a miscarriage. As soon as she’d recovered from the inevitable miscarriage he’d been allowed back into the bedroom for stud duty. When Bethany had finally carried a baby through the first trimester, Logan knew he wouldn’t have sex again until after the baby had been born. When Cassidy had walked into Billie’s Roadhouse, Logan had been celibate almost a year.
Aside from his celibacy issues, Logan had kept a dirty little secret. Ever since that September night he and Cassidy had ended up in bed together, he’d fantasized about making love to her—most likely because he didn’t remember the details of the first time. He’d woken the morning after to her feminine scent on his bed sheets. He’d noticed the towels on the bathroom floor but hadn’t remembered taking a shower. A week later he’d discovered a pair of black panties beneath the bed. He’d meant to toss the scrap of lace into the burn barrel—instead he’d stuffed the lingerie in his sock drawer.
After his talk with Cassidy at dinner, Logan intended to keep his distance. He hated to get her hopes up that he’d hang around for the long haul. Cassidy was young and beautiful and sexy. One day she’d find a man who’d marry her despite having a child—Logan’s child.
He concentrated on the ribbon of winding road, refusing to contemplate Cassidy falling in love with another man.
Especially when a tiny part of him wanted to be that guy.
“PLEASE WEAR THE YELLOW BLOUSE.” Cassidy hovered in the doorway of her mother’s bedroom. “Logan will be here any minute for supper.” And my mother is still walking around the house in her bra.
“I don’t want Logan to eat with us.”
“An hour ago you were excited about having company. Don’t you remember?” Cassidy muttered a curse beneath her breath. Would she ever learn to quit saying remember? Sometimes the word upset her mother—other times being reminded of
