Page 2 of Break the Barrier

The thought of that favor makes my cheeks burn.

I can’t believe I actually asked him.

Not only did I ask, but I also drew up a contract.

But…desperate times.

I was feeling threatened, worried for my safety and the safety of my bar, and the safety of my sisters.

Somehow, this was the solution that hit me.

I could ask Logan, who’d become something of a good friend over the few years we’d been here, to help me out by pretendingto be my husband and assume financial responsibility of my assets.

It was all in the name of protection.

Logan had looked at me like I’d grown an extra head, with whiskers and a tail and maybe even some purple spots or something too.

I knew the moment it left my mouth that it was the stupidest thing to do.

Not only had he not technically responded—although I did let him set up his dartboards—but he was now badgering me to know what this was all about.

And that is why it was stupid.

My business was just that—mine. I didn’t need some rough-and-tumble cowboy to come in and try and save me.

Although that is basically what I asked of him.

I sigh and start to turn away, but before I can do so, Logan’s eye catches my own, and he gives me a look that sends a shiver of what should probably be terror, but feels more like delight, zipping down my spine.

Oh god. Why, why did I do this to myself?

I take strong, measured steps toward him and attempt to come up with some sort of measly excuse for my actions on the way. And even though the bar top is about thirty or forty feet long, and I have to weave in and out of my employees on the way as they refill our generous customers’ drinks, I still make it to Logan in no time at all.

“Dorothy.” His deep voice moves right through me, and I cross my arms at the stupid effect he has on me.

“Logan.” He’s the only one in the world who calls me Dorothy, and I kind of don’t hate it, which I hate. My voice catches, and I clear it before I raise my chin and meet his greeneyes. At six foot three, I have to look up at him, even when I’m five foot eight, and his towering height makes me want to tuck tail and run right into the back room. “What is it you need?”

He raises an eyebrow at me and leans an arm against the bar. “You gonna act like you don’t know?”

There was something about the way he spoke, it wasn’t a southern accent, considering he was from here, but there was still something so…country about it that made me want to listen to him speak all day.

Just…not to me.

“Let me see,” I start, turning to face the barback and grabbing a towel. Anything to keep my hands busy. “Did you need some more dartboards? I’m not sure we can spare the room.”

“This is not about dartboards, Thea.” He growls, stepping behind the bar and into my space. I glance to the left and see my sister Annmarie smirking at the scene. So not helping. Thank you, little sister.

“Logan.” I take a deep breath, which is the wrong move because his cologne invades my senses, and I’m suddenly not able to think or speak.

“Thea, if something is going on with you, I want to help.”

I glance at him and can tell he’s being completely serious. And I know he would help, that’s just the kind of guy he is.

“I know. I just, I’m sorry for springing what I did on you.”

He sighs and lets his hands find purchase on the bar, so we’re behind it with my back to it where everyone can see him leaning over me.

His eyes catch mine, and I can see how much this is concerning him, which was never my intention. “You need someone to marry you?”