Page 7

SEVEN

MJ

The crisp September air carried the scent of baked goods and spiced honey as I strolled through the farmers’ market, the sleeves of my purple sweater pulled down over my hands. Stalls brimmed with pumpkins, squash, and the last of the summer blooms. Fall had officially taken over Outtatowner, and the locals were leaning into the season with jars of homemade jam, apple cider doughnuts, and bundles of cornstalks tied with orange ribbons.

I made my way toward my brother-in-law Duke’s farmstand, where a line of customers admired baskets overflowing with plump blueberries and jars of deep violet jam. Duke, as grumpy as ever, stood behind the counter, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

Nowadays there was something softer about him as he handed a jar of jam to a small boy who beamed up at him before skipping off. My sister, Sylvie, had definitely worked some magic on him, and the thought made me smile.

“Hey, Dukey,” I singsonged as I approached, slipping my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

“MJ,” he greeted, his tone brusque but his eyes warm. “Come for the jam or just to hassle me?”

“Both,” I said with a grin, scanning the display. “You still got that blueberry-lavender one? Bug’s been raving about it.”

“Last jar is yours if you want it,” he said, reaching under the counter and pulling out a small jar with a neatly tied red gingham ribbon.

I wrinkled my nose at him. “You better stop being such a softie.” I leaned in to whisper. “Everyone’s starting to notice.”

He harrumphed from behind his table, and I laughed. Teasing Duke made everything almost feel normal again.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Logan’s playful voice floated over my shoulder and I froze.

Duke’s eyes narrowed as I stayed pinned in place.

When Duke married my sister and the King-Sullivan rivalry fell to the wayside, I’d somehow unintentionally inherited three more overprotective brothers.

But I’d be lying if I didn’t say that at this particular moment, I didn’t hate how intimidating Duke Sullivan’s presence could be. I had no doubt my sister had filled Duke in on my embarrassing encounter with Logan at the bookstore.

I turned and acted confused. “Oh, I’m sorry, do we know each other?”

Unfazed, Logan laughed and reached a hand across the table to Duke. “Hi. I’m Logan.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to me as a casual smirk tugged at his lips.

His smirk was infuriating, the kind of grin that said he was used to winning, used to women falling at his feet. I wanted to hate it. I wanted to hate him . But the way my pulse kicked up every time he leaned closer told me my body wasn’t exactly on my side.

He looked annoyingly handsome in a plaid shirt over a navy Henley that stretched across his broad chest and a pair of jeans that had definitely seen better days. His hair was slightly tousled, like he’d just rolled out of bed, and I hated that my first thought was wondering whether someone else had occupied that bed with him.

Reluctantly, Duke stretched out his arm and placed his hand in Logan’s. I watched as their hands squeezed between me.

It was a bizarre and humorous display of masculinity that nearly made me giggle.

I placed the small jam jar into the knit shopping bag on my arm and raised it to Duke. “Thanks for the jam. I’ll see you around.”

Duke’s expression softened as he nodded. Without looking at Logan, I left the Sullivan Farms stand and continued walking through the farmers’ market.

Logan followed, a quiet shadow only steps behind me.

“Logan,” I said, stopping short and fixing him with a look.

He tilted his head, that damn smirk still playing on his face. “Yes?”

He tried his best to look innocent, but I could see right through him. I shook my head and kept walking.

Logan fell into step beside me. “That color purple looks amazing on you, by the way. I think it just might be my favorite color.”

“You’re relentless,” I muttered, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back, his tone light. “It might mean we’re a good match.”

“We’re not a match at all,” I replied, tugging my sweater sleeves over my hands as the breeze picked up.

Can you imagine? A pro athlete with his choice of women throwing themselves at his feet and him choosing me ?

A scoff escaped through my nose, but I think he mistook it for flirting, because he inched closer. “I think you see it too,” he teased, his grin widening.

I stopped walking and turned to face him. “Logan, why are you following me?”

His grin was disarming, but his tone was casual. “Because you haven’t told me to stop.”

I fought back a smile. I hated that he was right.

With a half-hearted huff, I asked, “What do you want?”

His expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes giving way to something more genuine. “My grandfather is an excellent judge of character, and he likes you. Plus, maybe I just like talking to you.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat as the wind tugged a strand of hair across my face. Before I could brush it away, Logan reached out, his fingers tucking it gently behind my ear. The gesture was quick, but the warmth of his fingertips lingered, and I suddenly felt like the air had been knocked out of me.

Logan was Trent’s best friend. My mind should not be wandering to the what-if s.

His hand dropped, and he stepped back slightly, giving me space. “You’re really easy to fluster, you know that?”

“Maybe stop trying to fluster me, then,” I muttered, though my voice lacked the bite I’d intended.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, as he stepped closer. “Can’t help it. I find you...fascinating, MJ.”

I held his gaze with a defiant lift of my chin. “Fascinating because I’m not tripping over myself on the way to your bed?”

A laugh shot from him. “I wasn’t thinking about that, but I sure as hell am now.”

I snorted a laugh through my nose and glanced at the table beside us, pretending to study a display of homemade candles. “I promise I am the least interesting person in this town.”

A deep noise rumbled in his throat. “I seriously doubt that.”

Fighting a smile, I kept walking. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?”

“Nerve,” he repeated, his voice tinged with amusement. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

I playfully rolled my eyes and scanned a display of fresh flowers. “It’s not.”

“Sure it is,” he said, leaning casually against the table, his eyes never leaving mine. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t still be talking to me.”

I sighed, trying to ignore the fluttering in my stomach as I picked up a small vase and pretended to inspect it. “You’re insufferable.”

I could feel his attention on me. “And you’re adorable when you’re annoyed.”

I shot him a glare, but the heat in his gaze had my pulse racing. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere else? Practicing? Putting that flannel to good use by chopping wood with your bare hands or doing something equally ridiculous?”

He laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “Trust me, I’m exactly where I want to be.”

The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

He wasn’t just casually flirting. He meant it. And that was more terrifying than anything he could have said.

I cleared my throat, shoving the vase back onto the table. “Well, enjoy the market. I’ve got things to do.”

Before he could respond, I turned and walked away, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Are you still thinking about coming to a match?” he asked.

I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder one last time, fighting a grin. “Still thinking.” I tapped my temple.

Logan stood there, watching me with that infuriating smirk, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

* * *

I stared up at JP’s secluded house in awe. It was tucked against the tree line, its black siding nearly disappearing into the forest behind it. The large yard was sprawling as it crept toward the sand dune cliff that led to Lake Michigan. Parked on the side of the house was Hazel’s big white skoolie—a renovated school bus she’d used to travel across the country.

Behind me, Duke’s truck rolled down the driveway and I smiled. Duke got out and nodded at me before getting their son from the back seat. Sylvie grinned and held up a covered dish.

I lifted the boxed pie I’d purchased from the Sugar Bowl and shrugged. When she stepped beside me, I turned back to JP’s house. “He’s hosting . Did you ever imagine?”

Sylvie’s grin widened as though she’d known all along that JP would find his way. Her shoulder bumped playfully into mine. “Hazel’s a witch, remember?”

I giggled and shook my head. We all knew Hazel was the one for JP. She had a flair for the dramatic and a slightly witchy side, which should have sent JP running. Instead, she’d completely charmed him.

Teddy came barreling outside, launching his seven-year-old body off the porch steps. “Hi!” he shouted, without ever looking back. There was no denying that Teddy shared JP’s DNA––everything about him reminded me of my older brother, right down to his uptight wardrobe. My chest pinched thinking about how little Teddy had finally found his place within our family.

Hazel followed behind him with a smile. “Hi!” Her smile was bright and friendly as she waved. Behind her, JP scowled, and the stark opposition of their expressions made me laugh.

“Teddy! Wait up!” She clambered down the steps. “That kid doesn’t slow down for a second.”

“You’re not hanging around?” I asked, disappointed because I’d been enjoying getting to know Hazel.

She grinned. “Not tonight. Teddy was promised a playdate with Ben and Tillie, so Sloane and I are taking them to town.” Hazel looked at the driveway. “No Bug?” she asked as she adjusted the strap of her purse.

I shrugged. “She said she was going to see a movie with a friend.”

“Huh,” Hazel said with a mischievous bounce of her eyebrows. “Sloane said the same thing about her granddad. See you later, alligators.”

Hazel left me standing there, wondering when my aunt was going to finally admit she and Sloane’s grandfather Bax were an item. Their friendly conversations had turned into daily coffee and walks on the pier. I smiled inwardly, and a soft noise rattled in my throat as I shook my head.

They always used his grandkids as an excuse, but I knew he was the source of the blush on her cheeks whenever his name came up.

When Duke stepped up beside us with Gus on his hip, I frowned. “Hey, I thought Red was coming today.”

Sylvie didn’t meet my eyes, but she grinned up at JP’s house. “He’s behind us.”

My face twisted. Ever since Red had moved to the semi-independent condos, I’d missed him. While the trial medication was doing wonders for slowing his early-onset dementia, there was no way he was able to drive himself to JP’s house.

Sylvie didn’t make it any clearer when she lifted her eyebrows and smiled before sailing past me and walking with Duke into the house.

As Hazel maneuvered her skoolie out of the driveway, she honked twice and waved out the window at another truck rolling down the drive.

This time, my heart dropped.

From the driver’s seat, Logan grinned. Beside him was Arthur, and Red was in the back seat of the cab.

“What in the world ...” I whispered to myself as I stared and watched Logan park his truck next to Duke’s in JP’s driveway.

I was rooted to the spot.

“MJ!” Arthur clapped his hands together after climbing out of the truck. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

He walked up to me, planting his hands on my shoulders and giving them a squeeze.

“Hi, Mr. Brown.” I looked directly at Logan. “This is a surprise.”

Arthur chuckled as Red walked up. “Hey, kiddo. It’s been a while.”

Tears pricked at my eyelids as my heart swelled for Red Sullivan. “Hey, Red.”

I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed. It was so easy to recall the bad days—the ones when he was confused and scared. So many times it seemed like I was the only one who could help calm him down and remind him he was safe and cared for. Now it was like he was a new man. There would likely always be a wary, confused suspicion in his blue eyes, but today they were bright and clear.

A good day.

He looked down at me. “I can’t promise the coffee is any better at my place, but there’s a cup waiting for you when you want to catch up.”

I swallowed back emotion. “Next week. It’s a date.”

Red winked at me as Arthur gestured to him. “Let’s go. My parole is up in a few hours. Let’s cause some trouble.”

A laugh shot from my chest as I leaned into Red’s embrace one last time. The two men climbed the steps to JP’s house, and my brother opened the door for him with a confused look. His eyes darted to me, and I lifted my shoulders. His stare darkened when he looked past me at Logan. I gave him the tiniest of nods to let him know I could handle myself.

Satisfied, my overprotective brother disappeared inside the house.

“How do I get one of those?” Logan’s deep voice floated over my shoulder, and liquid heat followed in its wake.

“A date?” I asked, turning to him.

He crossed his arms and looked around JP’s property. “A date. One of those hugs. I’m not picky.”

I lifted an eyebrow and climbed the porch steps. “Be charming and handsome and over the age of fifty-five.”

His arms spread as wide as his grin. “Two out of three ain’t bad.”

I rolled my eyes, looking down at him from the top step. “I’m serious. What are you doing at my brother’s house?”

Logan sighed and slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Grandpa is very popular. He makes a lot of friends. Red invited him, and he needed me to break him out.”

My eyes narrowed. “Convenient.”

He sauntered up the steps, pausing when he got next to me. “Isn’t it?”

Logan walked right into the house, folding himself into the fabric of my family.

I stood on the porch and steadied my breathing. I refused to let Logan get under my skin. The last thing I needed was another reminder of how disarming he could be.

With a resigned sigh, I carried my box of pecan pie into the house.

Dinner was surprisingly fun—Arthur and Red got along so well it was no wonder they’d formed a fast friendship. Arthur didn’t seem to mind at all when Red repeated himself or slipped into an old story that made it sound like he was thirty and raising young children again. Together they never missed a beat, and hearing both of their laughter was soothing to my soul.

Sylvie poked and prodded JP about Hazel and Teddy. His face was stern, but I could tell he was hiding something, because the tips of his ears turned red anytime the woman in his life was brought up.

All the while I could feel Logan’s eyes on me. He was charming and fit seamlessly into the patchwork quilt that was my family. While Duke and JP talked business, Logan never missed a beat. When Red reminisced about Duke’s rodeo days as a bulldogger, Logan leaned forward, the roped muscles of his forearms flexing as he listened. After supper was done, Logan hopped up to help clear the table and start loading the dishwasher.

I watched as Duke, JP, and Logan worked together to clear dishes, like they’d done it a thousand times before.

Red stepped up beside me, leaning down to whisper. “It’s not every day you get an Olympic athlete hanging around your workplace. Seems like a waste not to take advantage.”

“Not helping, Red,” I whispered through gritted teeth. My traitorous friend only chuckled beside me.

As if he knew we were talking about him, Logan looked over his shoulder. His eyes immediately caught mine, and he winked.

Heat flooded my system. It felt as though the room narrowed around me as a tingle raced up my spine.

I hated how easy it was for him to unnerve me, to peel back defenses I’d worked so hard to keep in place.

But would it really be so bad?

For as long as I could remember, I’d been the good girl who made safe choices. Something about the look in Logan’s eyes made it all too easy to wonder what it would be like to be bad , just for once.

I took a deep breath.

It’s just another day. Another dinner. This is nothing.

But the way Logan’s gaze lingered, like I was someone worth figuring out, made me wonder if maybe he wasn’t the problem.

Maybe the problem was how much I wanted him to try.