LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter One

      Almost. Two syllables with so much promise and no damn reward. The most disappointing word in existence.

      Logan Slade stifled a grimace and spun the ring on his left hand with his thumb. The silver band glinted with each twist. He eyed the nervous movement, willing it to stop. It was an absentminded habit. One he’d almost managed to quit.

      His mouth twisted. Almost...

      “We’ll almost have snow,” the white-haired man at his side chided again. “Yes, siree. Just needs to be a few degrees colder. They’re predicting sleet tonight instead. Strange, huh? November ice in Georgia? Guess the angels left the fridge open.” He laughed.

      A shaft of frozen air abraded Logan’s forearms and he clutched the door of Hartford Insurance Agency’s lobby against the whipping wind. Crumpled leaves swept across the walkway outside in a violent flurry. Logan began to regret his impulse to jump up and assist the elderly man out. The chill pierced his skin but he kept his grip, willing the man to shrug into his coat a little faster.

      “My Pearl loved the snow,” the man mumbled. His jubilant expression melted away. “We almost had some here last Christmas.” Gnarled fingers struggled to fasten the top button at his neck.

      “Here. Let me.” Logan tucked his heel against the door and gingerly threaded the button through its hole.

      “Almost...” the man whispered, his gray eyes lifting.

      Logan stilled. It was impossible to count the regrets haunting the depths of his gaze. They pooled in the corners of his eyes, seeping into the crow’s-feet and coating his white lashes.

      Almost. Logan had almost not come today. Was no more than two thoughts away from calling the trip off when he finally twisted the key in the ignition and allowed his truck to haul him from his ranch.

      And, after arriving, he’d almost left. Empty-handed, but with a heart crammed full of a thousand more regrets than he already carried.

      Logan straightened, renewing his hold on the door. Almost be damned. He wasn’t leaving until he did what he’d come here to do. What he should’ve done a long time ago.

      He wasn’t leaving until he saw his wife. And he wasn’t leaving until she left with him.

      The man’s eyes still hovered on him. Logan summoned up a polite smile.

      “Thank you, son,” the elderly man said, shrugging further into his coat and edging out. “Yes, siree. Just a few degrees...”

      The arctic blast receded as the door closed and Logan returned to his chair by the exit. He pressed his palm against the thick fold of papers stuffed inside the pocket of his jeans. They cracked under the pressure of his touch, shooting chills through him.

      The massive grandfather clock in the corner sounded the five o’clock hour, doling out bellows and chimes. Each lilt of the bells pierced his ears and dropped into the hollow of his gut.

      “How much longer do we have to sit here?”

      Logan jerked his head to the side. The teenager beside him slumped further into a crumpled heap on the wide lobby chair. A thick hood obscured her face.

      “Please sit up, Traci,” he said.

      “This is stupid.” The hood shifted with her grumble. “Why can’t we wait at her apartment?”

      Logan shifted in his seat, heat spiking up his neck. “We’re in public.” He clenched his teeth, his knee bouncing with agitated jerks. “Sit up, please.”

      The hood dropped back. Emerald eyes flashed up at him. Eyes the same shade as those of her older sister, Amy. His wife.

      Logan snatched in a breath. Dear God, Traci reminded him of Amy. Made it impossible for him to forget how much he missed her or how much he’d failed her. As a husband and a friend.

      Amy had been his best friend long before she’d been his wife. That was how it should’ve remained. He’d never wanted to jeopardize their friendship by clouding it with lust. But that was exactly what he’d allowed to happen. When he found out she was pregnant, the only option he was willing to consider was marriage. And damned if that wasn’t exactly what Amy had planned on.

      “I can show you where her apartment is, you know?” Traci smiled. “It’s not that far. Only five or ten miles.”

      Logan ducked his head and dragged a hand through his hair, the searing heat engulfing his face. He didn’t need directions to Amy’s apartment. He’d memorized her address four years ago. One day after she left.

      He’d spent each morning counting the miles between them and each night adding more hours to her silent absence. The simple fact was, she’d never issued him an invitation to visit.

      Logan had known better than to expect it. Amy had always been stubborn. Still, he’d hoped time would work its magic. Help her heal and bring her around to reaching out to him.

      And she had finally reached out. But in a different way entirely.

      Logan’s fist clenched. His knuckles dug deep into the denim covering his thigh, driving a dent in the packet of papers filling his pocket. He wished he hadn’t signed for them. Wished he hadn’t taken the manila envelope from the mail carrier’s hands, opened it and read them. Wished this ice storm would’ve changed direction and missed Georgia altogether.

      Then, he wouldn’t have been forced to leave Raintree and make the six-hour drive to Augusta.

Скачать книгу