Guarded hazel eyes lifted to his. God help him, he wanted to hold onto his righteous anger. Problem was, after all she’d just hit him with, righteousness had been revealed as nothing more than ill-advised, and quite frankly, petty jealously.
Her going behind his back still annoyed the hell out of him, but seeing her grandma standing there looking so upset, he realized once again her motives were not as selfish as he’d assumed. She might be using any means necessary to get him to do what she wanted, but what she wanted was to make her grandmother happy while June could still enjoy the little things in her life. It was impossible to stay mad in the face of such noble intentions.
Logan slung his arm across Joy’s stiff shoulders and hugged her to his side. “Of course we’re going to argue about some things, just like I’m sure you and Al have over the years.”
June’s expression eased as she nodded. “We’ve had some doozies.”
“But you always make up and move on, and so will we.”
Joy’s bare shoulder and arm distracted him for a moment, giving him ideas as to how they could make up as he ran his fingers up and down her soft skin in an effort to relax the tension in her stiff body.
“Then you’re still getting married?”
Get your mind back where it belongs!
“Of course we are,” he assured June.
“Thank goodness.” The older woman laid her hand over her heart in a gesture of relief and gave them a wide smile. “Okay, then. Finish your discussion and get to the kiss and make up part so we can get back to trying on this veil. You really shouldn’t have seen the dress, Logan, but…oh, don’t worry about it. That’s just an old wives’ tale.” She paused in her rambling to eye them with expectation. “Come on now, get to it. I’ll be waiting inside.”
After the screen door slammed, he turned his gaze to Joy in anticipation of the kissing part of their little make up scene. Unfortunately, the annoyed compression of her lips told him the tables had turned.
“Is this going to be a daily thing for me to worry about?” she demanded. “You flipping back and forth whenever you see Gram? Because I’d rather deal with her confusion than wonder if you’ll say you’ll marry me today, and then change your mind tomorrow.”
Say you’ll marry me…man, that sounded so real—especially with her standing in front of him in a wedding dress. Hell, between her tears, her past, her grandma, and how damn beautiful she looked, he might marry her right now if she asked.
“You have my word. I’ll pretend as long as you need me to.”
For some reason, the promise made her frown, but then she nodded with a quiet thanks and started toward the porch steps, her head bent.
“Forgetting something?”
She hesitated before turning back to face him with a resigned sigh that slayed his ego. “She’s watching, isn’t she?”
“Living room window.” It sounded like something June would do, anyway.
Joy raised her gaze to his, but didn’t move. There was something very vulnerable in the way she stood there in that wedding dress, watching him, waiting for him to kiss her.
Without breaking eye contact, he stepped forward and raised his hands to palm her face. As he leaned in, he said, “I’m sorry I said your life was easy.”
Emotion flashed in her eyes a second before she closed them with a whispered, “Damn you, Logan.”
Then she kissed him breathless, stepped back to scoop up the train of her dress, and ran inside.
*
Damm him?
No, damn her.
For a number of reasons, not the least of which was going to the bank behind his back.
For arguing with him while wearing that damn wedding dress that had him imagining her walking down the aisle toward him for real. He’d used the word pretend in his promise to her to give himself a reality check, but it wasn’t working.
For pointing out what an insensitive jerk he was and making him feel bad about being pissed off when he had every right to be pissed off.
For kissing him to the point of distraction.
Logan shoved the tool box into the bed of his truck and slammed the tailgate. All good reasons to damn the woman, but the worst of all was her not believing he could save his farm on his own.