Chapter Ten

 

Logan knew he pushed the SUV over the limit now and then. He was late. By several hours. Never being in the situation before, he wasn’t sure how a wife dumped into a new house would react to a late husband. It amazed him how accustomed to those words he had become in three days time. His tie and jacket were laid over the passengers seat, his sleeves rolled to his elbows as he drove slowly down the winding drive to the Forest Wing.

First thing he noticed was the newly hung screen door. The inner door wide open, he nodded in approval. Not sure why they never bothered with screens before. Briefcase in one hand, with the computer bag dangling from his shoulder, Logan lifted the sunglasses, absently hooking them in his pocket as he entered the large living area.

The flooring looked like it was covered with bumpy grey cobwebs stretching from wall to wall. His eyes did a swift appraisal, landing on the rounded behind cloaked in a pair of knee length blue jean overalls. Almost six foot off the floor.

Barefooted, carefully wielding a two inch paint brush, Sam was bent a little as she dipped the brush to finish the edges of the area where the room met the hallway.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Somewhere in the back of his new husband mind that came out a lot worse then it was meant to and he winced in anticipation.

Sam sat back on the flat top of the step ladder she had borrowed from Mack. “Hmmm…now let me see what the clues are here…drop cloth…paint can…oh, don’t forget the paint brush…step ladder…”

She smiled that charming smile that turned his innards into mush.

“Okay, so it wasn’t my brightest question…we have people who are paid to do this, Sam,” Logan set his briefcase and computer on the brunch counter, careful where he put his feet.

“This is our place, Logan,” Sam shook her head, turning from him with a few final dabs. “Besides…I’m done…and it looks fantastic!” She put the top on the paint, tapped it with the end of the brush and carefully backed down the step ladder. She did a slow turn, her smile getting bigger. “Isn’t it grand?”

Logan felt the now familiar flare of awareness awaken and soar through him. It tightened his gut and sent flames coursing through his blood. It was more than simple desire, he realized with a jolt. Far more than just great sex. But somehow, he had known that from the beginning. Samantha Elliott was different.

The uncomfortable and new feeling that struck him to the core when he thought about her wasn’t about desire. Wasn’t even about anticipation. They were more than a couple, he realized starkly, they were connected. Somewhere in time and space, somehow the bond between them was different than anything he’d known before. And stronger than anything he’d ever know again.

“Logan?” Sam carried the paint brush past him, washing it in the sink and moving to stand next to him.

“Sorry…off…” He looked around, the brilliant sunlight from the skylights sending shards of daytime throughout the room, bouncing off the newly painted walls of pale gold. He smiled. His girl loved colors. “It’s good, Sam…really good,” then his eyes went to the woman at his side.

Blue jean overalls with straps covering a low neckline of a white tee shirt, hair pulled into a taut braid and a happiness in her eyes that he felt to his toes. He spread his knees, tugging gently for her to stand between them.

“I missed you,” his palms cupped her face, thumbs caressing over her mouth before his lips covered hers in a soft greeting kiss.

Sam fell against him, arms around his neck to hug him close. “I hope that means the honeymoon isn’t over,” she teased, their foreheads against one another.

“Not as long as I can draw breath,” he promised. “So what brought on the urge to paint?”

“Help me fold this…Mack said to just leave it on the back porch and he’d gather the things. I cleaned the rolling tray and the roller…” she moved aside to begin lifting the plastic covering. “I thought of it this morning while I was at my house…that this room needed some color. So I went to the hardware store and decided I liked this color. With the skylights, it really perks up the inside. And it’s much easier to paint before you get stuff in than later.” She already had plans to do an accent wall in the master bedroom a very rich burgundy. But that would be a surprise for another day.

Logan’s brain had stopped at the words, my house. Then he noticed the music around him, his head turning to find the source and landing on the opening to the second bedroom. He helped her gather the drop cloth, folding it and letting her take it to the porch. Logan peered into the second bedroom, the small desk set up with the full sized computer and printer, facing out toward the green belt. His Sam did like having a view when she did things. His Sam. He felt his lips twitch contentedly. Those words had a really good feel to them.

“I’ve got to change…I think I have paint on me…I swear, no matter how hard I try to be careful,” Sam looked over at the puzzled expression on Logan’s face. “Logan? I thought we could use that room as a home office. Mack went with me to rummage in the storage room and I brought those two desks over. If you want a different one, there are some others in there. I really liked that old one for me, though.”

“No…no, this is good…” Logan turned, snagging her palm and pulling her against him, wrapping her close and just holding her. He didn’t know what would come tomorrow, but he knew one way or another, he wasn’t going to lose her. “This is real good, Sam.”

She sighed and settled against him, her face resting on his chest. “Very real good. Oh…I invited my mother and father to dinner tomorrow. I checked with your grandparents and they said it was a great idea.” Sam winced when the hands came from around her and gripped her shoulders. She felt herself lifted and held at arms length. “I figured we’re even now,” she said with a wink, kissing him and twisting to turn and jog up the couple stairs to the loft.

Logan gaped after the departing woman. He shook his head, wondering what happened to the illusion that he was in control of his life. He pushed against the wall and dug into his pocket for his keys.

He managed to get the suitcases into the bedroom after a few trips. He had the large suitcase on the bed, hanging clothes or aiming for the basket Sam had put in the large bedroom for their laundry.

“Sounds like you had a busy morning,” Logan commented when she entered the bedroom, dressed in her jeans and tee shirt. He had emptied the suitcase, zipped it shut and tossed it onto a high shelf in the walk-in closet.

“I was driving here and just…decided to go to the address on my license,” Sam pulled her sandals from inside the closet and sunk to the floor. “Then I guess it just seemed to fit. I found my address book and went to visit them,” she smiled at the memory. “I think I was a very happy child, Logan…and I want all those memories back! My mother is…color! And…and vitality and life…and my father is warm and caring and I can tell by the looks he gives her, very much in love with my mother. I can’t wait for you to meet them.”

“Which one is the redhead?” Logan offered his hand, pulling her to her feet and walking with her down the stairs. Sam led them into the kitchen where boxes and bags lay waiting to be sorted.

“My mother…and they’re both tall so I guess I never had a choice about height,” Sam said logically.

“I kind of like you tall,” Logan commented, deciding that opening boxes and bags and just setting things on the counter was a safe job for him. He could organize multi-million dollar companies, but kitchens…scared the crap out of him.

Shortly before six, Sam headed to the main dining area, humming lightly as she entered. Logan was changing into jeans and would be right behind her, he promised. She was about to greet Millicent and Tom when someone she hadn’t met crossed the room to stand before her. Sam was about to offer her palm when the woman spoke first.

“I take it you’re the latest trollop my oldest son has brought home?” Emily Sheffield looked from the ground to the top of Sam’s head in disdain.

“Hmm..I guess I am…only this trollop he married,” Sam said with a little shrug, taken aback at this reaction but not in the mood to be shredded. “Which means if you cause havoc in our romance, half of all this is mine,” she confided with a low voice.

Unaccustomed to being spoken to like that, Emily straightened her shoulders and strode from the room, ignoring the chuckling from her mother and father.

“Very nicely handled, Samantha,” Millicent said with a nod.

Mark was frowning slightly as he passed his grandmother, looking at the adults at the dinner table. “What’s a trollop?”

“I think they’re fried,” Sam began in her most serious voice. “And are quite yummy with ketchup.”

“I think they come in a little shell,” Anya picked up the story, her palms together like scallop shells. “And you find them on the beach.”

By now, soft laughter was being shared by Ian and his grandparents. Logan looked from one to the other as he entered from speaking with Trinity. “Good evening,” he leaned over and kissed Sam. “You the trollop?”

“Hmm…I think so…”

“You found Sam on the beach in a shell, Uncle Logan?”

“Covered in the sand,” he answered in a low, mysterious voice. “Like buried treasure.”

“Wow…” Mark looked over at Sam and smiled.