Chapter Seven
A wet nose woke her up. “Jiggy.” It was dark and cold, but she didn’t hear Sophie stirring or crying. Pushing up on her arm, she looked in the crib. Her baby was sound asleep with her mouth opened, little chest rising and falling in her thick sleeper. Glancing at the clock, it was close to two a.m. Sophie usually slept through the night now, at least until five or six.
She lifted the covers, hoping Jiggy was just cold rather than needing to go outside. “Come sleep with me.” He liked to curl up behind her knees.
He shoved his nose in her neck.
“Fine.” She didn’t want him getting desperate and peeing in Logan’s house. Getting out of bed, she grabbed the extra blanket, wrapped herself in it, and half stumbled out to the living room. Jiggy shot out the front door, while Becky leaned against the doorjamb. Her feet were freezing.
“Go inside, Becky.”
Becky yelped. “Logan?” Stepping out onto the porch, she couldn’t see anything. It was pitch black. The moon must be behind some clouds.
“Over here.”
She turned in the general direction of the chairs. “What are you doing out here?”
“Can’t sleep. Go back to bed. I’ll watch the dog.”
His voice didn’t sound right. Too empty.
Not your problem, go back to bed.
“Aren’t you cold?” She tried to see him and could barely make out his shape slumped in a chair.
“No.”
“Why don’t you watch TV? Or read?” Why sit here in the dark?
He sighed. “Can’t be inside.”
The utter emptiness in his voice worried her. Pulled her closer. She reached out and skimmed soft cotton. “Why?”
A hand clamped around her wrist. “Don’t.”
Her heart shot up to the throat. “Logan, what’s wrong?”
“You can’t help. You were right the first time you ran from me after I kissed you. Run now.” He ripped his hand away. “Go.”
Tremors that had nothing to do with the cold started from the center of her chest and radiated out until her teeth chattered. “Jiggy, come.” Turning she rushed through the door, then stopped.
It was too cold outside.
Becky doubled back out to the porch. “Don’t growl at me,” she said softly. “I’m just giving you this.” She slipped the blanket off her shoulders and draped it over him. Then she went inside, quietly closing the door.
Once back in her bedroom, she wondered what the hell happened. That was not the man she knew. He’d been cold, distant…
Told her to run.
Jiggy whimpered at her bedroom door. He wanted to go back to Logan. Instead, Becky picked up the dog and put him in bed with her. Logan didn’t want them.
Sometimes if felt as if no one wanted her.
…
“That wasn’t so bad, was it, baby girl? Just a little cheek swab.” Becky held her daughter close as she left the medical building, trying to quell her queasiness. The test to establish paternity had been simple and quick.
It was the repercussions that had her trembling. The results would be issued to the court, then her and Dylan’s lawyers would get a copy and they’d go from there.
Becky kissed the soft fuzz coming in on Sophie’s head. “I’m sorry, baby. You deserve a better father.” She would be a good mother though. She had to.
Her stomach bubbled uneasily. She had to ask Logan for the lawyer’s retainer. God, it made her sick to do it, but her lawyer had to have it. She’d stopped by the bank this morning to check on her loan—she’d been turned down. There were no other options.
Shifting Sophie, she unlocked the car and buckled Sophie into her car seat. Becky forced a smile for her baby then closed the door. Opening her side, she glanced at the truck driving down the aisle slowly.
Oh God. Her hand slid off the door latch. Dylan. He stopped, his big truck blocking her little car in the space. The window rolled down. Fear and memories tangled. The way he’d grabbed the phone from her when she’d called 911. Hitting her. That punch in her stomach. She forced herself to get control and calm down. “What are you doing here?” His mirrored sunglasses prevented her from seeing his eyes.
He leaned his arm on the door. “Word is you’ve moved out of your trailer. People saw you loading up some guy’s truck and you’re living with him. That’ll go over real good with the judge. You just don’t know how to be anything but trash, do you?”
His taunt hit home, igniting her fury. “I’m not living with him, we’re married.”
Dylan fisted his hand, the muscles in his forearm bunching. “Who’d marry you?”
She lifted her chin, so tired of feeling powerless. “Logan Knight.” That felt good, really good. Logan was a million times the man Dylan was, and Becky was proud to call him her husband. He treated Becky like she was valuable for more than sex.
Dylan yanked off his sunglasses, staring at her for long seconds.
Her pride withered under the weight of growing fear. Dang, maybe she shouldn’t have provoked him. She glanced at Sophie in the backseat. Okay, she could grab her baby and run back into the medical building. They’d be safe—
“Bullshit.” Dylan snapped. “You’re lying. If you were married to a Knight, you wouldn’t be driving that piece of shit.” He ran his gaze down to her where she was twisting her hands. “I don’t see a ring on your finger. No Knight would have you as more than a quickie or side piece.” He laughed as he replaced his sunglasses then drove off.
With adrenaline whipping through her, Becky hurried into her car and left. Gripping the steering wheel, she glanced at her bare ring finger—her fault, she hadn’t put her mother’s rings on this morning. She wouldn’t repeat that mistake. But right now, she kept watch on the rear view mirror as she drove the streets. She saw a lot of trucks, but none of them were Dylan’s black Silverado 2500 turbo diesel—an exact model of the one he’d hit that poor man in, except he’d changed the color.
A noise penetrated her thoughts. What was that thumping? The whole car was jerking. More adrenaline released and her heart raced. The car bumped with a sickeningly familiar rhythm.
Flat tire.
Her head started to pound as she pulled off to the side and turned on her emergency blinkers. Sophie began to fuss. “Hang on, sweetheart.” She got out of the car and circled it. The right rear tire was flat.
What if Dylan sabotaged her tire? There weren’t that many cars on this two-lane road. He could come by and grab Sophie. Okay, that would be stupid, wouldn’t it? But Dylan was used to getting his way. He was capable of anything.
The ache in her head intensified. Becky got in the car, fished out her phone, and called her best friend. It rang and rang. Glancing at her watch, she swore. It was just after two in the afternoon; Ava was in her dance class. Okay. Who else? Logan was her first thought. He had a way of calming her and making her feel safe, but she’d never asked for his cell number.
Sophie’s fusses deteriorated into crying. Desperate, she tried another number.
“Becky?” Lucinda answered. “Oh, I heard the news. Thanks for inviting me to the wedding.”
A car passed by, making her jump. Worry tightened her neck. “It wasn’t really a wedding. Just a quickie ceremony. But I called because—”
“You’re turning in your notice, right?”
Jerking her head around, she stared as a dark colored truck passed by. Relief sagged her shoulders. Not Dylan. “No, I mean I will have to, but I have a flat tire. Sophie’s crying, I can’t get a hold of Ava.”
“Why didn’t you call Logan?”
Another wail from her daughter made Becky wince. She reached back, rubbing her arm. “It’s okay, Sophie.” To Lucinda, she said, “Uh, I don’t have his number.” And yeah, didn’t she feel stupid about that. “I’m kind of scared. Dylan was at the medical clinic.” She quickly spilled out the encounter and described exactly where she was.
“Hold on, Becky.”
The phone muted.
Her poor baby was getting more and more upset. Should she take her out of the seat? Would that be safe?
“Okay, hang tight. Logan’s on his way.”
“Logan?” Hot tears of relief burned her eyes. He was coming; they’d be okay. Becky blinked back the moisture.
“Yes, I called him. Why the hell didn’t you have his cell number?”
“I don’t know, it hasn’t come up.”
“He didn’t know you were gone from the house. You two should communicate a little.”
Her baby’s screams nearly drowned out her boss’s words. “Hang on.” Putting the phone down, she got out of the car and rescued her daughter from the car seat. Once she retrieved the phone, she walked off the road, where it was safer. “I’m back.”
“I’m glad you and Logan married.”
Overwhelmed and unsure of what she was doing, she asked, “Did you plan this? I mean if Logan wanted a temporary wife, I’m sure he could find one easily, so why me?”
“I’d been thinking about it, and considering how to bring it up to you two when you called in a panic because Dylan was out of prison. Logan needed a wife. You needed help even before Dylan came back into the picture.”
A truck approached and she tensed until she caught sight of Logan’s dark hair in the driver’s seat. “Logan’s pulling up right now.”
“Okay. We’ll talk soon. And, Becky, I accept your resignation. I’ll send you your last check.”
“But what about next week? I don’t want to leave you in a bind.”
“I’ve got it covered. You just take care of that baby and my cousin.” She hung up.
Logan strode across the debris to her car.
Huge and oh-so-capable, her cowboy was the best thing Becky had ever seen. Hurrying over to him, she said, “Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure what to do, and when Lucinda said you were on your way, I was so relieved.”
He touched her face. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re going to take care of this, then we’ll get you and Sophie home safe.”
Home safe. Once she’d craved a home, but right now, his touch felt like home and safety in one package. He’d come for her and that meant more than she could adequately express. For the first time in a long time, Becky didn’t feel alone. Pulling herself together, she nodded and stepped back. “It’s the right rear tire.”
He peered down to the left side of the car. “Then you got a bigger problem.”
Frowning she followed his gaze and saw that her left side was flat, too. “Shit.”
…
It took Logan less than two minutes to find where the tires had been punctured with something sharp. Her tires had been in bad shape to begin with, so it hadn’t taken much. He should never have let her drive on these.
When he rose to his full height, the baby was screaming and Becky was frantically trying to calm her. Like history repeating itself from that first night he’d found them hiding in his bedroom. Except this time, the baby didn’t trigger his PTSD; instead, she and Becky roused his fiercely protective instincts. Maybe he couldn’t hold and play with the baby, but he wanted her safe, fed, and content, not stranded, frightened, and hungry. After all, it wasn’t Sophie’s fault that he was haunted by his failure that resulted in the murder of an innocent baby and school girls. “She’s hungry?”
Becky looked around, her dark eyes enormous in her pale face. “Yes.”
He wrapped his arm around her, feeling the strain in her muscles. She’d been scared, alone, and stranded with a baby. Containing his fury at himself for not making sure she had his number in her cell, he guided her to his truck and opened the passenger door. “Sit in here and you can feed her while I call a tow truck.” He helped her up to the seat, then unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off, leaving him in his white T-shirt. “Use this to cover up.”
She took the shirt, her fingers brushing his. “Thank you.”
“It’s going to be fine.” He took out his phone and made the call. A few minutes later he got into the truck. “Tow truck will be here in twenty. You okay if we wait?”
She nodded, but chewed on her bottom lip. “After paying for the paternity test today, I only have about four hundred dollars in my account. Will that cover towing and the two tires? Uh, I also need to get more diapers and dog food for Jiggy.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute. The baby’s contented sucking sounds filled the cab. His skin grew tight realizing how damned vulnerable Becky and the baby had been today. And he hadn’t even known she was gone. That was square on him for pulling back like he had. Because after that confrontation with his dad, then seeing Becky so worried and looking as if he could keep her and Sophie safe, the claustrophobia and nightmares had started again. So he did what he always did—withdrew to control his emotions and get level.
Why the hell would Becky have told him a damn thing? He’d cut her out emotionally. And now here she was chewing her lip trying to figure out how to pay for tires. “It’s more than enough since you’re not paying for it.” He turned to look at her. Even pale and tired, she was damned beautiful sitting there with his shirt thrown over her, feeding her baby.
She switched Sophie to her other breast. Logan should look away, but the tenderness of seeing Becky take care of the baby eased the rage that had been boiling in him since the encounter with his father. Once she settled his shirt over her again, she lifted her eyes to his.
“I talked to my lawyer. She needs the retainer Monday. If you can do that, I’ll take care of my car.”
Logan glanced at his watch. It was after three on Friday afternoon. He’d made Becky promises and hadn’t followed through. She’d done her part, playing his wife when his dad had shown up the night they married. But he hadn’t done his, instead she felt alone and unable to ask him for what she needed. He had to fix this. “I’ve got your car covered. We’ll stop by the lawyer’s office on the way home and I’ll take care of the retainer.”
“Thanks.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry to ask.”
Without thinking, he reached over, taking her hand. “Headache?”
“Long day.”
“And you hate taking money from me.” Or food until she’d decided she earned it by working in his house. “Why?” He wanted to understand. Now that he was with her again, letting his guard down, he was unable to resist wanting to know everything.
She leaned back, closing her eyes. “It’s like getting the free lunches at school. It felt like everyone stared. Kids made fun of me, well of all of us, in the program. And those lunch ladies, always asking if my mom was doing any better and telling me to take good care of her. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.”
Logan tightened his hand around hers. “About what? You were a kid. You couldn’t exactly work.” He regretted now not doing a deeper background. He’d checked the one they had on file, and he’d googled Dylan Ridgemont and the hit-and-run.
“My mom’s grief. I couldn’t bring them back. I was trying to be good, but I was having nightmares about the fire and was afraid to sleep alone.”
Oh hell, he’d definitely missed something. “Becky, look at me.”
She turned her head, her eyes shadowed.
He touched her face, wanting to ease the strain there. “Sweetheart, what fire?”
“A house fire. I was six. When my mom and I came home, our house was engulfed. Huge flames coming out the windows.”
Shit. “Who was home that day?”
“My father and brother. Tyler was nine. They couldn’t get to them. There was nothing they could do except hold my mom back.”
Jesus. She’d only been six. Her world had been destroyed. Logan had thought he had had a bad time of it? His mom was alive. Maybe he hadn’t seen her much, but the possibility was always there. “I’m sorry.” Those words were so damned inadequate.
She sat up, shifting Sophie and adjusting her clothes. “It got better. Before the fire, my mom had a part-time business sewing pageant dresses. When she recovered a little, she turned it into a full-time business and things were fine.”
This explained why Becky had a maturity and emotional depth most twenty-two-year-olds, like his younger sister Pam, hadn’t yet attained—she’d lived through some tough times at a very young age. He kept touching her face. “It sucked, baby. For you and your mom.”
“I was young, but my mom, she lost so much that day. It took her a while just to function again.”
Logan could see the old pain in her eyes. Her need to be touched and held went deeper than an asshole ex. “You suffered too. That’s not your mom’s fault, I’m sure she did the best she could. Did you try to take care of your mom?”
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t know how. That’s one of the reasons I want to become a nurse. They know how to take care of people.”
She took his breath away with comments like that. She’d felt powerless as a child, and instead of crying about it, she figured out a way to get the power she needed as an adult. Becky had a tender heart, but she was strong, resilient, and kickass in her own way. If money was her only obstacle to her nursing degree, he was going to fix that and make it happen for her. That was something tangible and real that he could give her.