Rock-a-Bye Bride Page 3

  Why dwell on what she didn’t have—couldn’t have—with Logan? Especially when it was so much smarter to focus on what she did have: an honorable, reliable, responsible man standing firmly at her side. A man who wanted to provide the best he possibly could for their baby. A better man, perhaps, than she’d ever before known.

  In Logan, she had a partner, and over time, she might be able to call him a friend, as well. Maybe even a good friend. So yes, it would be enough.

  It had to be enough.

  Chapter Two

  Logan disconnected the phone call and sighed. How had everything become so damn complicated so damn fast? He’d just finished telling his mother about the baby and his upcoming wedding, and while Carla Cordero had expressed her support, along with a promise to be at the ceremony, she wasn’t jumping for joy over the circumstances.

  Why would she be? She knew exactly where he stood, albeit wearing a different pair of shoes. Twenty-nine-odd years ago, she’d been the single woman facing an unexpected pregnancy. And she’d done the only thing she could: packed her bags, left Denver and returned home to her family. So yeah, he understood that she’d wanted different for Logan.

  As well, despite the conversation—well, more of an argument—he’d had with his grandfather yesterday, he learned that Zeke was still smoking his cigars, ignoring his meds and flat-out refusing to go along with the low-cholesterol diet his nutritionist had supplied. His mother was anxious, dealing with Zeke and trying to keep Rosalie calm.

  And he’d just added a freight train of stress onto her already loaded-down shoulders.

  The presence of this baby did not alter the rest of Logan’s life. His family still needed him in Wyoming as much as possible, but returning on a permanent basis would now have to be delayed. To that end, he’d already talked to his landlord about extending the lease on this house for a full year. And, well, he also knew that he’d be spending a lot less time at the ranch than every other week. Anna would require him here, especially as her due date closed in.

  On the plus side—not that there was ever a truly good time, because a ranch never went into full sleep mode—the timing of his absence could’ve been a whole lot worse.

  While Bur Oak’s primary enterprise was cattle, they also grew hay and corn, and the last of this season’s crops had just been harvested. Fortunately, calving season didn’t start until late spring, months after the baby’s birth, and that was when he’d absolutely have to live at the ranch. Of course, there was a lot of preparation and upkeep required for both of the ranch’s enterprises. Repairs around the property and on machinery were a constant demand, the animals still required tending to and there was a whole mess of other day-in and day-out responsibilities.

  None of which fell directly on Logan’s plate—between family and employees, everyone had a role—but he was the conductor of the whole symphony.

  He supposed he’d tackle whatever he could, the best he could, and the people in his life would just have to pick up the slack. They would, without question, but that did not stop him from feeling torn by obligation. To his family and his duty, yes, but also to the love he felt toward the land he’d been raised on. That ranch was in his blood, as surely as his DNA.

  Zeke had seen to that. From the moment of his birth, Logan had learned everything there was to know about Bur Oak Ranch. The legacy behind the land. The sweat and work and tears and pride that had gone into creating that legacy. The importance of continuing it.

  And Logan was damn grateful. He could not imagine his life any other way, and he’d always been surrounded by family. Well...the Cordero side of the family.

  The Daugherty side, on the other hand, not so much. Logan had never met his father’s siblings or parents or any cousins that might exist on that branch. And maybe he shouldn’t, but he felt connected to them just the same. Maybe due to Gavin. Maybe because he carried the Daugherty surname. Or because—and this was the more likely explanation—he couldn’t let go of the thought that if his father had lived longer, he would’ve behaved honorably.

  Denny must have wanted Logan to carry his last name, or he wouldn’t be a Daugherty. Some would chalk that up to nothing but male pride on his father’s part, but Logan thought it went deeper than that. Hoped so, anyway, now that he knew more of the story.

  Initially, in the months after his birth, his grandfather hadn’t allowed Denny to come within spitting distance of the ranch. But Denny refused to take no for an answer, kept showing up despite Zeke’s ire, and Carla would whisk Logan to a park or a restaurant or some other public location in order for father and son to spend time together.

  Later, in the year before Denny’s accident, his grandfather had relented, allowing these visits to take place at the ranch. Zeke did not give up a fight—any fight—easily, so Logan had to figure that Granddad saw something in Denny to soften his views. There were photos of father and son playing on the living room floor. There were a few of Logan sitting on his father’s lap, being read to. There was even one of Denny and Logan conked out on the sofa together.

  All of this had led him to believe that if Denny had lived, he would’ve eventually brought Logan fully into the Daugherty family, instead of keeping his existence a secret.

  Yet he’d never know for sure.

  Fortunately, his child would not have the same experience. Logan’s mother, grandparents, uncles and cousins would stand steady. And they’d do so until the day they died. Because damn it, that was what being a part of the Cordero family meant.

  Logan’s child would never experience the doubt that he grew up with, wondering why his father hadn’t loved him enough to do what was right. Because even as a kid, he understood that his parents hadn’t been married. He just hadn’t known why. Back then, he’d blamed himself.

  Now...well, now he knew better. But kids sensed when something in their world wasn’t quite the way it should be and, without ever saying a word, picked up that weight and carried the full brunt of it everywhere they went, causing all sorts of silent, damaging havoc.

  And that right there was precisely why marrying Anna was so all-fired important. He never wanted his kids—regardless of how they came to be—to wonder if they’d been a mistake. And this temporary-marriage idea of his—while harebrained to a rather large extent—was about the best he could come up with to ensure that would not happen.

  Logan stretched his legs and closed his eyes, his thoughts moving on to the other half of his child’s parentage. He knew next to nothing about Anna’s family. They’d spent nearly three hours talking, but every part of their discussion had revolved around the baby, their individual wishes and, of course, the year and a half or so that they would remain husband and wife.

  Undeniably, they were entering this oddball relationship completely backward. Also irrefutable was the fact that their marriage would come to an end. But the way Logan saw it, their connection shouldn’t. They would—from here on out—always be involved in each other’s lives.

  Just that fast, his curiosity about this woman caught on fire. His heart started beating a tad faster and a mite harder. Who was Anna? What were her dreams, her goals? What was her childhood like? Who were the first boy she kissed and the last man she loved?

  Had she told her family she was marrying him? If so, had the conversation gone well, or were they—at this exact minute, perhaps—trying to convince her to back out of the wedding?

  Well, hell. He did not like that possibility in any way, shape or form.

  Logan opened his eyes and sat up straight. They weren’t supposed to talk again until the day after tomorrow, when they met for lunch to discuss the specific details of their wedding. But now that seemed too far away. Wouldn’t hurt anything to call her, would it?

  He supposed in the world of possibilities, one existed in which, yes, a quick phone call could have a negative effect. The law of averages, ho
wever, rested largely in his favor.

  Without giving the idea any further consideration, he found her number—which she’d given him earlier, when he gave her his—in his mobile and hit Send. She answered almost immediately, and the ragged edges of his anxiety disappeared into thin air.

  “Logan?” she asked, her voice low and soft and sleepy. Warm, too. “Is everything okay?”

  “I was about to ask the same question,” he said, matching the volume of his voice to hers. “How’d everything go with your family? I’m hoping it went well.”

  “That would be my aunt Lola, as neither of my sisters is local. Nor are we very close,” she said with a small sigh. “Lola took it pretty well, I think. She’s concerned, of course, but she’s...um...pretty much on board. She even offered to buy my wedding dress.”

  A plethora of questions begged to be asked, but Logan squelched them all. He wanted to hear about Anna’s sisters, her aunt, where her parents were and why she hadn’t mentioned either of them, but he didn’t need that information this second. Not when she sounded so drained and tired. “I’d say that’s a positive sign, wouldn’t you? I’m glad, Anna. I was worried.”

  “Worried? Whatever about?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe that after telling your family, you’d change your mind and decide to do this without my involvement.” He’d move heaven and earth, if necessary, to stop that from happening. “I’m asking a lot from you, I know.”

  “Really?” she asked. “And here I was, thinking I was doing all the taking. But no, Logan, I haven’t changed my mind. I’m in this, so long as you don’t give me a valid reason not to be.”

  “Such as?”

  For half a heartbeat, he didn’t think she was going to respond. But then she said, “It would take a lot. You’d have to start storming around and yelling all of the time, or insisting on ridiculous rules that would be almost impossible for any child to adhere to, or... I don’t know...other versions of extreme behavior that wouldn’t be conducive to a healthy environment,” she said in a near whisper. There was strength there, too. “Then I’d bail without question or hesitation.”

  “I see.” He was hit with a peculiar combination of emotions, and he wasn’t altogether sure which he felt the most acutely: sadness at the possibility that Anna’s childhood had included some of what she’d mentioned, or anger that she might think he was capable of behaving so erratically. It took some doing, but he dismissed both.

  “Time will prove this, Anna, but I am not that type of man.”

  “Most men aren’t,” she said. “But they do exist, and if I had any inkling you were one of them, I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you. Even on a temporary basis. I would’ve just said ‘No, thank you’ and gone on my merry way. My...heart tells me you’re a good man, Logan.”

  “Again,” he said, “I hope time will prove that to you.”

  Neither spoke for several minutes, yet the silence wasn’t uncomfortable or unnerving. It was almost reverent in its peace. The same feeling he had when looking out on a fresh blanket of snow coating his family’s land, when the world was quiet and calm and serene.

  Finally, because he didn’t want this moment to become something less, he said, “I like you, Anna Rockwood. I think we’re going to do just fine.”

  “I like you, too, Logan Daugherty. And I hope you’re right.” She yawned, and he could almost see her curled beneath a heap of blankets, her phone to her ear, her beautiful hair mussed around her head on the pillow. “I don’t want to mess up this kid of ours.”

  “A goal we share.” They talked for another minute, mostly about their schedules for the next day, and then he said, “Sleep tight, Anna. And I know we have lunch planned, but do you mind if I call tomorrow night? Just to check in and see how you’re doing.”

  “Oh. Please do. Night, Logan.”

  They hung up and Logan tossed his phone on the end table. He couldn’t quite decide what to do with himself, as he wasn’t tired enough for sleep and he didn’t much feel like trying to put in a couple of hours of work. Odd how empty and silent the house seemed.

  Too quiet. So he grabbed the remote and turned on the television, flipped through the channels and found nothing of interest. Nothing that would erase the yearning to call Anna back, stretch out in his chair and talk to her, or hell, do nothing but listen.

  Frankly, he would’ve happily stayed on the phone for the entire night just to hear her voice, or if she fell asleep, the even, comforting sounds of her breathing.

  Logan let that thought simmer for a few seconds before a rough laugh emerged. First, he’d been all but thrumming to learn as much as he could about her, and then he’d decided to call her out of the blue. And now...this? Breathing, for crying out loud? Really?

  Obviously, impending fatherhood had made him a good deal more sentimental than his normal, somewhat contained self. It wasn’t entirely irrational, though. Some sentiment and awe toward his baby’s mother was to be expected. Natural and normal.

  Therefore, it was likely that once the child was born, Logan’s sentiment and awe would redirect from Anna to the baby. Seemed a logical enough assumption.

  What he couldn’t do was confuse this natural enough sentiment with delusions of actually falling for Anna. Such a scenario had the potential of creating a boatload of problems down the road. And he wouldn’t forgive himself if that happened.

  Carla had believed that Denny loved her, that his intentions toward her were honorable and that, eventually, he’d tell his wife the truth. So they could marry and become a real family.

  While Logan did not agree with his mother’s decision to continue her relationship with Denny after discovering he had a wife and son, he understood the myriad complexities of the situation. The bottom line, in Logan’s view, was that Carla had allowed herself to remain in an untenable position due to promises that Denny had not lived up to.

  And his mother had never forgiven herself, nor had she completely excised the pain.

  So no, Logan would not confuse his complicated situation with misguided emotions, despite his inane longing to hear Anna breathe. Come hell or high water, he’d live up to his word, his promises to Anna, and be the type of man—the type of father—Denny had failed at.

  * * *

  Tomorrow. Her wedding was tomorrow.

  Anna tucked the multicolored crocheted afghan around her legs and watched her aunt, who sat across the room from her, seemingly lost in a book. They were at odds with one another, as they’d gone round and round on the topic of her wedding for the past two weeks.

  Oh, when she’d told Logan that her aunt was “pretty much on board,” she hadn’t outright lied. Lola had offered to buy Anna’s wedding dress—which she had now done—and she would support Anna, regardless of whether she agreed with her decision. But no, she did not agree.

  And Anna craved her aunt’s approval. In many ways, Lola had become her mother, and Anna hated to cause her even a second of undue stress. And that was partially why it was so important to get her point of view across. If Lola understood, she wouldn’t worry so much.

  For now, though, it might be smarter to wait for Lola to bring up the topic.

  So, while she waited, she’d drink her chamomile tea, unwind and watch some cotton-candy television. And do her best not to think about the fact that in twenty-four hours, she’d be in Logan’s house, in the bedroom he’d set up for her there—displacing his office furniture to the already cramped living room—and... Well, she didn’t know, precisely, what she would be doing.

  Sleeping, maybe.

  The past few weeks had swallowed every scrap of her energy, and truly, she would have liked nothing better than a solid eight hours of deep sleep. It had been very much like a race to the finish line getting to this point, with all the conversations, the details to be worked out and finalized, setting boundaries and exp
ectations and, of course, planning for the wedding.

  Tonight, as tired as she was, she’d be lucky to sleep at all. Tomorrow, with the ceremony behind her and the move to Logan’s house complete, she should—please, God—be able to relax.

  She had the odd realization that she’d miss their evening phone calls, even though they would be living together. Ever since Logan’s first spontaneous call, they’d taken to having a conversation each night, and throughout the daytime hours, she looked forward to those quiet, private moments when it was just them. No matter what she was feeling or going through, the deep, rich tone of his voice served to temporarily soothe her troubles into extinction.

  One thing was for certain: she was still just as attracted to Logan as she’d been that night at Mick’s Place, without the help of even a drop of alcohol. She liked his eyes, his smile, those long, firm legs of his, and every time she saw him, she was reminded of how well he wore a pair of jeans. On Logan, plain old denim was anything but boring.

  Anna gnawed on her lip, remembering the flat, muscular tightness of his stomach and the sensation of being encircled in Logan’s arms. He was, without doubt, the epitome of male strength, yet nothing about his physical presence threatened her. Not even the day she’d finally forced herself to pull into his driveway to deliver the news of her pregnancy.

  The culprit of that withering mass of anxiety was simple: undiluted fear of what he would say, of what would come next, if he’d prove he was a stand-up guy or run for the hills.

  And Lord, had he proved the former.

  Tightening her hold on her tea, Anna let the comforting warmth sink deep into her skin. She understood her aunt’s concerns...of course she did, but why couldn’t Lola see all the amazing qualities in Logan that she herself saw?