Chapter Four
Logan stood outside Sparks Barbeque and cursed himself for being the world’s biggest jackass. It had been a week since Lacy had shown up at his shop and seduced the fuck out of him.
And for seven days, he’d done nothing but think about how he wanted her to do it again. After her mind-blowing blowjob, he had helped her dress and cuddled her on his lap as they sat in his desk chair for nearly an hour. He cuddled her, for God’s sake.
Then, he told her to take a week to decide if she wanted another round. Damn woman had said yes before he had finished speaking, but he’d rejected the response and insisted she really think about it.
Now, it wasn’t her at his doorstep, but him at hers. He tried to reassure himself he wasn’t here because of the sex—yeah, right—but because of business. He had to get her chaise lounge out of his shop. It was driving him insane. He’d been a fool to make that her safe word. Every time he looked at the thing, he recalled Lacy bent over his desk as he spanked her.
It was way past time to get Lacy Sparks out of his head. He hoped that by engaging her here—amongst her family—he’d remember why it was a very bad idea for him to become involved with his best friend’s sister.
Lacy homed in on him the second he crossed the threshold, her too-pleased grin doing funny things to his insides. It occurred to him she had always lit up like that whenever he walked into a room, even when she was just a kid. And it had always made him feel good. Made him want to be a good man, a positive role model, the kind of person who was worthy of her admiration.
Now it just made him want to push her into the nearest broom closet and have his wicked way with her.
“Hey,” she said as she approached him.
“Hi, Lace.” His fingers itched to pull her close to him, to hug her tightly. That impulse seemed odd. He would have expected to feel desire—and he did—but the urge to simply embrace her and soak up the smell of her perfume was even stronger.
“Did you come for dinner? I’m off the clock in about ten minutes. I worked the breakfast and lunch shifts today. I could join you.”
He shook his head. “No. I’m not here for food.” He pointed to where his truck was parked out front. “I’ve got your chaise. Thought I’d see if you could take a few minutes to pop over to your place and unload it. Looks like I picked a good time.”
She leaned closer and murmured, “It’s been a week.”
Logan sighed. “I know.”
“Hey, Logan,” Tyson called out from his seat at the end of the bar. “Come have a beer with me.”
Logan nodded. “Go finish your shift. I’ll wait for you.”
He crossed the crowded room, stopping to say hello to a few people. One of the best—and worst—things about living in the same small town your whole life was that everybody knew everybody else. And not just in a “passing acquaintance” way, but in a “remember you when you were knee-high to a grasshopper” way.
As such, Mrs. Higgins had no compunction about asking him for the millionth time how he could have let that lovely girlfriend of his go. He politely told her the breakup had been Jane’s decision, not his.
TJ didn’t mind slapping him on the back and joking he’d been smart to avoid putting on the ball and chain. Then he’d not-too-subtly reminded him that his daughter Macie was still single.
Logan simply raised one eyebrow. “I think Macie is too much woman for me.”
TJ laughed loudly, the sound booming across the room. “Yeah. She probably is. What about my baby girl, Adele, then?”
TJ was always trying to play matchmaker for his daughters. Something that drove Macie and Adele nuts, since all those efforts were made right in front of them.
“Ignore him, Logan. We suspect dementia is setting in,” Macie called out from behind the bar. “And dear God, Dad. Why are you still here? You’re not even on the schedule to work today.”
“It’s happy hour,” TJ called out, lifting his beer and clinking glasses with the two old cronies at his table.
Sparks Barbeque was actually TJ’s restaurant, but he left the cooking, waitressing, management, basically everything to the girls. And between the seven of them, they had put the restaurant—and by extension, Maris, Texas—on the map. The place had been featured in several national magazines as one of the best barbeque joints in the country, and just last month, Paige had received a call from the Food Network about filming a show there. For several days, the local gossips had been all abuzz about the possibility of their little town appearing on TV.
Finally, Logan made it to the bar, claiming the stool next to Tyson. “Busy in here tonight.”
Tyson shrugged. “It’s Friday in Maris.” He let the comment stand as if that explained it all, which it did. With the exception of Cruisers, which was on the outskirts of town and catered more to the party crowd, Sparks Barbeque was the only other option for social drinking. It was quieter, and it attracted the older men who liked to toss back a few with TJ, and the established couples out on dates, looking for a place where they didn’t have to yell to be heard over the loud music.
“Budweiser?” Macie asked him, even though she was already pouring the draft.
Logan nodded his thanks as Macie went back to the other end of the bar, continuing the story she’d been telling Coop without missing a beat.
“You know,” Tyson said, “I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should get the band back together.”
Logan laughed as he shook his head. He, Tyson, and their friends Harley and Caleb had formed Ty’s Collective back in high school. When Caleb and Tyson went off to college, they’d do local gigs whenever the guys were home over holidays and then they had resurrected it fulltime after Tyson graduated from med school and returned to Maris. “Hell no.”
“Why not?”
Logan lifted his hand as he ticked off his reasons. “For one thing, Cal’s too busy running his father’s Feed and Seed while he recovers from his heart attack, and Harley moved away. Band wouldn’t sound the same without her killing it on the banjo.”
Harley Mills had been an integral part of their group of friends for the past thirty or so years, but that changed when she took off to Florida a year ago after her brother’s death. They all felt her absence. With her departure, the band had dissolved. Logan missed the music and the camaraderie, but he also knew Ty’s Collective only worked with Harley on the stage with them.
“I can be the lead singer,” Macie interjected.
“Jesus, Mace. How do you do that?” Tyson asked. “You’re in the middle of a conversation with Coop, yet you’re listening in on ours.”
Macie shrugged. “It’s not that hard. Besides, I don’t like to miss stuff. Like Mrs. Higgins over there bitching about the new sign outside the Baptist church. Let it go, Agnes.”
“I’m not bitching,” Agnes called out. “I just said it was hard to read.”
Macie ignored the woman’s outburst and pointed to TJ. “And Dad’s over there making a bet on next week’s Rangers game with Earl, even though he promised my mom he wouldn’t gamble anymore.”
TJ frowned, hotly denying what everyone in the place knew was true. “I am not. And don’t be feeding your mother those stories either.”
Macie rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Logan and Tyson. “So I can be lead singer.”
Tyson shook his head vehemently. “No way. Never. Not in a million years. I’ve heard you sing, Mace. It’s bad. Really bad.”
Macie was infamous for her extraordinarily awful singing voice, a fact she drove home when she took it upon herself to sing “The National Anthem” at the annual Fourth of July picnic by the lake a few years earlier. Patriotism hit a new low as everyone in attendance burst out in hoots and hollers, laughing until their sides hurt at the painful performance. Which, of course, only encouraged an unoffended Macie to sign louder and to draw out the high notes longer.
“You’re tone deaf,” Logan added.
“I’ve been practicing in the shower. I really think I’m getting it. Tell them, Coop. You were here last week when I sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to Paige. Nailed it, didn’t I?”
Coop looked at her, frowning. “You were singing? I thought you’d burned yourself on one of the candles.”
Macie chucked a peanut at Coop’s head, which he deftly dodged. “To hell with all of you.” Then she launched right back into whatever story she’d been telling Coop before interrupting them. She was impossible to keep up with, but funny as hell.
Logan had avoided the restaurant for two weeks, trying to hide from Lacy. Now, he realized he’d missed it.
“Maybe we can find another banjo player, and I can do most of the lead vocals,” Tyson offered. “We all took turns at the mic anyway.”
“Tyson, I know you’ll probably find this hard to believe, but we weren’t that good.” It was a boldfaced lie. They were awesome. More than once, it had been suggested that they all quit their day jobs and pursue the music career fulltime. None of them had been tempted. It was a passion that they all shared—on a hobby level.
Tyson chuckled. “Bullshit.”
“Why the big need to start it all up again? Aren’t you pretty busy these days?”
Dr. Tyson Sparks was the one who’d suggested they take a hiatus after Harley left. He was one of only two general practitioners who lived in Maris, while the nearest hospital resided nearly forty minutes away in the neighboring town of Douglas. As such, he was in constant demand, treating everything from cut fingers to the more serious medical concerns.
“I thought you might like the distraction,” Tyson explained.
“Distraction?” The only thing Logan needed to be distracted from was Lacy, but God help him if Tyson knew that. He was as overprotective of his cousins and sister, Paige, as Evan was.
“It was just a thought.”
It occurred to Logan that perhaps it was Tyson who needed the distraction. Logan had been walking around with his head up his ass for so many months, he’d failed to see Tyson was facing his own struggles as well.
“You miss Harley?”
“Is that really a question?”
“I’m sorry, man. Didn’t realize how rough it was on you. I miss her too.” He really did. Though her departure had been easier for him. He’d always hung out more with Evan than Caleb, Harley, and Tyson—who had been inseparable for most of their lives.
“It’s alright. Let’s face it. You took a double hit. I mean, Jane took off just a few weeks after Harley.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
Tyson placed a friendly, comforting hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Believe me, there are plenty of other women out there who would be lucky to have you. Jane didn’t deserve you.”
“Uh. Am I interrupting?”
Logan glanced over his shoulder to find Lacy standing next to him with her purse over her arm.
Great. From the look on her face, it was clear she’d heard Tyson’s comments and now she thought he’d been sitting here crying in his beer over Jane.
“No. You’re not,” Logan said, standing. He needed to get her out of here. Set things straight. “You ready?”
“You two going somewhere?” Tyson asked curiously.
“He fixed my chaise. We’re taking it back to my place,” Lacy replied. The happiness she’d shown when he had first arrived at the restaurant was gone, replaced by uncertainty.
“Need any help?” Tyson started to stand.
“No,” Logan said quickly. “It’s light. We can manage.”
He placed his hand at the base of Lacy’s spine and guided her to the door before Tyson could insist.
He continued to propel her toward his truck even though she appeared to be dragging her feet. When he opened the door, she paused. “If you’d rather do this another time…”
Logan shook his head. “Get in the truck.” He didn’t make it a request and he didn’t bother to make it sound nice. He’d spent a week waiting for the moment when he’d get her alone again, and he wasn’t wasting the opportunity on misunderstandings.
As always, Lacy responded to his commanding tone, which didn’t help his already painful erection. He’d stopped trying to beat the fucking thing down the second they got out of the restaurant. Now he was wondering how the hell he could walk around to the driver’s side without limping. God help him if anyone in the restaurant was looking his way. It was bound to be obvious what was troubling him.
Logan climbed behind the steering wheel, adjusting his dick before he did himself an injury. Lacy’s eyes twinkled briefly and she opened her mouth—no doubt to give him shit for his condition—before she sobered up again and remained quiet. He hated seeing her upset.
“Don’t.”
She tilted her head, confused. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t think what you’re thinking. I’m not still hung up on Jane.”
“No one would blame you if—”
“I don’t miss her.”
Lacy didn’t appear to believe him. “Logan—”
“I don’t miss her, Lacy,” he said more resolutely. “The breakup was long overdue and I think I’d mourned the end of that relationship before it was even over. She and I were wrong for each other. It’s over. I swear.”
“Really?”
He could read the doubt in her tone and he didn’t blame her. Three years was a long time to live with someone. And he hadn’t helped himself by holing up inside his shop for a year after it ended, not bothering to date anyone else.
“She has nothing to do with us.”
Her smile grew. “There’s an us?”
He closed his eyes, wishing she didn’t befuddle him so. She had him talking in circles, saying everything wrong. “For now.”
His response didn’t dim her enthusiasm. “Now works for me.”
His lids opened at the sound of her shifting on the seat. She was wearing a short skirt that she lifted just enough to show him that she wasn’t wearing panties.
Logan had never considered himself the jealous type, but knowing she’d been flitting around that restaurant all day like that had his vision going red. “You worked like that all day?”
She laughed. “Good God, no. My Uncle TJ was in there. How awkward would that be? I took them off and stashed them in my purse just before I came to meet you at the bar.”
She was too adorable for his own good. “I like the idea of you dropping your panties whenever I show up.”
“Logan?”
“Yeah.”
“Can we go now?”
He made no move to start the truck. “In a hurry?”
The dirty girl reached between her thighs and ran her finger along her slit. Logan watched, spellbound, as she raised one very shiny finger to him. “Yes.”
He started the truck, using the five minutes it took for them to get from the restaurant to her front door to control himself. Foolishly, he’d agreed to the no-penetration rule, as if that somehow kept him true to his promise to Evan. He hadn’t just broken the damn vow to his friend; he’d shattered it and was currently dancing barefoot on the shards.
When they arrived at her place, he took a steadying breath and forced himself to calm down. He’d sworn to himself when he loaded up the chaise and left his shop, he wouldn’t touch her tonight. He’d slowly extricate himself from whatever this was.
Lacy was halfway to her front door before he could find the voice to call out, “Forgetting something?”
She looked over her shoulder, finding him standing at the end of his truck bed. “Oh. Yeah. The chaise.”
From her heavy-lidded eyes, Lacy had expected him to drag her upstairs and let the games begin again. He was sorely tempted.
Logan lowered the back of the truck and slid the chaise out. It wasn’t that heavy. Lacy helped him guide it down then held on to the light end, leading him to her door and up the stairs to her apartment.
He’d been in her place once before three years earlier, when he, Tyson and Evan had helped her move in. He had spent the day lugging furniture, placing it here, there, and then back to here as she directed their movements and changed her mind every five seconds. Logan hadn’t been back since.
Once she opened the door to her apartment, he followed her in and whistled. Damn. The place had been nothing more than white walls and a few hand-me-down pieces of furniture last time.
“You like it?” she asked, setting the chaise down just inside the door. He followed suit, letting his gaze travel around the space. Logan knew she had an eye for decorating and a knack for taking someone else’s trash and uncovering hidden treasures. But seeing all her efforts put together like this…
“It’s beautiful, Lace. So homey.”
Her apartment looked like the kind of place where a man could come home, kick off his work boots and sink into the comfy couch with a beer. He could spend hours just looking around at all the cool pieces she’d found. While he knew most of the decorations in the place were flea market and yard sale castoffs, everything worked together. More than that, it looked damned elegant.
Lacy was clearly pleased by his praise. “Thanks. You know, if you ever want to redesign your showroom, I’d be happy to help.”
“Is that your subtle way of telling me the place looks like hell?”
“Well…”
He chuckled. “I’d love your help. Keep intending to work on it, but I never manage to shift around more than a couple pieces before I get overwhelmed and give up.”
“I was thinking that if you added some funky artwork to the walls and maybe set it up like a house layout, it would show off your furniture better. Plus, I could add a few vases, knick-knacks, stuff like that, to add some color and some visual interest. I think it would make the whole place pop.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’d really like that.”
“Awesome. I’ll come by next week on my day off and we can draw up a layout. And then I’ll start hitting the sales looking for the pieces I’m envisioning. It won’t cost much. Promise.”
“Money’s not an issue. I suspect the investment will be worth it in the long run.”
“And you’d be helping me out too.”
“How’s that?”
She grinned as she waved around the room. “I’m sort of at maximum capacity for crap in here. This way I can still fuel my bargain-shopping addiction without crowding up my apartment.”
“I see. Speaking of, where’s this going?” he asked, pointing at the chaise. There didn’t seem to be a spot for it in the living room.
“My bedroom.”
Of course.
Logan blew out a long sigh. “Listen, Lace. I think—”
She stepped closer and placed her finger over his mouth. “You promised me three times.” She smelled like flowers and French fries; the combination was ridiculously appealing.
“We need to be practical about this.”
“Okay. So be practical. You said Jane wasn’t an issue. Is that true?”
He nodded though he wasn’t sure that answer was entirely accurate. While he wasn’t still hung up on his ex, he was struggling with the fallout, trying to find a way back to normal.
“And what do you think Evan would say if he found out?”
Logan knew the answer to that. “He wouldn’t say anything. He’d beat the shit out of me very quietly.”
“You’re best friends, Logan. He loves you like a brother. What makes you think he’d disapprove of us as a couple? Is it the age difference?”
He shook his head. “No. It has nothing to do with your age. We’re both consenting adults.”
“Then it’s the sex. I mean…the way we like to have sex.”
Logan didn’t reply for a long time. He had been terrified of scaring Lacy away with his sexual appetite, but rather than run, she’d responded to it. With Jane, he’d worn the kid gloves at the beginning, introducing her to his desires slowly. That technique had blown up in his face. By the time he figured out they weren’t compatible lovers, he was in love with her, so he adapted, tried to hold back some of his stronger urges.
When the silence stretched too long, Lacy filled it. “You didn’t seem to have these hang-ups when it came to Yvette. What makes me different from her?”
He reared back. “Yvette?”
Lacy flushed. “I followed you one day. Watched you take her when her grandmother was out of the house.”
“That was nearly ten years ago.”
She shrugged. “I know.”
“You were just a kid.”
She scowled at his comment. The woman was touchy about him referring to her youth, but he’d spent too many years of his life seeing her as a kid. While that certainly wasn’t true now, the fact remained that she had no business spying on him at that age.
“I was seventeen and not entirely innocent.” Then she seemed to recall what she’d seen. “Of course, after that, I wasn’t innocent at all.” She laughed, but Logan didn’t find the humor.
“Jesus. You were too young to see that.”
“Maybe I was, but I’m not going to pretend it didn’t turn me on. A lot. Like a lot a lot.”
Logan ran a hand through his hair and forced himself to recall all the things he had done with Yvette. He had no idea which day she’d followed them, but any of them would have provided her with a fairly substantial education in kinky sex.
The knowledge certainly explained her interest in pursuing him, in her research on BDSM. He’d unwittingly exposed her to his true nature and the spark had ignited. Years ago.
He had no business being here.
“Let’s put this chaise in your bedroom. Then I need to head home.”
“What? Why? Are you pissed off I followed you and Yvette? Because—”
“No, Lace. I’m not pissed. I’m just coming to my senses.”
She fell silent for several moments. He let her sort through her thoughts, taking the time to get his own settled.
“I’m getting tired of chasing you, Logan. Sick of trying to force you to see something that’s standing right in front of you. You want to be blind? Fine. Be blind. I’m not in the mood to beg.”
She bent over and picked up her half of the chaise. He lifted his side and followed her to the bedroom, her words racing through his brain. Why couldn’t she see that he was trying to do the right thing?
They were halfway across the room when something on the bed captured his attention.
He put the chaise down and walked over to the mattress. “What the hell?”
Lacy followed him, picking up a thick butt plug and waving it around as if it was nothing more scandalous than a hairbrush. “I did some online shopping after the last time we were together. I was sort of hoping you’d educate me on all of this.”
“That was one hell of a shopping trip.”
In addition to the plug, there was a vibrator, a large dildo, nipple clamps, a crop and a jumbo-size tube of lubrication.
He’d met the woman of his dreams. And he’d known her his entire life.
Lacy sank down on her bed, letting her skirt ride up high on her thighs. “Guess I’ll have to find someone else to introduce me to—”
“Lacy,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Yeah?”
“Get undressed. Now.”