Wild Girl (Wild Men Texas #3) - Melissa Belle Page 0,23

at his shaggy hair underneath his Spurs hat, his Howdy t-shirt and his ripped jeans, and I smiled at him wearily. He pulled on his cowboy boots and followed me away from the house.

“How’d the wall-building effort go?” I asked him.

“It’s done.” He shrugged. “Mama got her separate nighttime quarters like she read about in those Regency romance novels. Daddy asked the contractor to saw their bed in half, too, but he refused. So Mama got the king, and Daddy has Reid’s old twin bed.” He rubbed his head. “Shit. My father’s not even drinking anymore, and they still hate each other.”

I touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded. Then, he looked at my outfit. “Who are you trying to impress? Did you have a date for tonight?”

I shook my head. “No, but I thought I’d be able to go to Homecoming, just for fun. Like a normal seventeen-year-old girl. I forget my life isn’t close to normal.”

“How long do you think y’all will have to live there this time?”

“I don’t know. Daddy defaulted on the mortgage again. He still swears he’ll get the house back, but you know, he just got out of rehab and now we lost our liquor license.”

“Rehab,” Logan said flatly.

“Yeah, he was doing a shot with some blond bimbo before the police came and shut us down, so rehab looks like a smashing success from where I’m standing.”

Logan took my hand and led me to his truck. “Let’s go to the creek.”

Once we got there, we stood side by side, staring out at the water with even the ducks sleeping at our feet, and I turned to Logan. “Do you think we’ll be the last two virgins in Darcy?”

Logan looked at me, startled. “Do you want to lose it?”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

He nodded. “But only to you.”

“Crap.” I raise my eyes from the page. “I forgot that this entry spills past my family issues and goes into details of us...” My hormones are dancing again, and I cross my legs together tightly.

“That’s okay. I want to hear about another year in the life of Austen Macey Henwood.” Logan’s tone may be light, but the intensity of his statement hangs heavy in the bar air.

I scrape my nail along the cement floor of the jail cell and don’t answer him for over a minute.

When I finally look up, he’s watching me.

I whisper, “You know what this part is going to be about, and…”

You’re pretty much the undisputed star of the rest of the entry.

Logan’s hand touches my knee again. “I want to hear what was in your head,” he says.

“Okay.” And I keep going…

My face burned, and I tried to walk away, but Logan caught me by the arm and turned me toward him.

“What do you think?” he asked.

I looked at him, about to cry for some reason. And then, I did start to cry, and I couldn’t stop. And Logan put his arms around me and kissed the salty tears off my cheek.

I pulled my head back to look at him, to look deep into his eyes. I leaned forward until I could kiss him gently on the mouth. He put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me closer until I didn’t remember anything about house liens and liquor licenses. All I remembered was Logan’s lips on mine, insistently kissing me until I opened up and let his tongue inside.

I dragged my head back from his. “Only if we make a pact,” I said in an almost desperate voice.

“A pact? You mean like a no commitment pact?” He nodded. “I like that idea. That way we can go right back to being friends after.”

“Exactly. No strings, no attachments, no pressure. No dates, no beds, and no commitment. Ever.”

He stared at me. “Seriously? I’m on board with the no strings and no commitment. I don’t want that kind of stress either. But what does ‘ever’ mean?”

“Forever.” I shrugged. “We never get married—to each other or to anybody else.”

“Why no one else, Mace?” His eyes danced with amusement like he knew.

I went silent for a moment.

Because I want to keep you for myself, and casual is all I can ever handle. Casual is all I ever deserve.

“Wait. Stop for a second.” Logan puts his hand on my thigh. “That’s not what you said to me then.”

“I know. I said this, ‘Because you and I aren’t made for marriage, Logan. We’re free spirits, and we have to make sure we don’t get trapped. So if