She stood unmoving, the horse now swinging in her grip. Her bright blue eyes watched him suspiciously.
“I’m Logan. I’m—”
“Daddy’s friend.” Her demeanor softened a bit, but the grip on her horse tightened. She kicked at the porch, showcasing an adorable pair of purple cowgirl boots. If only he’d given up the rodeo when Abbie wanted him to, maybe they’d have a little one of their own.
He stepped up onto the porch, but before he could dwell on it too much, the front door burst open and Cliff spilled onto the porch. “Hey, man!” Two strong arms wrapped around Logan and squeezed. Cliff clapped him on the back so hard he nearly coughed.
“Good to see you!” Cliff’s smile stretched across his face. No hint of animosity at his two-year absence, though Cliff had come out to Vegas last year to watch him compete for the title. “You catch up with Izzy?” He backed up and capped his hands on the little girl’s shoulders, ushering her forward.
“She’s growing like a weed.” Because Isabella was still warming up to him, squeezing that stuffed horse with her death grip and sinking back against her dad’s legs, he shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Come on in. Erin’s just finishing up in the kitchen. She made a pot roast.”
He followed, though reluctantly. Erin wasn’t from town. Cliff had found her in college and somehow convinced the city girl to move to Starlight and marry him. She’d grown awfully close to Abbie during the time he was around. Now, he wasn’t so sure she’d greet him with a smile. If anyone had tipped off Abbie, it was sure to be Erin.
“Let me take that.” Cliff yanked the duffle bag from him. “You’re staying in the room down the hall. First door on the left.”
The screen door slammed shut, and the knock of boots against the wall drew his attention. Isabella was apparently not allowed to wear them in the house. They sat piled in a corner near the door as she rushed by in a blur, horse still in tow, toward the kitchen.
He waited for a beat, not sure whether he wanted to follow. But he’d best face Erin now and get it over with.
“He’s here, he’s here!” Isabella announced.
No sense in standing idle now. He leaned a hand on the doorjamb, kicked off his boots, and bravely headed toward the kitchen. “Hey, Erin.”
Erin turned, wiped her hands on her apron, strands of her black hair escaping a bun. “Logan.” They stared at each other across the kitchen, her expression blank and unreadable. He considered taking his bag and leaving. The new hotel in town might still have something available, especially for one of the top bull riders.
“You have a beautiful daughter,” he said finally. He shoved his hands back in his pockets. “Can’t believe how much she’s grown since I last saw her.”
“Izzy, did you say hi to our guest?” A hint of a smile broke across her lips. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“Hi, I’m Isabella Bennington,” she said from the safety of her mother’s apron. One hand was wrapped around Erin’s leg. “But you can call me Izzy. This is Tux.” She lifted her horse.
“Hi, Izzy. I’m—”
“Logan Attwood. You ride bulls.”
“Yes, I do.” He flashed a smile to Izzy, winning a giggle. She skittered out of the kitchen. “Is this okay?” he asked Erin, suddenly feeling as if he had to know. “Me staying here?”
Erin folded her arms, taking a slow breath before replying. “I wasn’t thrilled at first,” she admitted. “But you’re Cliff’s best friend. If you stay at that hotel, you’ll get bombarded.” She dropped her hands at the sound of the oven timer and turned toward the stove. “Maybe you deserve it, considering that’s part of the price you pay for glory. But it wouldn’t sit right with Cliff, so it wouldn’t sit right with me, either.”
The roast’s aroma hit him smack in the face. He hadn’t stopped for anything to eat since this morning. Now he felt he could inhale the entire thing. “I do appreciate you putting me up.”
“You should know that Abbie lives in the guest cottage now.” She pulled the roast pan out and set it on the counter. A push on the oven door closed it. With a hand on her hip, she faced him. “You are to leave her alone, you hear?”
“Yes ma’am.”
His eyes traveled through the window above the sink to a small cottage out back. He remembered it well. He understood now why Cliff hadn’t offered it up to him this time, as he had all those years Logan spent traveling throughout the season. Before the breakup.
“Abbie’s my best friend.” She took a step closer and pointed a potholder at his nose. “I picked up the pieces once. I won’t do it again.”
“I’m starving!” Cliff bellowed, staggering into the kitchen and catching his wife up in his arms. He spun her around to face him and planted a quick kiss on her lips. “It smells wonderful.”
Erin left Logan with one last warning glare as she broke free of Cliff’s hold. She handed him a stack of plates and nodded toward the table in the window alcove. His eyes kept traveling out toward the cottage he’d called home for so long. Was Abbie there now? Did she know he was here, in town early? Surely Erin would’ve warned her.
At the fifth plate, he had only enough time to pause before he heard her voice. “Hey, Peanut!”
If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never forget that voice.
