Blame It On The Cowboy. Delores Fossen

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      She hurried away, probably because she sensed Logan needed some time with his brother. Or time alone. But while Logan would take that time alone, later, for now he needed to do a little business with Lucky.

      “I won’t keep you,” Logan assured him. “I figure Cassie and you will want to celebrate before the girls get home from school.” And by celebrate, he meant they’d want to have sex. “I just wanted to make sure the bull situation had been fixed before I leave for Dallas.”

      The Dallas trip was legit. Logan was on a 3:00 p.m. flight and would be gone at least a couple of days, but considering he was slammed with work and getting ready for several magazine interviews, he was BS-ing about asking about the BS.

      Lucky’s flat look told Logan he wasn’t buying the reason for this visit. “All right, what’s wrong with you?”

      Logan hated to play the scorned-lover card, but he would this time. “You know what’s wrong with me. That doesn’t mean I’m not happy for Cassie and you. I am.”

      Lucky’s flat look continued. “Does this have anything to do with the new cook at the Fork and Spoon?”

      Either twin telepathy again or a good guess was in play here. “Why do you ask?” Logan settled for saying.

      “Because of the way you lit out of there like your balls were on fire. But maybe they were on fire because of the lie you told her. You didn’t have a meeting.”

      “But I did.” One that Logan scheduled as soon as he left the café.

      Lucky clearly knew he was semilying, again, but Logan didn’t intend to let him in on anything. If Reese had meant “what happens in San Antonio stays in San Antonio,” then maybe she had a good reason for not wanting the one-nighter spilled, either.

      Of course, that good reason might have something to do with blackmail, but for now Logan would use that possibility to his advantage. Besides, he didn’t want Lucky or anyone else to know he’d done something so stupid as to sleep with a woman he didn’t know.

      Lucky kept staring at him. “Reese and I chatted after you left,” his brother tossed out there. And he watched, no doubt to see how Logan would respond.

      Logan merely shrugged. At least he hoped that was the only thing his body was doing. “Let me guess—she flirted with you?” Easy guess because most women flirted with Lucky.

      “No flirting. She asked about our trucks, said she thought she’d seen me driving one.”

      Logan’s stomach tightened. He’d driven one of the company trucks to that San Antonio hotel, and if Reese had gotten a glimpse of it, then that could explain how she’d found him. Of course, he’d been on the cover of several Texas magazines, too, so perhaps that’s how she had made the connection.

      “You’re not going to tell me what this is really about, are you?” Lucky asked.

      Finally a question where Logan wouldn’t have to lie. “No. I need to talk to Della,” he said, heading for the kitchen.

      Logan didn’t have to ask if that’s where Della was. He followed the scent of something cinnamon-y to the kitchen and found her taking some fresh bread from the oven. Perhaps an attempt to cover up the bull crap outside, and if so, it was working.

      “Well, this is a surprise,” Della said. It managed to sound like a greeting and a scolding all at once. A scolding because it’d been a while since he’d been home. “Great news about Lucky and Cassie, huh? She went to the garden to find Stella to tell her. You okay with this?”

      “Of course.”

      “Okay with the ring, too?” Della pressed.

      “Of course.” Logan moved closer and thanked her when Della cut off a piece of the hot bread for him.

      “So, was it lucky timing that you were here for the proposal?” Della continued.

      Logan took a second, bobbling the hot bread in his hand and blowing on it. “Bert mentioned you were having something catered? Are you doing that for Lucky and Cassie?”

      “For Mia. It’s her fifth birthday in two weeks, and she wanted a fairy-princess tea party. I thought I’d have Reese do it.”

      Reese?

      So, they were on a first-name basis. Logan wanted to ask how that’d happened, but Della had an even better radar than Lucky. Logan definitely didn’t want her thinking there was something going on between Reese and him.

      “She’s got experience doing kids’ parties?” Logan asked.

      “Don’t know about that, but everybody in town is talking about what a good cook she is. She made these lemon thingies that folks are going on about.”

      “Yeah, I heard. But does she have experience doing kids’ parties?” he repeated.

      “Don’t know, but she’s obviously got experience baking. I’m having her do a cake and make some party food. She’ll be kinda busy what with Maggie’s female problems.” Della whispered those last two words as if it were some kind of secret. It wasn’t. Then she paused, nibbled on a piece of the cinnamon bread. “So, any word from Helene?”

      Logan had expected the third degree about his own well-being. Not that, though. “No. I won’t hear from her, either.” He waited, figuring there was more.

      There was.

      “Her mother, Mary, called me,” Della continued. “We’ve gotten to know each other over the years because of coordinating Helene’s schedule for family events and such. Anyway, I thought you should know that Helene had some kind of mental breakdown. She’s in a hospital in Houston.”

      Suddenly, the bread didn’t taste as sweet as it had a few seconds ago. Logan let the news sink in, and he was thankful that it wasn’t the heart-crushing blow it would have been just three months ago. Still, he wasn’t immune to the news because Helene had been in his life a long time.

      “You want to know any other details?” Della asked.

      Thankfully, Logan didn’t have to make a decision about that because his phone buzzed, and he saw the new text from the PI. The subject was Reese Stephens aka Reese Stephenson.

      So, that explained why the PI had found so little on her during his initial search. Stephenson was her real name. But clearly the PI had learned something else.

      “I need to read this,” Logan said to Della, and he went out onto the back porch.

      Reese’s age hadn’t changed from the original report. Ditto for her going to culinary school and moving around. But there was a whole lot more to the woman he’d bedded in that hotel.

      Logan read through the text, and once he got his jaw unclenched, he actually managed to say something.

      “Shit.”

       CHAPTER FIVE

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