Chapter Four
The entire time Logan was getting ready, driving to the house, and even while standing in his father’s home office, all he could think about was Becky. That kiss…Jesus, he’d completely lost his head. It was Becky—young, beautiful, so alive and real that she tugged hard at the jaded ugliness swimming around in him. So sweet and trusting, he’d wanted nothing more than to give her pleasure and feel like a man. A whole decent man who was worthy of touching her.
Not a walking time bomb that had to fight to keep his demons leashed.
Touching Becky, kissing her, and feeling her body against his eased that constant low-grade anxiety brewing in him. Until he’d seen that shattered look on her face. Then she’d all but run from him.
“Are you listening?”
Logan turned from the window to face his father sitting behind the massive mahogany desk in his study. The years of hard work, hard drinking, and just being a hard-ass were taking a toll on Brian Knight. At forty-nine, he had craggy lines digging into his harsh face and more gray than black hair. “Are you saying something new?” Okay, maybe the hard-ass trait was genetic.
Brian rose and dropped his knuckles down on the desktop. “You’ve got some woman holed up in the house you’re currently using.”
Ah, the spies on the ranch were working overtime. “It’s my house.” The one he’d built on the land he would get the title to one way or another.
“If you grow up and assume your responsibilities. You’re almost thirty and still acting like…her.”
“No surprise there. She is my mother.” Nothing like twisting that knife in the old man. Brian didn’t like the reminder that he’d fallen in love with the wrong sort of girl, resulting in Logan. For the first eight years of his life, Logan hadn’t even known what his father looked like. Hadn’t really cared. Until the day his mother was arrested.
He clamped down on the anger threatening to erupt.
“Get that woman off my land. And it’s still my land until you fulfill the contract. You won’t find a decent woman to marry while keeping a bimbo in your house.”
Logan crossed to the desk and slapped his hands down. Face to face, he kept his voice low and calm. “Her name is Becky. She works for Luce and is renting a room from me.” Doing chores was the same as paying rent. “I have zero tolerance for your judgmental bullshit.” He’d learned a long time ago not to back down from his father.
“And I have zero tolerance for your ungrateful rebellion. You are my son.”
Not hers were the unspoken words hanging between them. No matter how much he tried, Brian couldn’t break Indigo’s influence on Logan. After all, he’d spent his early years traveling with her across the United States as she sang in club after club. Then his father had ruined it all, got custody of Logan, and dragged him to this house where Logan was stifled and claustrophobic.
But Logan had found his place on the land down by the pond. That piece of wild beauty and tranquil fishing became Logan’s solace. When he was a kid, thrown into a family where he never really belonged, that land had been his one comfort. The one thing he knew was his—his mother had made sure of it. And later, when the nightmares and flashbacks about forcing himself into that tiny mud house and finding a bloodbath of dead children threatened to consume him, Logan discovered the land and his house calmed and centered him. Building the Camp Warrior Recovery gave him a purpose to keep living.
“I want that woman gone.”
Logan stared at his father across the desk from him. “Do you? Sign over my land and she’ll be gone tonight.” His father wouldn’t do it, but if he did, Logan would put Becky in a safe place.
Problem was, he liked her in his house. He caught his almost-frown. Now wasn’t the time to think about Becky.
“You signed the contract. You will marry and live on the land, or it reverts back to me on your birthday.” Shoving back from the desk, he crossed his arm. “I did my best to toughen you up after she tried to turn you into a damned long-haired hippie.”
Logan narrowed his eyes. “Must have worked. I was a Marine for a decade.”
“You followed orders. Any grunt can do that. The Knight men give orders. So here’s how it’s going to be. First, you marry a decent woman and start producing heirs. You’ll quit that job and I’ll teach you how to run the ranch.” Brian strode to the sideboard and poured out a glass of scotch. “The real working horse ranch, not some hippie commune bullshit for dropouts who can’t handle life. Men do their duty without complaint, whether it’s to their country or their family business. They don’t run around looking for pity and handouts because life takes a piss on them. They handle it.”
And Logan wasn’t handling it in his father’s opinion. Getting help for PTSD made him less than a man. “We’re done here.” He pivoted with military precision, back ramrod straight and breathing to keep his fury contained.
“Running away like her?”
The taunt spun him.
Brian lifted his chin, sensing victory. “All you have to do is marry to get that land you love so much. Can’t even do that much?”
Oh he could. And would, if he could get Becky to agree. “I’ll marry and get my land.”
…
Just after midnight, and struggling with despair and exhaustion, Becky left her sleeping baby in the bedroom and took the dreaded envelope with her out to the kitchen. Earlier tonight at work, she’d been served the subpoena ordering her to present Sophie for a DNA testing to establish whether or not Dylan was her biological father. He was really going to try to take Sophie away from her.
Too many worries clashed in her head, but one thing was abundantly clear—she had to get the retainer for the lawyer. Holding up her right hand, she eyed her mom’s wedding rings. They were all she had left, but she had to sell them.
Images flashed in her head. Her parents laughing in the kitchen. Her father reading to her. Tyler teaching her how to make a paper airplane. Her memories jumped to that last fatal day, her mom screaming, the police holding her back as the firemen fought the flames…
Stop it. Reliving the past wouldn’t help her keep Sophie out of Dylan’s hands. She needed a plan; sell the rings, and see if that would at least get the lawyer started until the trailer sold.
Right now, she needed to eat something. Opening the freezer, the blast of cool air felt good. She eyed the chocolate chip ice cream still sealed with the plastic ring. That might ease the burn in her stomach.
Becky picked up the carton, shut the door, and almost screamed. “Logan!”
“Midnight snack?”
Her mouth dried while her pulse beat in her ears. Dressed in nothing but black pajama bottoms and bronzed skin, he instantly dominated the large kitchen. His rumpled black hair and dark-shadowed jaw screamed sexy danger. “What?”
He uncoiled, taking the carton from her hand and held it up. “Hungry?” His eyebrows lowered, and concern etched around his mouth. “Did you eat dinner before you went to work?”
All her earlier shame and humiliation at practically climbing up him when he’d kissed her flooded back. “No time. I was just…I’m not that hungry after all. I’ll get out of your way.” She couldn’t face him yet and spun to go around the other side of the island.
“Becky, wait. Please sit with me and have some ice cream. I won’t touch you, I just want to talk.”
His voice, God, it was like silky warm melted chocolate sliding over her skin. She couldn’t hide from him in his own house. Time to suck it up. “Okay.”
They worked together to serve the ice cream, then settled at the bar. Becky dug in, letting the cold, sweet dessert wash away the taste of fear and worry. She and Logan had eaten several meals together, and the familiarity of it soothed her. She glanced over at him. “Did I wake you?’
“I was awake. Thinking about you.”
“Me?” Sitting here with him now in the soft light that held back the night, the room felt small and intimate. “Good or bad thoughts?”
“Both. That kiss was all good, until I pushed you too far, too fast, and you ran as if you had to escape me.” He set his spoon down. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to run from me.”
“I wasn’t running from you.” She studied her bowl, fishing out the bite with the most chocolate chips. He made it so easy to talk to him. “I was ashamed of myself.”
Logan swiveled, his attention fully on her. “Why?”
She took a breath. “It’s never been like that before. Another minute or two and I would have lost it and had a—” Crap, she needed to engage the filter between her thoughts and mouth.
He leaned on his forearm. “The word is orgasm. And it’s just you and me sitting here, no one judging us. You can talk to me.”
The truth spilled out of her. “I’ve confused sex and love in the past. It’s kind of a pattern for me.” For years she’d dreamed of that perfect family and home. She didn’t need her college psychology classes to tell her she was subconsciously trying to replace what she’d lost as a little girl. With the way Logan made her feel so much so fast…yeah…too easy to confuse an experienced lover with a man truly caring.
Logan took a breath. “I like you, but I’m not going to fall in love with you.”
“No!” Oh my God. “I know that. I didn’t think you cared, I was just embarrassed and mad that I lost control, thinking with my hormones and not my brain.” She bit off her words. Not so easy to talk now. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Not until you look at me.”
Becky forced her eyes up.
His gaze captured hers and he leaned forward. Not touching her, but so close it felt like there was only the two of them in the world right now. “You’re a beautiful woman with normal, healthy desires. You allowing me to give you pleasure? If we’re both okay with it, then there’s not a damn thing wrong with that.”
It wasn’t just his voice hypnotizing her, it was the way he surrounded her without touching her. His thighs were spread on either side of her knees, his face close enough to see his pupils were slightly dilated, and she could smell the clean scent of his soap and that richer male scent. It all wrapped around her, relaxing her reservations. “It sounds so simple.”
“It is. There’s enough complicated shit in the world. And all kinds of bad shit. Don’t let anyone take sex away from you. Sometimes, that’s all we have left.”
Becky had never heard anything as sad as that. She could see a barren desolation in his eyes. Unable to resist, she covered his hands with hers. “You’ve seen bad stuff.” And suffered for it. If he was building a camp to help PTSD vets, then it was a safe guess that he dealt with it himself.
He went rigid. “Ten years in the Marines. I’ve seen and done things that I don’t want you or any civilian I know to see.” He looked away, his eyes losing focus. “Friends of mine died to make damn sure you never will.”
Without thinking, she touched his tattoo. Its simplicity was heartbreaking—a majestic horse going to a knee before the cross with the dog tags. “This is for them? Your friends who died?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t force a horse like that to his knee.” She stroked over the ink, as if she could soothe that horse, and Logan’s wounded soul. “He gives that honor freely to one who died for his country. I can’t think of a more fitting tribute from you.” She forced herself to stop touching those haunting markings. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “I chose to go in the Marines, and I’d do it again knowing full well what I’d face. I’d just do some things better if I had the chance.”
His bravery and commitment touched her so deeply, her arms ached to hold him. Instead, she squeezed his hands.
Logan honed in on her fingers. He eased a thumb over the rings she wore on her right hand. “Wedding rings?” His eyes lifted to hers.
“My mother’s. I need to sell them.” Even the words felt like a betrayal.
“Luce said your mother just passed?”
“A little over a month ago. I don’t want to sell them.” She bit her lip against a fresh wave of grief.
“Then why are you?”
She leaned past him and picked up the envelope. “I was served this tonight. It’s a court order compelling a DNA test to establish that Dylan is Sophie’s father.”
“He’s going after custody.”
“I can’t let him win. My loan hasn’t come through yet, and I need to come up with a retainer for my lawyer. I should get enough from the rings.” She swallowed a lump. Crying wouldn’t help; she had to be strong.
He eased back from her. “Your ex is Dylan Ridgemont, his family owns Ridgemont Communications. They are wealthy and powerful.”
The change in him threw her off balance. “Yes.” Wait… “Did I tell you his last name?”
“No. I reviewed the background check Once a Marine Security Agency did on you when Luce hired you.”
Uneasiness stiffened her spine. “Lucinda gave you that? I thought it was confidential.”
“I work for Once a Marine. I also own part of Luce’s business, so I have the right to see it.”
What was going on here? The earlier warmth in him had cooled. “Is there a problem?”
He relaxed marginally. “You’re smart enough to know there’s a big problem with you going up against the Ridgemonts.”
She took a breath. “I have to fight. Dylan didn’t want Sophie, he told me to get rid of her.” She closed her eyes as those awful moments in the truck screamed in her head. But this wasn’t about her anymore. “I’m going to fight. She’s my daughter and I’m not giving her up. She doesn’t deserve to pay for my mistake of saddling her with Dylan as a father.”
“Did you get the restraining order?”
Becky twisted the rings. “No. I filled out the paperwork, but I worried I’d just provoke him if I had him served with a restraining order.”
Logan regarded her for a few seconds. “I pulled your background to find out more about you before I decided to approach you with a deal.”
It took her a second to absorb the meaning of his words. “A deal for what?”
“A way for us to help each other out, and you won’t have to sell your mom’s rings.”
“How?” She had no idea what Logan was worth, but she couldn’t have anything he wanted.
“I need a temporary wife. Marry me for a few months, and I’ll help you keep custody of your daughter.”
…
Becky couldn’t have heard him right. No way. “Marry you?”
“Yes. I need a wife until my thirtieth birthday in a little under three months.”
“I…why?”
Logan leaned back against the island, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “I signed a contract with my father. If I’m not married by my thirtieth birthday, I lose my land.”
Becky glanced around the kitchen, dining room, and living area. “This land you’re building your camp on?”
“Yes.”
Conflicting emotions rolled through her. “You’re not exactly sharing information here. Yet you looked at my background.”
He propped a foot on the rung of the stool. “How about we start with this. I’m not in the Ridgemonts’ category, but I’m rich enough on my own—without my family’s money—to pay your lawyers, as well as yours and Sophie’s expenses. You can quit work to focus on being a mom and fighting for your girl.”
“Marine pay must be awesome.”
His mouth curved. “Not even close, sugar, but being a Knight opened doors for me, and I invested the money I didn’t spend on the land very well. Add to that the power of the Knight name, and marrying me will make it harder for a judge to take Sophie from you. We will look and act like a stable family.”
“Look and act?”
“Not only for Sophie, but for my family as well. This isn’t a joke to me. I want my land, and I won’t let my father win.”
A chill dripped down her spine. For the first time, she saw the absolute hard-ass in him. The man who could kill, and no doubt had. “Do you hate your father?”
“It’s complicated.”
She lifted a brow. “Speak slowly and use small words. If I concentrate real hard, I might be able to understand.”
“Funny. And a smart mouth.”
“You’re being secretive and evasive.”
“Military trained.”
“Pageant trained. We can do this all night. But if you want me to consider this wild scheme of yours, I need to know a little about you.”
Logan cracked a grin. “Tough girl in a pretty package, huh?”
“Same goes for you.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “Now you’re just being mean. I’m not pretty.”
“Suck it up and start talking.”
He took a breath, expanding his shoulders and chest. “It’s like this. Until I was eight years old, all I knew about my father was his name and that he owned a ranch in Texas.”
“Did he know about you?”
“Yes. But I was a part of his life he desperately wanted to forget. So I spent those years on the road with my mother. Her name is Indigo White. My father met her when she was singing in a club. They fell in love and married. Very quickly, Mom figured out that she hated being married and trapped on a ranch. She took off when she was a few months pregnant and never looked back.”
His flat voice contrasted with the tension in his jaw and neck. Logan didn’t like telling this story. “So what changed when you were eight?”
“My stepmother, Pricilla, had some female issue that ended her ability to have more kids. I have two half sisters, but no other boys. My father needed me. But my mother wasn’t going to give me up willingly, so he had her arrested on possession charges.”
“Drugs?”
“The police found marijuana in the tour bus.”
“Was it your mother’s?”
“She denies it. I was eight, I don’t know. But my father went after custody and won. An eight-year-old living on a barely running tour bus, sleeping on couches in the back of clubs while Indigo performed did not impress the judge. She lost all rights except some supervised visitation.”
“You were right, it’s complicated. Why did your dad need a son?”
“To inherit the ranch. A Knight always inherits the ranch.”
“But you have two sisters. Aren’t they Knights?”
“Until they marry. Girls are notoriously unstable that way.”
“Wow. That’s incredibly archaic and chauvinistic.” And here she’d been a little jealous of Logan with his beautiful home on his family’s land. But still… “Can’t you talk to him? You’re his son. Maybe he didn’t have you those first years, but he must love you now.”
“I don’t know what the old man feels. But I know this…somewhere in that huge custody battle, my mother stopped fighting. She made a deal with my dad that he’d deed a certain amount of land to me on my eighteenth birthday so I would always have a home.”
Becky’s stomach dropped. “She gave you up?” After having him for eight years? How could she?
“She was going to lose. Indigo knew it and tried to wrangle something for me, not for herself.” Logan looked up at the ceiling. “I think that was her way of making sure I’d know she cared even when she was forced to give me away.” Logan turned, his gaze frozen. “That manipulative bastard followed the agreement, he deeded me the land but only if I signed the contract agreeing to his additional terms.”
“What does he want?”
“For me to marry, have sons, and take over the ranch. If I’m not married and living on the ranch by the time I’m thirty, the deed to the land reverts to him.” Logan swiveled his head, shadows sucked the light out of his gaze. “I’m not letting him win this. I’m going to beat him at his own game.”
“You don’t want to get married some day? Have a family?”
“I can’t. No kids.”
She laid her hand on the slab of granite that passed for his arm.
He shook his head, cutting off her words. “Not going there, Becky. Don’t ask. This marriage will be temporary, a business deal. I’ll have my lawyer draw up a contract. We’ll live here together until I secure my land. During that time, I’ll take care of all your expenses, including the lawyer to fight for Sophie. Anything your baby needs, I’ll provide.” His eyes shadowed. “But you care for her. I can’t.”
She didn’t point out that others might find that odd. If he married Becky, wouldn’t he care for her daughter, too? Wasn’t that what she’d need to convince a judge of to keep her baby?
“Once we both get what we want, we’ll divorce and I’ll give you a settlement that will be yours to do with as you please. Buy a house, open a business.”
Her thoughts churned at the possibilities. If this worked, she’d have her baby and could finish her nursing degree. Make a real future for her and Sophie. Flutters of hope bubbled in her stomach. An hour ago she’d been desperate, but now Logan was offering her a lifeline that sounded too good to be true. “What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch. We just have to make it look real. My father can’t be suspicious or he’ll dig until he finds the truth.”
She stared at her hands, thinking. Could she do this? Could Logan? Should they? “It seems like an underhanded thing to do. We’d be lying to your family and everyone.”
“Think of the payoff. As my wife, with us providing a stable life in a two-parent home for Sophie, and the power of my family name and money, you’ll get custody of Sophie. Isn’t she your priority?”
Her morals had a serious collusion with her priorities. “I’ll think about it.”
But if she wanted to keep her daughter, what choice did she have?