Chapter 2

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Logan followed Jen through a dingy restaurant only slightly larger than a tack room. Smoke and grease oozed out of every nook and cranny, mingling with the pungent smell of barbeque sauce. The best joints generally looked like a breeding ground for food poisoning, and he hoped that was true in this case. Crank-out windows on three sides of the shack had been opened. Still, it was hot in here compared to the mild temperatures outside.

“How about this?” He indicated an open booth. “We’ll have a window.”

The clicking of her high heels stopped. “Helpful if the place catches fire.”

Her quick retort amused him. Jen’s sharp wit was the second thing about her that attracted him. The first thing was her sweet ass. Unfortunately, when he’d strolled into her back yard and saw her bent over, his brain had stopped working, and he’d blurted that stupid remark about trimming her bush. Holy shit. A wonder she hadn’t told him to go to hell. He’d managed to redeem himself after befriending her dog.

Chowing down on barbeque seemed like a good way to relax and get acquainted. Or that’s what he thought when he asked Troy to suggest a good place for ribs. Jen had said she preferred something simple and casual. She looked dressed for neither. Fitted black top, electric blue skirt, chase-me heels—he didn’t recall telling her she’d be dancing with the stars. He wouldn’t complain though. She looked as fine in that outfit as she’d looked in those stretchy pants, which had distracted the hell out of him.

She drew her skirt beneath her and scooted onto the bench, past a torn spot where the stuffing had come out. “Do you suppose ripped vinyl is a deliberate design feature?”

“Absolutely.” He set down the tray with the food they’d collected at the counter and slipped onto the opposite bench. Someone had half-heartedly swiped a damp rag over the faded plastic tablecloth after the last guests had vacated. “And the oily checkered tablecloth. That’s a nice touch too.”

Jen looked up at the unfinished wall. Hanging, slightly tilted, was a framed vintage print advertising repair services on Woodies. Someone had cut off the illustration of the old station wagon.

She arched an eyebrow, conveying her thoughts with one small gesture. His grandmother did that. Pops had called her “saucy.” The word fit Jen as well.

“Let me guess. This place is on the top ten for the most charming redneck restaurants.”

“Even better...” Logan leaned on his arms, grinning. “Rated number one by Atlanta goat ropers.”

Jen’s dark eyes gleamed with amusement. She didn’t break eye contact, not even when her watch glowed with some new notification. He hoped that meant she was as fascinated with him as he was with her. Although something about her intent appraisal reminded him of the way his father studied a horse he was thinking about purchasing.

Logan exhaled a dry laugh. Jen wasn’t buying anything, and he wasn’t selling. He might consider giving it away, if she kept looking at him like that.

She shed her black all-weather coat, which had pink-lipped kisses stenciled all over it. Not many women could manage to make something ridiculous appear classy. Further evidence she’d be an interesting date.

“You should’ve warned me about the dress code. Sadly, I don’t own a Western shirt or Wranglers.” She eyed his get-up. “I do have boots.”

“Are they stenciled with pink lips?”

“Do you have something against pink lips, cowboy?” she asked, giving him another arched look.

God, she was adorable.

“I love pink lips.” He stopped short of saying he’d be happy to sample hers. Later, maybe, depending on how well things went.

It’d been a long time since someone stirred his interest like Jen did. He hadn’t expected her to ask him out on a date. That had been a surprise—a nice one. She had seemed a little worried, but if she didn’t ask guys out on a regular basis, she might’ve panicked, thinking he’d see it as an invitation to jump her bones. Honestly, the thought had entered his mind, more than once. But he didn’t intend to start anything. He’d just have a nice dinner with a pretty woman who’d flattered him with her invitation. Beyond that...

He couldn’t think beyond that. He had too many obligations waiting for him back home to get tangled up in a long-distance relationship, and he didn’t do one-night stands...though he might make an exception in Jen’s case.

She turned the paper boat holding her turkey sandwich. An odd choice at a rib joint, but some people didn’t care for ribs.

“Let’s hit the chow.” Logan rolled up his sleeves.

She stared pointedly at his forearm. “Is that a tattoo of a man on a horse?”

Hard to tell whether she was impressed or turned off. She didn’t wrinkle her nose, so that was a good sign.

“It’s a Comanche warrior. My mother’s family can trace their roots back to Quanah Parker. You might’ve heard of him. He was a famous half-white chief.”

Jen’s eyes widened with awe. “You’re part Native American?”

“The blond hair and blue eyes give it away every time.” Logan basked in her rapt attention. Things couldn’t be going better on a first date.  She was impressed with his ancestry, she appreciated his sense of humor, and she looked as if she wanted to take a bite of him instead of the turkey sandwich.

Jen couldn’t keep her mind on her food with Logan flashing that dimple and giving her heart palpitations. He’d been flirting nonstop and clearly thought this was going somewhere. She hoped he wouldn’t be too angry when he discovered the direction.

“You aren’t eating,” he pointed out. “Would you rather go somewhere else?”

She could imagine where he might suggest, and it wouldn’t be a restaurant. “Oh, no. This is fine. These small, undiscovered places usually have the best food.”

He glanced around. “Looks like it’s been discovered.”

True enough. The tiny hole-in-the-wall was packed with customers, in jeans as well as business suits. Logan fit in just fine, yet she didn’t look out of place. “I’ve only been in Atlanta for a little over a month and haven’t had time to research restaurants.”

Or sperm banks, for that matter.

She poured her lite beer into a plastic cup and took a sip. Thank God Logan couldn’t read her mind. That didn’t make it any less embarrassing when she thought about what she was about to do—interview a potential sperm donor without him realizing her purpose. A first date was the perfect set-up for questioning him, as couples were generally eager to learn more about each other. Might as well start with his eating habits.

“You like barbeque?”

“Oh yeah. I got a weakness for slow-smoked ribs.” He turned his plate around, tore off a rib and bit into it.

She couldn’t stop staring at the colorful tattoo along the side of his muscular forearm. The exotic design intrigued her, even though she didn’t care for tattoos. She had the oddest urge to trace the image with her fingertips. A scar snaked the length of Logan’s thumb. Looked like an old injury...from barbed wire? Oh, for God’s sake, no one used barbed wire anymore. There were more humane ways to keep cattle in a pasture. Weren’t there? She didn’t know squat about cows or cowboys.

Jen sneaked a peek at her smart watch. She’d need to learn all she could about this cowboy and fast. Based on her ovulation-tracking app, she’d reach her peak fertility late next week, and he’d be gone shortly thereafter.

After wiping his hands on a paper towel, he selected a spicy sauce and squirted it over the remaining ribs. “How about you? What kind of barbeque do you like?”

“Oh, just about anything. Turkey, chicken...” She didn’t want to appear picky, after telling him she didn’t care, then ridiculing his choice in eating establishments. He exhibited a well-developed sense of humor, so he knew she was teasing. Not everyone appreciated sarcasm, and his rapid-fire banter was refreshing.

“You want to taste one of these?” He held out a meaty rib. “They’re great.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “Thanks, but no. I don’t eat smoked ribs. Not because I don’t like them—they taste wonderful—but they’re loaded with fat. Plus, charred meat isn’t good for you. It contains carcinogens.”

Undaunted, he polished it off before responding. “How can something that tastes so good be bad?”

“Lots of things we like aren’t good for us.”

“So you avoid them?”

“For the most part.”

He unrolled another paper towel. “My grandpa had a saying: Everything in moderation. It’s a good philosophy. One I try to live by.”

Clearly, Logan didn’t overindulge in rich food and drink, or he wouldn’t look like a cover model for Cowboys & Indians. 

Jen picked up her dry turkey sandwich. “If you can practice moderation, it’s a good philosophy with regard to eating.”

“Pops wasn’t just talking about food.”

He had a point. She might be missing out on some of life’s pleasures because she didn’t think she could manage them. For her, it was all or nothing. Strict adherence to self-made rules kept her urges in check. She clung to comfortable routines. One might call her slavish in her devotion to her schedule. Logan appeared more laid back. An easy-going personality would be a nice counterbalance to her obsessive tendencies.

“Tell me more about your family.” She left the door open, purposely. Whatever he chose to share would be revealing.

“That could take all night.” His slow smile made her lips tingle.

All night didn’t sound bad.

“I’ll give you the condensed version so you don’t get bored. I have four brothers: Ross is the oldest, he’s a sheriff’s deputy; Clay helps out with the horses in between rodeos; Huston just got discharged from the Army; then there’s me, and my younger brother, Austin...”

He hesitated a moment, and Jen filled in the blanks with a guess.

“Rides broncos?”

“No. He works at a fancy restaurant in Fort Worth.”

“As a waiter?”

“Head chef.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Glad you think so. He gets a load a crap from my brothers about wearing apron strings.”

Macho guys could be jerks. “What do you think about it?”

“I think he’s a damn good cook. Wish we could afford him on the ranch.”

Jen smiled, pleased by his response. “You love your little brother.”

“I love all my brothers.”

His matter-of-fact proclamation set off a twinge in Jen’s chest. She hoped Logan’s brothers appreciated and loved him too.

“What about the ranch, does it have a name?” She wondered if it was the same one she’d read about.

“The Double H.”

Bingo.

“Based on your family’s name, I presume?”

“Actually, Double H stands for Double Hearts, which I assume was a play on our family name. My great-great-grandfather created a brand that resembles interlocking hearts. As the story goes, he was madly in love with his wife, so much so that he made her legal co-owner of the ranch.”

That romantic tidbit had little to do with what she needed to find out, but it was fascinating nonetheless. 

“He doesn’t sound like your typical nineteenth century chauvinist.”

Logan took a swig of beer from the can. “Mm, based on what I’ve heard, he was quite a character. Pops knew lots of stories about the family. Wish I’d listened better. When he passed away, the ranch went to my grandmother. My aunts are pressuring her to sell out to developers. Dad wants to keep the ranch.”

“So you really are a cowboy.”

“My father prefers the term ‘rancher.’ ”

“What do you prefer?”

Logan’s smile implied he found something funny. “Most folks don’t know the difference. They call any man who wears boots a cowboy, and every handgun a Colt 45.”

The stinker! He was poking fun at her ignorance of both. 

Unable to come up with a good response, Jen simply ate her sandwich.

Logan finished demolishing a side of ribs and, thankfully, refrained from talking while chewing, then pushed aside the bones and carefully wiped his mouth and fingers.

She couldn’t resist. “You have good manners—for a cowboy.”

His dimple reappeared as his smile broadened. “My mama taught me right.”

“Passable grammar.”

“Hey, now. I’ll have you know I got A’s in English.”

Jen congratulated herself for not being obvious. Smart as he was, he hadn’t figured out that she was following a list of questions. “Did you go to college?”

“Yes, ma’am. Earned a degree from Texas A&M”—Logan regarded her with a pleased expression, as if he found her interest flattering. Hopefully, he’d be just as flattered when he found out why she was so interested—“and got accepted into the veterinary program.”

No dummy, then.

“You’re a veterinarian?”

“No. I didn’t finish.” Growing somber, he reached for his beer. After draining the can, he crunched it in his fist. Something had prevented him from completing his education, and he was frustrated by it.

“Why not?”

“Money.” He set the crushed can aside and rested his arms on the table. Along with the scar on his thumb, he had other marks on the back of his hands. Perhaps he was careless, or maybe he just worked hard at tough physical labor and didn’t have the benefit of a cushy job, or a trust to fund his schooling.

She started to reach out, but then curled her fingers into a fist and pretended she hadn’t been about to touch him. She wasn’t here to hold his hand, even if only for the purpose of offering comfort. She could give Logan something better. He needed money to finish school, which would give him good motivation for accepting an offer, should she choose to extend one.

She mentally reviewed her list and checked off Intelligence. 

“Was it something I said?”

“What?”

His blue eyes gleamed with amusement. The gene for brown eyes was dominant, but if she got lucky... “Am I boring you? Your mind wandered off.”

“A woman’s mind never wanders off. It just gets busy with multiple things.”

“Men don’t do that. We stay focused.”

“You can’t do that. There’s a difference.”

“Who says we can’t juggle?” He picked up the plastic fork, spoon and knife. “Want a demonstration?”

“Maybe some other time.” Her mind was multitasking just fine, but the interview had wandered off topic. Despite enjoying the lighthearted banter, she wasn’t on a date, and it was time to stop acting like she was smitten.

Before asking him to submit to a blood test, she wanted to know more about his family. “You mentioned your grandmother, how old is she?”

“Eighty-two this month.”

“Is she in good health?”

He released a dry laugh. “Miss Kate can run circles around us. If something needs to be done, she does it. She’s four foot eleven, and a hundred pounds dripping wet, tougher than a Texas Longhorn and just as mean when she’s riled.”

“She sounds ferocious.”

Logan grinned. “You remind me of her.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“ ’Course it is. She’s great. You’d like her.”

Had any other man compared her to his grandmother, she would’ve been ready to leave. But coming from Logan, who obviously adored his family, it didn’t seem particularly odd, or insulting.

“I’m sure I would like her,” Jen acknowledged. “What about your father? Is he just as tough?”

“Tougher.”

“And your mother?”

Logan’s amused smile faded. “She died five years back. After fighting cancer for over a year.”

All it took was one look at the grief on his face to know how much his mother had meant to him. Jen ached for his loss. Her problems with her parents seemed, in contrast, insignificant. At least she had both parents. “I’m sorry. It must’ve been hard losing your mother like that.”

“It was...still is.”

“Has anyone else in your immediate family had cancer?” Genetics often played a role.

He shook his head with a perplexed frown. “No other women in her family died from breast cancer, far are we know. Her folks are pushing ninety and still going strong. Her grandparents lived a long time too. Dad said he couldn’t remember Mom being sick before the cancer got her.”

Jen recalled he’d talked only about his other grandmother. “What happened to your grandfather? The one you call Pops.”

Logan rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. “We lost him ten years ago.”

“Heart attack?” That would be her guess.

“No, he was healthy as a horse. A drunk ran into his pickup head-on.”

Jen covered her mouth, stifling a gasp. “Oh no, how awful...” She struggled to find the right words. There were no right words. Nothing was adequate.

Logan peered out the window into the darkness. He might be uncomfortable with articulating deep emotions. So was she, and it was fine if he didn’t want to go there. She didn’t need to delve into his soul to decide whether he’d be an acceptable donor.

After a moment, he brought his attention back to her. “Tell me about your family.”

Her family? That topic wasn’t going to make the conversation lighter. Still, he had the right to ask questions, considering the grilling she was giving him.

“I didn’t know my grandparents well. My dad’s parents were gone before I was born. My maternal grandmother lived the longest. She was eighty-two when she died. But she lived in a retirement home in Florida, and I didn’t see her often.”

“What about your parents?”

“Mom’s retired and living in Hawaii. Dad stays as far away from her as possible. He has a place in New York.” Jen couldn’t see a reason for going into any more detail than that. She wasn’t here to talk about her relationship with her parents, a topic generally off-limits with friends, much less someone who was still pretty much a stranger. 

“Any brothers or sisters?”

She didn’t like the spotlight, but she couldn’t fault him for showing an interest in her. Her last date had talked endlessly without much prompting. “I’m an only child.”

Logan regarded her with a sympathetic look. He projected his perspective onto her life, assuming she’d missed out on what he valued—a big, close family. She could hardly miss something she’d never had. She was a little jealous though.

Uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Jen flipped it back on him. “I’ve lived a boring life. I’m sure you have fascinating stories.”

He gave a laugh. “Fascinating? That’s assuming a lot.”

She didn’t think so. Not with his good looks and that country-boy charm. He could have any woman he wanted. Taking another sip of beer, she pondered how to discover another important fact. Was he sexually active? If he slept around, he was more likely to carry venereal disease. “What about your...relationships? Have you had many?”

Surprise flashed across his face, followed by momentary confusion, then a pleased smile played around his mouth. He wasn’t one of those pokerfaced cowboys. Then again, he didn’t seem to care that she could read his emotions. “Why do you want to know?”

Jen was glad she’d shed her coat, as hot as it was in here. She’d never chased a guy, much less probed into his love life, but she couldn’t explain her interest without spilling the beans, which she wasn’t ready to do. “Just curious,” she muttered.

His smile turned wry. “You want names and dates?”

She gasped at the unexpected quip. Liquid trickled down her windpipe, and she burst out coughing. Logan handed her a paper towel. When she couldn’t stop hacking, he got up and went to the counter to ask for a glass of water.

He would list his conquests? He had to be joking. Even if he wasn’t, she had no desire to know personal details.

“Here, drink this.” He stood beside her until she’d gotten her breath. Maybe he thought she’d need CPR. Attentive and considerate—whether simply a reflection of good manners or true compassion, both were appreciated. A pity those traits weren’t inherited. When she first met him, she was tempted to write him off as nothing more than a good-looking cowboy. But Logan was more than that. Far more. He was what they would’ve called a gentleman in the old days. She knew men with more impressive resumes, but she liked none of them half as much as she liked Logan. She decided then and there that liking the donor would be added to her list of requirements.

She waved Logan back to his seat. “I’m fine. Just a tickle,” she rasped.

Her watch vibrated. She checked the readout before turning off the notification. Darn. She’d forgotten to chart her basal body temperature this morning.

“Something important you need to do?”

Not choke to death?

Still struggling to stop coughing, she shook her head. “It’s my...ovulation tracking... notification.”

Glancing up and seeing his perplexed frown, she realized her blunder and formulated a quick explanation. “This new smart watch is designed especially for women with lots of useful apps.” She blathered on, hoping to distract him with talk about her job. “I’m testing the beta model, the company is one of our agency accounts.”

“That’s impressive. What else does it do? Notify you when you ought to have sex?”

His quick mind had latched onto the implications, which meant he could easily figure out why she might be tracking ovulation.

Shaken, but not about to show it, she kept her tone businesslike. “Actually, yes. It involves a number of factors that get recorded, and are taken into account in the calculations. The app issues a notification when there’s a window of opportunity for conceiving.”

“Is the window open?” he asked without blinking an eye.

Oh, but she’d stepped in it this time.

Bits and pieces of other conversations drifted over—sports talk, fishing, Little League, a favorite movie—nothing as interesting as what they were discussing. God, she hoped the people around them weren’t eavesdropping.

Logan didn’t believe her, or he thought she was wacky. Everything she’d told him was the gospel truth. She’d just left out the part about her personal interest. Seemed a little early to be approaching him about being a donor.

Then again, with a donor identified, she could be pregnant by the time the new application launched. She still needed more facts about Logan’s background and his physical condition. But she couldn’t get that information without asking, and what was the point in pursuing it if he wasn’t interested?

“I offered to test it because I’m planning to have a baby—by artificial insemination.”

No laughter. No wry smile. No look of disbelief. Before, he’d been pretty easy to read; but now, when it mattered most, he gave her no reaction, thoroughly hiding his thoughts.

His gaze dropped to her half-finished sandwich. “You’ll need to eat more.”

Of all the things she expected him to say, a remark on her eating habits wasn’t one of them. “Of course. I know that. I’m not very hungry at the moment.”

She leaned forward, keeping her voice low enough so as not to be overheard by the people around them. “There’s only one problem...I need a donor.”