“Easy, buddy.” He patted his hand. “I want you to sleep right now, okay?”
Michael smiled. “Okay. Will you still be here when I wake up?”
Logan’s throat felt tight. “I’ll be here.”
Logan crossed to his desk and tried the phone. The line was dead, and he wondered if they would lose power too. Yet even if they did, they would be fine riding out the storm at the bar. They had food and medicine, and the property was much more high ground than low.
When Jessie limped to sit in one of the chairs across from his desk, he put the telephone receiver back on the cradle and walked around to her. He squatted and placed his hand on her ankle, palpating her leg, ankle, and foot.
“Logan?”
He looked up from the floor and into Jessie’s pained gaze. “Yeah?”
“Thank you. You saved Michael’s life.”
He nodded and continued to check her over. He was ashamed and embarrassed about how he’d treated her. “Your ankle is just a little extended.” He walked to the closet and pulled out an instant cold pack.
“Logan, did you hear me? You saved Michael.”
He broke the internal pocket on the cold pack and placed it on her ankle. She inhaled through clenched teeth when the frozen packet made contact with her skin.
He reverently rested his hand on her knee as he bowed his head. “Jessie, I’m sorry about what happened in Florida. So very sorry. I was an ass. Can you forgive me?”
She placed her hands on his face and lifted his head. “I’m falling in love with you. And I want you to give Michael and me a chance. When I left St. Augustine, I actually wasn’t planning on speaking to you again, but I’ve realized something these last few moments.” She tilted her head at him and leaned forward to sweetly kiss his lips. “I want to fight for you. I intend to fight for you. I just need to know if you trust me enough to be real with me.”
Recognizing the power of the fight in her, he knew he could trust her with his life. She would stop at nothing to protect the ones she loved, and she’d said she might love him. He didn’t deserve her, but he selfishly would take her. “Yes, I trust you.”
Jessie smiled. “Really?”
He nodded. “In fact, I’m not falling in love with you, I already have.”
He scooped her from the chair so he could sit beneath her and positioned her on his waiting lap. Then he turned the chair so they could both keep an eye on Michael. He wrapped his arms around her, pressed his cheek to hers, and held her close. And that quickly, after days of being off kilter and without an anchor, his center was restored and he could breathe easily again.
“Why don’t you start with telling me about how you became a brewmaster and not a doctor?”
He smiled against her neck. His practical lady was always straight and to the point. “I’d sort of promised my father I’d be a doctor, just like him.”
She pulled back to frown at him, her brow furrowed with confusion. “I didn’t know Mr. St. Martin was a doctor. I thought he was a builder.”
Logan had never shared this story with anyone. He’d put a lid on it, effectively pushing the contents deep down inside. He didn’t know how it would sound or how she would react. Hell, he wasn’t sure how he would react or if he could even get through the telling of it. He swallowed back the knot in his throat. “Clifton St. Martin adopted me when my parents died. My father before him had been Dave Champagne. I was ten years old when I found my parents dead in our home.”
Jessie’s breath hitched, and her fingers squeezed his arm.
He lowered his eyes as he recalled the scene.
“The school bus had dropped me at the corner. There were only two houses on the street, the O’Neil’s and ours. It was about a quarter mile walk from the bus drop to my home, and I saw a car pulling away from the curb next to the house. As it approached I could see the windows were very dark, so dark I couldn’t make out anything but the outside. It was
Michael smiled. “Okay. Will you still be here when I wake up?”
Logan’s throat felt tight. “I’ll be here.”
Logan crossed to his desk and tried the phone. The line was dead, and he wondered if they would lose power too. Yet even if they did, they would be fine riding out the storm at the bar. They had food and medicine, and the property was much more high ground than low.
When Jessie limped to sit in one of the chairs across from his desk, he put the telephone receiver back on the cradle and walked around to her. He squatted and placed his hand on her ankle, palpating her leg, ankle, and foot.
“Logan?”
He looked up from the floor and into Jessie’s pained gaze. “Yeah?”
“Thank you. You saved Michael’s life.”
He nodded and continued to check her over. He was ashamed and embarrassed about how he’d treated her. “Your ankle is just a little extended.” He walked to the closet and pulled out an instant cold pack.
“Logan, did you hear me? You saved Michael.”
He broke the internal pocket on the cold pack and placed it on her ankle. She inhaled through clenched teeth when the frozen packet made contact with her skin.
He reverently rested his hand on her knee as he bowed his head. “Jessie, I’m sorry about what happened in Florida. So very sorry. I was an ass. Can you forgive me?”
She placed her hands on his face and lifted his head. “I’m falling in love with you. And I want you to give Michael and me a chance. When I left St. Augustine, I actually wasn’t planning on speaking to you again, but I’ve realized something these last few moments.” She tilted her head at him and leaned forward to sweetly kiss his lips. “I want to fight for you. I intend to fight for you. I just need to know if you trust me enough to be real with me.”
Recognizing the power of the fight in her, he knew he could trust her with his life. She would stop at nothing to protect the ones she loved, and she’d said she might love him. He didn’t deserve her, but he selfishly would take her. “Yes, I trust you.”
Jessie smiled. “Really?”
He nodded. “In fact, I’m not falling in love with you, I already have.”
He scooped her from the chair so he could sit beneath her and positioned her on his waiting lap. Then he turned the chair so they could both keep an eye on Michael. He wrapped his arms around her, pressed his cheek to hers, and held her close. And that quickly, after days of being off kilter and without an anchor, his center was restored and he could breathe easily again.
“Why don’t you start with telling me about how you became a brewmaster and not a doctor?”
He smiled against her neck. His practical lady was always straight and to the point. “I’d sort of promised my father I’d be a doctor, just like him.”
She pulled back to frown at him, her brow furrowed with confusion. “I didn’t know Mr. St. Martin was a doctor. I thought he was a builder.”
Logan had never shared this story with anyone. He’d put a lid on it, effectively pushing the contents deep down inside. He didn’t know how it would sound or how she would react. Hell, he wasn’t sure how he would react or if he could even get through the telling of it. He swallowed back the knot in his throat. “Clifton St. Martin adopted me when my parents died. My father before him had been Dave Champagne. I was ten years old when I found my parents dead in our home.”
Jessie’s breath hitched, and her fingers squeezed his arm.
He lowered his eyes as he recalled the scene.
“The school bus had dropped me at the corner. There were only two houses on the street, the O’Neil’s and ours. It was about a quarter mile walk from the bus drop to my home, and I saw a car pulling away from the curb next to the house. As it approached I could see the windows were very dark, so dark I couldn’t make out anything but the outside. It was
Similar Books
