Wild Girl: A Cowboy Romance Trilogy (Wild Men Texas Book 3) Page 7

  I shook my head. “No, but I thought I’d be able to go to Homecoming, just for fun. Like a normal seventeen-year-old girl. I forget my life isn’t close to normal.”

  “How long do you think y’all will have to live there this time?”

  “I don’t know. Daddy defaulted on the mortgage again. He still swears he’ll get the house back, but you know, he just got out of rehab and now we lost our liquor license.”

  “Rehab,” Logan said flatly.

  “Yeah, he was doing a shot with some blond bimbo before the police came and shut us down, so rehab looks like a smashing success from where I’m standing.”

  Logan took my hand and led me to his truck. “Let’s go to the creek.”

  Once we got there, we stood side by side, staring out at the water with even the ducks sleeping at our feet, and I turned to Logan. “Do you think we’ll be the last two virgins in Darcy?”

  Logan looked at me, startled. “Do you want to lose it?”

  “Of course. Don’t you?”

  He nodded. “But only to you.”

  “Crap.” I raise my eyes from the page. “I forgot that this entry spills past my family issues and goes into details of us...” My hormones are dancing again, and I cross my legs together tightly.

  “That’s okay. I want to hear about another year in the life of Austen Macey Henwood.” Logan’s tone may be light, but the intensity of his statement hangs heavy in the bar air.

  I scrape my nail along the cement floor of the jail cell and don’t answer him for over a minute.

  When I finally look up, he’s watching me.

  I whisper, “You know what this part is going to be about, and…”

  You’re pretty much the undisputed star of the rest of the entry.

  Logan’s hand touches my knee again. “I want to hear what was in your head,” he says.

  “Okay.” And I keep going…

  My face burned, and I tried to walk away, but Logan caught me by the arm and turned me toward him.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  I looked at him, about to cry for some reason. And then, I did start to cry, and I couldn’t stop. And Logan put his arms around me and kissed the salty tears off my cheek.

  I pulled my head back to look at him, to look deep into his eyes. I leaned forward until I could kiss him gently on the mouth. He put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me closer until I didn’t remember anything about house liens and liquor licenses. All I remembered was Logan’s lips on mine, insistently kissing me until I opened up and let his tongue inside.

  I dragged my head back from his. “Only if we make a pact,” I said in an almost desperate voice.

  “A pact? You mean like a no commitment pact?” He nodded. “I like that idea. That way we can go right back to being friends after.”

  “Exactly. No strings, no attachments, no pressure. No dates, no beds, and no commitment. Ever.”

  He stared at me. “Seriously? I’m on board with the no strings and no commitment. I don’t want that kind of stress either. But what does ‘ever’ mean?”

  “Forever.” I shrugged. “We never get married—to each other or to anybody else.”

  “Why no one else, Mace?” His eyes danced with amusement like he knew.

  I went silent for a moment.

  Because I want to keep you for myself, and casual is all I can ever handle. Casual is all I ever deserve.

  “Wait. Stop for a second.” Logan puts his hand on my thigh. “That’s not what you said to me then.”

  “I know. I said this, ‘Because you and I aren’t made for marriage, Logan. We’re free spirits, and we have to make sure we don’t get trapped. So if we make the promise to each other, we’ll keep each other safe from prison. Deal?’”

  Logan’s hand is still on my leg. “Yes, we’re free spirits. But is the truth that you don’t think you deserve a real relationship? Is that what you still feel?”

  I shake my head. “No. Of course not. I’m just meant to be single. Can we please continue?”

  He nods but keeps his hand on me.

  Logan’s eyes glowed in the moonlight, and his full mouth twisted into a sort of smile, a sort of frown. “So a lifetime pact to always be alone.”

  “A lifetime pact to always be independent, and to never hold each other back. We’ll always let each other go afterward.”

  Logan’s eyes locked with mine. “So if we make this pact and have sex, can we have sex again as long as we let each other go after?”

  Every hormone in my body vibrated. “Yes.”

  “But if it’s hard to let go, we’ll have to pull back and do it less often,” Logan said.

  “Okay. That makes sense. Once a year, maybe?”

  “Yeah, once a year sounds good,” he said. “Granted, you and I are crazy, right? We think we can control sex.”

  “And feelings,” I whispered. I could hear the franticness in my voice when I added, “But I have to control them. Or else, I can’t do this with you.”

  Logan looked at me for over a minute in silence. Just when I was sure he’d say no, he stuck out his hand, and I shook it.

  He nodded once at me. “I think this will work. At the very least, I’m willing to try. Let’s make the pact.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “We made a pact,” I say in a bare whisper. “But it was silly to say forever. And I want you to be happy, Logan. It was unfair of me to ask you to stay unattached just because I had to.”

  “One, you didn’t force me to do anything. I wanted the same things you did. And two, you lied to me then.” Emotion is making his voice gravelly. “You wanted more and didn’t think you could get it. Why?”

  “You know my parents as well as I do. And you know what the whole town says about them: ‘Mama’s crazy as a hatter, and Daddy can’t walk a straight line.’”

  “So what?” he says. “So what if they’re who they are? You’re you.”

  “Yeah, and I got to take care of them and their kids for my whole life. I was their first mistake, and I’m the reason they married in the first place. So I owed them.”

  “Bullcrap. You didn’t owe them anything! You deserve happiness as much as anybody else, maybe more.”

  Logan’s lips are so close I want to throw my mouth on his and not look back. Instead, I turn back to my diary.

  We got into Logan’s truck without a word, and he drove down the nearest dirt road. When the clutch stuck, he pulled me close until our lips found each other’s underneath the moon.

  “I have protection,” he said into my ear. “Here in the truck.”

  I looked at him. “When did you buy it?”

  “After the day we spent in the wildflowers.”

  My stomach clenched. “You bought condoms for me?”

  “For us. We’ll always be safe, Mace.”

  I kissed him. And then, it just happened. Naturally and perfectly. We took off each other’s clothes, every last piece of clothing, including all the pins I’d used to tie up my hair. I let my waves down, and Logan tangled them up in his hands as he used his lips to turn me on in every way possible. I helped him with the condom, and then I let him inside me without hesitation. We stayed intertwined for a long time.

  I called out his name when I slipped over the edge, my eyes fastened on his.

  “Jesus, Macey.” He fell right after me, his teeth lightly grazing my shoulder as he wrapped his arms tightly around me. “You’re beautiful.”

  The air has grown so thick inside the cell that I swear I can see a mist swirling around us. My legs stay tightly closed, and I work to control my breathing so I don’t sound as utterly turned on as I feel inside.

  And I held him, and he held me, for hours afterwards.

  When dawn broke, I shifted and told him I should put some clothes on.

  “You don’t need clothes.” He touched my stomach and kissed my breast. “You’re perfect just as you are.”

  The experience was different in the light, somehow, l
ike the night had been protecting me, and now I felt vulnerable and nervous. But Logan wasn’t nervous, and he told me not to be silly as he threw my dress back on the floor and knelt next to my naked body in the back seat.

  “You’re gorgeous.” He kissed my breast again. “So freaking gorgeous.”

  I closed my eyes and cried out as he moved his lips slowly down my body.

  “Once a year is gonna be hard,” he said into my heated skin.

  “You’ll date other girls,” I panted as his mouth went lower. “And they’ll help you to forget about me.”

  I drag my gaze to his now. “See? Already forgotten.”

  Logan doesn’t laugh like I meant for him to. He just starts running his thumb over and over the heated skin just above my knee.

  And my traitorous body reacts. God, how it reacts. My nipples feel like they’re going to break through my shirt.

  I duck my head and keep reading.

  Logan laughed and moved my thighs apart so he could make me come undone again, this time with his mouth. “I doubt that.”

  But just because we had sex didn’t change anything. We parted afterwards just as we always had, with hardly a good-bye. Exactly like we said would be best for us.

  I thought about Logan all week. I fantasized about his body, and his mouth, and his hardness that made me feel so good inside.

  But I was proud of myself. For staying independent. And strong. The exact opposite of Mama and what she’s put me through my whole life.

  That weekend, Logan and I met up in town. I fell in love with a ruby ring at the Jane Austen-themed auction thrown by the Darcy Museum. I had no money because I’d used up every ounce of my savings to bail Daddy out of jail that awful night he got caught speeding with an open container next to him in the truck. So I told Logan “Let’s just leave,” because I didn’t want to see who won what I wanted so badly.

  But Logan told me he had this. And he used his savings to beat out all the Jane Austen-obsessed women in town, including Mama, and he won me the ring. I became famous for a summer—“Logan Wild won Macey Henwood that beautiful ring at the auction. I think it looks too old for her myself, but I suppose she’ll grow into it when she’s matured a bit. And what a romantic that boy is. The ring could pass for an engagement ring if they were older.”

  I smile over at Logan. “Or a wedding band,” I say as he grins.

  Two weeks passed with nothing more than a hello between us. But then, Logan’s father had a riding accident, and he went to the hospital. Logan called me, and we made love again. In his father’s barn amongst the haystacks that hadn’t been taken out to the fields because everyone was all distracted. Logan cried afterward. And we slept there all night.

  Then his father got better. Mindy Pfeiffer asked Logan to the Christmas Formal. Skyler Atkins asked me. Logan and I both said yes. We went with our dates, and I kissed Skyler afterwards, but I was thinking of Logan’s truck and wondering if Mindy was in it.

  “Did you ever stop wondering who was in my truck?”

  I stare at his hand on my leg. “I don’t have to wonder anymore. Everything is very, very certain now. Gigi will always be the girl in your truck.”

  His thumb stills on my skin. “Mace…do you…”

  “Let’s keep reading.”

  The words come out shakily despite my best effort to sound strong and neutral. And I return to my diary.

  Skyler and I have been dating off and on since. So have Mindy and Logan.

  But I’m still wearing the ruby ring. It reminds me of Logan and of our night together.

  And out of nowhere, just last month, Mama made me go on the pill. She said if she does nothing else right, she will not let her daughters end up barefoot and pregnant before they’re ready. “Not like me,” she added when I glared at her.

  So, off we went to the gynecologist, and I endured the humiliation of the doctor asking me if I was sexually active and me having to say yes. Mama was out in the waiting room, but it was still way too close. I felt like she could take a tube of lipstick and stick it up to the wall and hear my entire conversation.

  On the way home, Mama went on for about fifteen minutes about how sex is not as great as they make it out to be.

  Finally, I turned away from my window and faced her. “Mama, thank you for the pill and for the talk, but that ship has sailed. Last fall.”

  Mama’s mouth dropped open and she veered into a ditch.

  While we were waiting for AAA to come get our car out, we stood next to each other in the hot sun.

  “Was it that Jimmy from the Y?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  “Was it Skyler from the Christmas Formal?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  Then her eyes narrowed, and she took off her shades to look straight into my eyes. “Was it Logan?”

  I’m not a good liar. I blinked. I looked away. I shrugged. But in the end, I looked back at her and nodded. She hugged me then and asked me if we were safe. Of course, I told her honestly. Then, she asked me if I’d do it again. Of course, I said again. Her eyes narrowed even more then, and she looked away this time. But then, she looked back.

  “Good. Good that it was good, and good that it was Logan. He’s a good boy,” she finished.

  I slam the diary shut and practically throw it into my purse. This had been a terrible idea. Logan and I always did prefer to keep things just between the two of us. And trapped in here with him…it feels very comfortable.

  But that’s not the way things are anymore.

  “That’s the end.” I stand up too quickly for my shaking legs and have to grab onto a prison bar for balance.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Logan

  “Macey.” I stand up and face her.

  That entry revved me up. Physically and emotionally. I work to tamp down my intensity as Macey shifts so I can see her face. Her eyes are bright and alive like always, but her expression is…different.

  “You know, I think this is the first time ever I have no damn clue what you’re thinking,” I say softly.

  “You always say you know me better than you know yourself,” she teases me. “And that you don’t always like that fact, but it’s true.”

  “Well, right now, I’m kind of flying blind.”

  “Bullcrap,” she says. “Try harder, Wild.”

  I smirk as I lean back against the cell. “Being surrounded by bars is kind of perfect for us. We always did like to shut out the world, didn’t we?”

  She points at me. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. See? You still know me.”

  An ache fills my throat. “I guess I do.”

  She shoots me a second glance, and then hesitates before she steps closer to me like she’s made a decision. “And I still know you like the back of my hand.”

  I blink in surprise. “What am I thinking right now?”

  “You’re scared,” she says, cutting right to the heart of the matter. “About getting married.”

  “How come I’m scared?” I feel like I’m daring her to call out the truth, but I can’t stop.

  “For the same reason you were always so good at reading me. You never wanted to look at yourself as closely as you look at me. It scares the fuck out of you. So does the idea of being in a real relationship where you’ll be more vulnerable than you’ve ever had to be in your life.”

  My face heats, but she’s off-base as much as she’s on. I can’t tell her that, though.

  “Yes, I’ve always been afraid to be in a real relationship,” I say carefully. “Just like you have been.”

  “What am I scared of?” she asks in a tone that tells me she actually wants to know. She wants something from me right now. And I do my best to give it to her.

  “You’re scared to leave the dysfunctional Henwood nest.”

  Her whiskey eyes widen. “I am?”

  I put my hand on her cheek. “You’re afraid to stop running this bar and become an author because you th
ink it will make you different from your family, so different you’ll no longer fit in with them. So different maybe you’d actually want to get married. And so different you won’t need a ghost to keep your heart beating.”

  Her breath is hot and smells like chocolate. I resist the incredible urge I have to grab her and kiss her on the mouth.

  “You know what’s really scary?” she says quietly. “How you can hit the mark so effortlessly.”

  I brush a stray hair behind her ear.

  “I heard Gigi’s saving herself for marriage.” Macey stares at me. “Is that true?”

  I swallow. “Yes.”

  “So you haven’t had sex since…” Long pause. “Vegas?”

  “Yes.”

  She gently bangs the heel of her hand against her forehead. “None of my freaking business. Gosh. I need to learn to stay the fuck out of everyone else’s relationship, don’t I? It’s just I’m so fucking single. Sometimes I get…”

  Long pause.

  And I can’t help but bite.

  “You get what?”

  “I get…” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Lonely sometimes.”

  My heart cracks in half.

  She’s never told me that.

  In all these years, Macey Henwood has never showed me her hand around how she feels about her choice to be alone.

  I stare at her like I’m seeing her for the first time. “You’ve always said you hate marriage and everything about it, but now you’re saying…that you’re tired of having a quota for intimacy?”

  “Once a year with no bed, no dates, nothing but a truck or a barn, and I’m out of there as fast as possible.” She sighs. “Sometimes it’s exhausting.”

  And I forget everything but right here, right now. Macey is all I see. She’s all I know.

  I don’t know who moves first—if it’s me or if it’s her. But somehow, we end up so close together I can hear her breath coming in short gasps.

  I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her against me. I suck in a breath as her lips come so close to mine I could trace them with my tongue. Her hands are hot, and their heat seeps through the back of my shirt. Her breasts press up against my chest, and as my jeans make contact with her belly, she no doubt feels the proof that her diary entry broke through the wall I’ve had to put between us all summer. I’m so turned on I have no rational thought in my head.