“Don’t start,” I say to him.
“A journalist isn’t that different from a bartender,” he continues. “We see things. Things the average person may miss.”
“Skip…”
“And what I saw over there,” he continues, “was that Mr. Darcy was a heck of a lot more interested interacting with hisex-wife than his future one. Seemed like a much more stimulating time for him, if you catch my meaning. In fact, I’m wondering why Mr. Darcy would get involved with another woman if…”
“I swear to God, Skip, if you don’t stop right now, I won’t let you back in here,” I say.
He takes the hint, but he doesn’t leave either. He sits right where he is, looking more confident than ever that The Cowherd Whiskey Saloon is the perfect place for him to learn everything he needs to know about the truth in Darcy, Texas.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Logan
“Don’t blow this,” Gigi whispers into my ear as she pretends to be all lovey-dovey at the booth. “Remember that people are always watching. I know Macey does it for you, but…”
Hell, truthfully, Macey’s the only one who’s ever done it for me. I dated other girls and tried to put Macey in my rearview so many times.
It just never worked.
“Okay, Logan?” Gigi says quietly. “Keep it together.”
“Got it,” I murmur. “Now let me go so I can talk to Blake and make sure he shuts his big mouth.”
I exit the booth and tilt my head at Blake to follow me.
Within minutes, the two of us are on the front porch of The Cowherd, Blake with a drink still in his hand.
I stare up at the sky, half-wishing I could disappear into the galaxy right about now. Just long enough until this whole mess is over.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on with you?” Blake takes a big swig of his beer and places it on the wooden porch railing.
“Just processing my upcoming wedding,” I say. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“Yeah, it is. Especially when you’re about to marry a girl you don’t love.”
I don’t even bother to refute him. “You don’t understand.”
“So enlighten me.” His jaw hardens. “I never took you for the kind of guy who marries for money.”
The kind of guy who marries for money.
I lose it. All this time I’ve been holding it together, keeping the truth from everyone I love. And I’m tired. I’m also buzzing from the alcohol, and my ability to think rationally is pretty much shot.
So I take out my frustrations on the one guy who’s calling me out on the biggest lie of my life. The lie that I want to marry someone not named Macey Henwood.
I jump on Blake so fast he’s not expecting it. I shove him up against the railing, but we both lose our balance when the rickety wood shifts. The two of us go flying down the three steps and onto the grassy front lawn of the bar.
We roll around the grass, each trying to get a hit in.
“You’re an ass for even intimating that I’d use somebody for money,” I snap as I dig my shoulder into his chest. “Don’t butt in where you don’t belong.”
Blake’s always been quick, and he turns abruptly, pinning me beneath him. Breathing heavily, he says, “I don’t like seeing you doing something I know is all fucking wrong for you. And you fucking know it, too. And the fact is, I don’t actually think you’re marrying Gigi for money, but I can’t get you to crack, Wild. So are you going to tell me why you’re really doing this?”
I open my mouth to confess, but movement on the porch gets my attention. I glance past Blake to the sight of Macey, Jamie, and Ben stepping out of The Cowherd. Ben hustles down the steps and grabs Blake by the back of the shirt.
“Get up, you two idiots,” he says.
