Free The Rancher's Wife by April Arrington Page A

pleasure.
    Amy’s gaze clung to him, following the movements of his throat and darting to his hand. He took another swig. Her eyebrows lowered into a glower.
    Logan’s belly warmed, sending a sweet thrill up his spine. She’d had the exact same expression the night of her nineteenth birthday. He’d given in to her badgering and had taken her up to the local pool hall to celebrate.
    She hadn’t been satisfied with flashing her ID at the door. Nope. She’d done her best to sweet talk him into going to the bar and getting her a beer. He’d brought her fried cheese sticks and a milk instead. She’d been beyond ticked.
    The warmth spread to his face and pulled at the corners of his mouth. He tipped the bottle up again, grinning as her frown darkened. It was good to see a little life in her.
    She jerked her chin. “Your daddy ever tell you it’s impolite not to share?”
    A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. The kind he hadn’t had in years. He let it loose, relishing the feel and sound of it.
    Her gaze wandered over his face to linger on his smile. Her lush mouth parted, the edges tipping up and her face lighting with pleasure. That was all it took.
    Before he knew it, he was leaning over, savoring the curves of her lips under his. The sweet flavor of her mingled with the crisp coolness of the beer on his tongue.
    She tasted the same. Warm and comforting. Like his own personal sun in the middle of winter. She tasted like home.
    It didn’t last. She pulled away, squaring her shoulders and stepping back.
    â€œThis can’t happen, Logan,” she whispered.
    â€œWhy not?” He straightened, setting the beer back on the porch rail. “You’re still my wife.”
    â€œI haven’t been that for a long time. And I wouldn’t have been in the first place if you’d had a choice.”
    â€œThat’s not true—”
    â€œIt’s not?” She leaned forward. “You mean if I hadn’t lied to you and gotten pregnant, you would’ve chosen to marry me?”
    He hesitated, scrambling for the right words. The ones he’d chosen so carefully on the drive to bring her home.
    â€œYou’ve never lied to me, Logan. Please don’t start now,” she stated softly. “Would you have married me back then if you’d had a choice?”
    Not then. Not at such a young age. And not before they’d had a chance to experience life beyond the ranch.
    His jaw clamped shut. He couldn’t say that out loud. Not now. Not when she looked so vulnerable. So hopeful.
    â€œWould you have given in to me to begin with if I hadn’t trailed you so hard? If I hadn’t pushed so much?” she pressed, her voice catching.
    No. He wouldn’t have.
    She sighed and looked away. “We grew up together. We were friends. I should’ve left it at that.”
    That cool mask returned. It settled over her features like a glaze of ice, freezing out all emotion in her expression.
    â€œYou were right,” she said, knuckles turning white from her grip on the porch rail. “I was naïve and foolish. It was nothing but misguided hero worship.”
    Logan flinched, an unexpected pain spearing his chest. He’d spent so much time in the past trying to reason the idea with her. Trying to get her to understand what she felt for him was nothing more than a crush. That, at four years her senior, he was easy to look up to and become infatuated with.
    But, as she’d grown, he’d had to work harder at talking himself into believing it, too. And on that ride home from the pool hall the night of her nineteenth birthday, she’d turned to him, put her hands on him and touched that beautiful mouth of hers to his.
    And, heaven help him, he’d given in. Over and over again during the next two months. Helpless to put a stop to it. Not even wanting to.
    She’d sent his self-control up in flames more times than he cared to