Marrying For A Mom. Deanna Talcott

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СКАЧАТЬ smile softened, and she felt a rush of heat, from the inside out.

      “You know,” he reminded, “we’ve got a lot of history together.”

      “And not all of it good.” She couldn’t help herself, the truth had to come out.

      Logan grimaced, then gave her fingers a light squeeze before reluctantly loosening them. “Hey. Remember the time we connected on that pitching mound at the company picnic, and my watch did a number on your chin?” he asked, intentionally changing the subject.

      Her forefinger automatically flicked over the spot. “How could I forget three stitches and a tetanus?”

      He critically eyed the tiny white scar, and his hands moved as if they had a will of their own, to capture her jaw between thumb and forefinger, and angle the spot closer for his inspection. “I practically mowed you down, going after that fly ball.” Logan distinctly remembered how she’d crumpled beneath him, all soft, in a flurry of fighting limbs. The scent of leather gloves and dirt and diamond dust, and the thwunk as her chin connected with his wrist. But the worst was, after they’d collided, her husband yanked her up off the ground, dusted her off and told Logan not to worry, no damage. He’d had to remind himself to forget it, to tell himself it was none of his business, that she was married and that she belonged to someone else. Then he’d had to beat back the regrets. “The insurance cover three stitches and a tetanus?”

      Whitney started to shake her head, but stopped, not wanting to break from his touch. “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”

      The intensity of his blue gaze held her, as if he were trying to absorb her and look into her soul. A tremulous anxiety clutched Whitney, making her falter, making her breathing erratic.

      “Logan?” she finally whispered.

      “It…um…it left a mark,” he murmured, refocusing on her chin, as his thumb gently flicked over the tiny cleft.

      “It barely shows.”

      His fingers fell away. “Still…the physical evidence remains. We’ve had more brushes with fate than any two people should have to endure.”

      The moment—and the references—were awkward.

      Whitney’s smile thinned. Logan deftly changed the subject. Again.

      “Damn, I’ve driven by this place a hundred times. I can’t believe you own it.”

      “Lease it,” Whitney qualified.

      “So…” he said softly, considering. “You’re the teddy bear lady.”

      Whitney tipped her head. “Please. Don’t you dare say it’s cute. I love it, but it’s a business and it pays the bills. I have every kind and type of teddy bear you could ever imagine.”

      “I guess you do.” Logan swept the room with an all-inclusive look. It was jam-packed with teddy bears. Teddy bear toothbrushes swung on a revolving display, and teddy bear books were wedged on teddy bear bookshelves. There were teddy bear clocks, jewelry, stationery and stickers. Teddy bear erasers, pencils, pens and rulers. Framed prints, and bath accessories. Even shower curtains, regular curtains, blankets and rugs. He chuckled, his smile riding a tad bit higher on the left. “But I never intended to say ‘cute.’ I’m impressed. It’s a great concept. When I look around, I’m inclined to buy the store out.”

      “What? And reduce my inventory?” she asked dryly.

      “Whitney, this place is great. And it’s just like you to think of something this clever.”

      The praise startled Whitney, putting a pink flush in her cheeks.

      “What?” he asked, mimicking her. “Am I embarrassing you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I mean it. You were the one who always came up with the most creative ideas in high school. You were the one with the interesting slant on life.”

      “Out of necessity.”

      “Right. Like the time you suggested that instead of having a formal banquet for the National Honor Society, we have a picnic? That was the best day ever, and you were responsible for it. A whole day at the beach, playing Frisbee, and volleyball, and splashing around.”

      A shred of guilt crept into Whitney’s conscience; she’d suggested the idea because she didn’t have the twenty-five dollars for the banquet ticket.

      “And what about that idea you had for prom? Fifties night at the Peppermint Lounge? We got by decorating with peppermint sticks, borrowed a jukebox and used the rest of the money in the treasury for catering the senior banquet so it didn’t cost any of us a cent.” A second guilty flush prickled over the back of Whitney’s neck. She’d intended to go, and wear an old fifties formal Gram had tucked away in the attic. “And to top it off,” he went on, “after you came up with the idea, you never even went to the prom. I specifically went looking for you, to con you out of one dance.”

      Whitney shrugged, her smile tight as she minimized the details. “Gram’s health was kind of up and down just then.”

      Logan sobered. “You always did have a lot of responsibility looking after her.”

      “Logan. She was looking after me.”

      “I think,” he said slowly, “you looked after each other.” He chuckled, as another memory hit him. “Your gram was something else, though. I’ll never forget how she rode all over Melville on that three-wheel bike of hers.”

      Whitney shifted uncomfortably; Gram had ridden a bicycle because they couldn’t afford a car. The truth was, Whitney and Logan had hung out with different crowds, and had literally been from opposite sides of the have/have-not world.

      Logan had lived in a big house on the hill, and spent his summers tanning at the country club. His parents owned several car dealerships, and made sure their only son never lacked for a thing. He’d loved playing the part of the big, brash jock, and had run around Melville in a brand-new sports car, making sure he was noticed on every intersection by revving his engine and waving at all the girls.

      Whitney, raised by her grandmother, had lived in a rented bungalow just off of Main. It was a dilapidated little house, with a barren scrap of a front yard, and a painted tractor tire that held a few scraggly petunias. Whitney never invited friends in because they stared at the black spots on the linoleum, the water rings on the drop ceiling, and the peeling wallpaper in the front room. Still, she loved Gram dearly, and it would have cut her to the quick to have anyone say Gram hadn’t provided for her.

      Without warning, Logan reached across her, to skim the tiny teddy bear charm from around her neck and balance it on the pad of his forefinger. The fine gold chain swayed beneath her chin, pulling slightly.

      “Just like this shop…” he said, catching Whitney’s eye. This close, the sloe-dark color on her eyelids was fascinating. He leaned closer, thinking she smelled like a crazy mixture of vanilla and fabric softener. The links in the necklace, draped over the hollow of her throat, rolled up and down with every breath she took. “Details. Perfect details, Whit. Only you could pull this off.”

      “Maybe. But teddy bears aren’t as fancy as real estate, or owning car dealerships or a marina, so—”

      “No,” СКАЧАТЬ