Sidelines (Wounded Hearts #1) (18 page)

“Pink?” Logan asks as he stares down the poor kid again.

“Huh?” Lucy looks at him like he started playing some I Spy game without telling anyone.

“You asked me if I could guess what color Allie picked and I guess pink.” He gives me a small knowing smile as Carlos returns with the promised appetizer.

“Nope, but you’re close. And we all know that you look fantastic in this color.” Lucy giggles. Emma mirrors her brother’s knowing smile, pressing her lips together to suppress her own laughter. Logan’s eyebrows twist in confusion.

“She found these—well, really I found them, but she loved them. They’re so cute and then Emma just so happened to locate the best dress to go with them. It all came together like it was fate or somethi—”

“Lucy.” Logan demonstrates his lack of patience once again.

“Oh, sorry.” She grins almost nefariously and claps her hands in front of her while she bounces in her seat. “Purple!”

Logan doesn’t look nearly as enthusiastic about my color choice as his sister does. Emma nearly spits chips and queso across the table thanks to his reaction.

“I can take them back. It’s not a—”

“No. Purple’s fine,” he says gently. He narrows his eyes at his sister stylist. “Please tell me you picked something that I’ll actually like this year.”

She gives him an innocent smile. “Of course I did.” She pulls a bag I didn’t see her carry in out from under the table. She pulls both my dress and his shirt out, holding them both to the light and he nods appreciatively before turning to me.

“And you like it?”

“I do.”

“Then I like it too.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Ouch,” Owen, in his infinite patience, mumbles for probably the twentieth time. He didn’t seem to mind that he was recruited to help teach me how to dance for this soirée, but after a couple hours of my two left feet getting in the way and stomping all over his, I think he’s ready to be benched.

“Sorry.” I let my grip on him go and step back to run a frustrated hand over my face. “Let’s go back to that line dance we tried earlier. The Cantaloupe Creep?”

Emma sighs tiredly. “The Watermelon Crawl. And you only want to do that because you finally got it. You need to learn this.”

Logan miraculously appears in the kitchen. I didn’t hear him come in. And I might have been keeping an ear out for him. Maybe.

“Do I want to know what you’re doing?” he asks as he crosses his arms and leans against the opening between his kitchen and living room, a concerned look on his chiseled face.

“They’re trying to teach me some of the dances for tomorrow night. But I’m butchering the Two Step.”

“More like she’s butchering my toes.” Owen runs a hand through his already tousled blond hair.

I give him an apologetic look before glancing down at my pretty, new boots. “They won’t teach me how to square dance.”

“No, it’s not that we won’t. It’s more like we can’t. We’d need at least one more person, but really we would need the rest of the family to truly teach it.” Emma wraps her arms around Owen and lays an exhausted head on his shoulder.

“Hmm. Okay. Well I’m going to go shower. Mom called a little while ago. Dinner at her place in an hour. Why don’t you guys head on over, Allie and I’ll join you just as soon as we’re ready.”

Owen takes Emma’s hand and twirls her around a couple of times before dipping her—showing me that my failure has nothing to do with my teachers—and making Emma giggle. When he practically flips her back upright, her grin overtakes her face and she lays a wet one right right on the kisser, in front of her big brother. Logan scowls at them before pushing himself off the wall and stepping up to me. “You okay?”

I try not to let my disappointment in myself show. “Yeah, I’ll get it. I just hope I don’t break anyone’s foot in the process.” He glances back at Owen, who swings his and Emma’s hands between them as they make their way out.

“A broken toe or two would do that kid some good,” Logan mumbles before shouting his goodbyes. As soon as the door closes behind his sister and her boyfriend, I give his shoulder a little shove.

“Be nice. Owen was very patient with me today. More so than you were.”

Logan presses his lips together to try and hide his smile. He lifts one shoulder in nonchalance. “I was hungry. And if I remember correctly, so were you.”

He hasn’t stepped away and his closeness is starting to make me quiver. I try to take a deep breath to calm myself, but all I get is a lungful of his cologne mixed with dirt and a little bit of sweat. The combination is more appealing than it sounds. Way more appealing.

“I was. Thank you for lunch. And for my boots. And my outfit. You didn’t have to do all that.”

He breaks the trance he was trying to put me under and runs a hand through his hair. When his eyes meet mine again, I see his penitence. “I’m really sorry for how I reacted last night. I shouldn’t have blown up at you like I did.”

“It’s okay. I understand why you like to keep everything so private now. But…”

“You have a job to do,” he says understandably, surprising me with his consideration.

“Well, yeah.” Why do I suddenly feel guilty for this little tidbit? It’s not like I came here to try and be his friend. But somehow in the midst of practically living with him, I’ve come to feel like I know him on a level I’m not even on with most of the people I’m closest to.

The feel of his calloused hand on my cheek brings me out of myself and back to him. Somehow we’re suddenly so, so close. If he were to just tilt his face down just a—

The earsplitting ring of my cell pierces through the moment. Logan’s hand promptly drops to his side and we both turn away at the same time. By the time I have checked the caller ID and answered, I turn to find Logan all but sprinting up the stairs, making his getaway from me as quick as possible. Good. That’s a road I can’t even consider venturing down.

“Hey, Walt.”

“Hey, kiddo. How’s it going out in the wild west?”

“Walt,
you’re
the one on the West Coast and we both know Texas isn’t really that wild.” I plop down on the couch and kick my boots off before pulling my knees to my chest.

“You know what I mean. How ya doing, kid?”

The sounds of Logan’s shower kicking on gives me a freedom to speak freely. “I’m good. A little tired and a little frazzled, but overall, I’m okay.”

“Frazzled? What’s going on?”

Oh, I’ve played a game of cat and mouse with Logan all week, he finally snapped and told me his deepest, darkest secret, then ever since he’s used every possible excuse to invade my personal bubble. And did I mention that he asked me to a square dance…sort of. “Just have a lot going on. This is a big assignment and I’ve hit a couple of hiccups, but I think I’m starting to get through them.”

“He still giving you a hard time?” I love how Walt can see through my sugarcoating so easily.

“Well, he was. But I think we’ve finally figured out how to help each other.”

“Hmm. Well, stick with it, Allie Cat. Logan is one of the greats. I know what this opportunity means for you and I know that if you just stick with it, it’ll be worth so much more than you can possibly realize.”

Sometimes you just need a good cheerleader in your life. Walt’s always been that person for me.

“So, any chance he’s single?” Did I mention he’s also always trying to find someone to set me up with as well?

“He is, but—” The shower turns off upstairs. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Listen, kid. I know your job is important to you and all, but there are other things in life that can bring you joy. A good, strong relationship with a suitable companion is one of them. It wouldn’t hurt if he was a studly wide receiver who just so happens to love the game as much as you do, would it?”

“Walt.”

“I’m not getting any younger here, Al.”

“And I’m—” A door squeaks as it’s opened upstairs and my eyes lift just in time to watch the object of our conversation emerge from his room, freshly showered and in another great pair of jeans.

“Allie.”

“Yeah, I need to go. I love you.” Logan’s head turns just enough to let me know he’s officially eavesdropping.

“Love you, too, kid. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Oh.” I feel a blush creep up my neck as Logan descends the last of the stairs and takes a seat on a couch opposite me to put on a pair of sneakers. “I, um, I have plans tomorrow night.”

“With Logan?”

“Sort of.”

“You’re being awfully vague there, Allie.”

“Okay, yes. With Logan. And his family.” I can practically hear his cheshire grin.

“Alright, well don’t forget to check in with me on Monday then.”

“Go watch reruns of Seinfeld, Walt.”

He chuckles. “I love you, kid.”

“I love you, too. Night, Walt.”

Logan looks up as I stand and run my hands over the jean shorts I changed into when I got back.

“Walt.” He doesn’t ask, but I know he wants to.

“He’s my…dad. Well, my adopted father anyway.”

Something that looks suspiciously like relief flashes over Logan’s face, very briefly, before he smooths his features over again. “I see.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t get to change. I’ll just—” I flail my hands around, my thoughts all tangled up as he stands and takes a step toward me.

“You look just fine, Allie.”

I pull my eyes away from him and look down at the boots-shorts combo and shake my head. “I’m going to grab different shoes. One sec.”

Turning so quickly I almost fall back onto the couch I just was on, I brace myself and carefully make my way back to my room to get different shoes. I pick up a pair of sandals and put them on. When I return to the kitchen with my purse in hand, Logan checks out my toes before smiling to himself and leading the way out to his truck.

I tell him about the different dances Emma and Owen attempted to teach me and ask him a million questions about the celebration as he drives us to his parents’ house. I think he’s second guessing bringing me along by the time we actually pull into their driveway because I fire off questions faster than Jimmy can run drills with him. They aren’t called the Dynamic Duo for nothing, and Logan’s mental capacity to keep up with my constant questions is just as sharp as his ability to change routes and catch a ball.

“Hey, guys,” Lucy greets us on the porch again. “Emma says that dancing lessons were a bust.”

“I did not say that!” Emma’s disembodied voice shouts as we make our way inside.

We step into the living room to see Emma and Owen doing their own dance of setting the table. “Don’t feel bad, Emma. I know I’m not the best student. You guys are great teachers, really. I just don’t know if this dance thing is going to be for me. ”

Jillian practically sashays in from the kitchen and gives Logan and me the biggest smile. “Oh, I’m betting you just need the right partner.” She winks at Logan and I immediately feel him shift uncomfortably at my side. He’s once again within touching distance and a little voice in the back of my head reminds me that I really need to start creating some space.

“What can I help with?” Making my way through the archway to the dining room, I take a dish of roast beef, stewed potatoes and carrots from Jillian and turn to set it on the table.

“I’ll just grab the salad. What would you like to drink, hon?” Jillian lays a soft hand on my arm and the touch startles me. Not like when Logan touches me, but like the kindness and tenderness that comes from it is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

“I, um…”

“Sweet tea for both of us, please.” Once again, he’s not far away, maybe a foot or two behind me. It’s like he can’t get his fill of me today. I shake the thought from my head and give Jillian a smile.

“Yes, tea please,” I confirm before throwing Logan a look over my shoulder.

“What?”

You’re in my bubble. “Sweet tea?”

He shrugs and pulls a chair out for me. “When in Rome.”

The rest of the Lassiter family congregates around the table, a joyful Sam following Jillian while balancing five glasses in his hands. Logan rushes over to help his father and I watch the pride and appreciation in Sam’s face. This family is so…connected. They tune into each other on levels I’ve never witnessed before. I can’t help but watch silently as Logan sets our glasses in our places and absorb the ease and comfortability in which everyone interacts with one another. Owen lays an arm across the back of Emma’s chair as he gives Lucy a hard time about not having her wardrobe choices made for a fundraiser Emma is hosting next week. Emma leans into Owen as she answers Jillian’s questions about said fundraiser. Logan and his father talk about his purchases from the cattle auction this morning while Sam rubs his fingers into the nape of Jillian’s neck. Everyone relaxed and at ease with each other, functioning as one unit.

What I wouldn’t give to have had this growing up.

“Let’s say grace.” Sam’s quick clap pulls me from my musings while simultaneously muting the chatter around the table. He reaches his hands out and takes up Jillian’s and Lucy’s hands and everyone follows suit. Lucy grins at me as she takes my hand, but it’s the warmth from the hand to my left that brings me a sense of welcoming. By the time I glance at Logan, he already has his head bowed, but a satisfied grin lays across his lips.

“Father, we thank you for a fruitful day. We come to this table, humbled by your grace and thankful for your forgiveness. May our time together tonight be a blessing to each other and this food be blessed to the nourishment of our bodies. We thank you for your goodness and ask that you’d be with us throughout every second of the day. Oh, and please give Allie the knowledge and grace to learn to dance. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

Heat flushes my cheeks at the snickers and giggles from around the table. A squeeze to my left hand pulls my attention. Logan gives me a lopsided grin before reaching for the bowl of salad and handing it to me.

The conversation drifts all over the place, from crop issues to the progress the town has already made after the storm and how everything will be ready for the upcoming celebration as we all feast on the wonderful home cooking.

“Oh, I’ll need some help with the rolls and salads tomorrow after church. Emma, are you guys coming to church here or in the city tomorrow?” Jillian shifts in her seat so that she naturally gravitates to Sam. He wipes his face with his napkin and does the same thing, leaning on the arm he lays on the back of her seat.

I quickly turn to Logan. “Do we need to make anything to bring? It’s a potluck thing, right?”

He gives me a polite grin. “You don’t have to, but if you want to, I’m sure the rest of Walker wouldn’t mind some of your goodies.”