Laughter in the Rain, page 9
“How could you possibly know?”
“Because you got me the same perfume for my birthday last year.” Deftly she removed the wrapping paper and held up the small bottle of expensive French fragrance.
“I like the way it smells on you,” Logan murmured, walking across the room. He rested his hands on her shoulders. “And if I’m so predictable, you’ll also recall that there’s a certain thank-you I expect.”
Any resistance drained from her as Logan pulled her into his embrace. Abby slid her arms around his neck and tasted the sweetness of his kiss. A wonderful languor stole through her limbs as his mouth brushed the sweeping curve of her lashes and burned a trail down her cheek to her ear.
“I love you, Logan,” Abby whispered with all the intensity in her.
Logan went utterly still. Gradually he raised his head so he could study her. Unflinching, Abby met his gaze, determined that he see for himself what her eyes and heart were saying.
“If you love me, then you’ll stop seeing Tate,” he said flatly.
“And if you love me, you’ll trust me.”
“Abby.” Logan dropped his hands and stepped away. “I—”
“Oh Logan.” Glenna Carpenter moved out of the kitchen. “I’m glad to see you’re still here. We insist you stay for dinner. Isn’t that right, Abby?”
Logan held her gaze with mesmerizing simplicity.
“Of course we do. If you don’t have another appointment,” Abby said meaningfully.
“You know I don’t.”
Abby knew nothing of the kind, but didn’t want to argue. “Did you see the gift Logan brought me?” Abby asked her mother and held out the perfume.
“Logan is always so thoughtful.”
“Yes, he is,” Abby agreed, and slipped an arm around his waist, enjoying the feel of him at her side. “Thoughtful, but not very original.” Her eyes smiled into his, pleading with him that, for tonight, they could forget their differences.
Logan’s arms slid just as easily around her. “But with that kind of thank-you, what incentive do I have for shopping around?”
Abby laughed and led the way to the back patio.
Frank Carpenter, Abby’s father, was busy standing in front of the barbecue, basting chicken.
“Logan,” he exclaimed, and held out a welcoming hand. “This is a pleasant surprise. Good to see you.”
Logan and her father had always gotten along and had several interests in common. For a time that had irked Abby. Defiantly, she’d wanted to make it clear that she wouldn’t marry a man solely because her parents thought highly of him. Her childish attitude had changed dramatically in these past weeks.
Abby’s mother brought another place setting from the kitchen to add to the three already on the picnic table. Abby made several more trips into the kitchen to carry out the salad, toasted bread, and a glass of wine for Logan.
Absently, Logan accepted the glass from her and smiled, deep in conversation with her father. Happiness washed over Abby as she munched on a potato chip. Looking at the two of them now—Abby busy helping her mother and Logan chatting easily with her father—she figured there was little to distinguish them as unmarried.
Dinner and the time that followed were cheerful. Frank suggested a game of cards while they were eating birthday cake and ice cream. But Abby’s mother immediately rejected the idea.
“I think Glenna’s trying to tell me to keep my mouth shut because it’s obvious you two want some time alone,” Abby’s father complained.
“I’m saying no such thing,” Glenna denied instantly as an embarrassed flush brightened her cheeks. “We were young once, Frank.”
“Once!” Frank scolded. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not exactly ready for the grave.”
“We’ll play cards another time,” Logan promised, ending a friendly argument between her parents.
“Double-deck pinochle,” Frank prompted. “Best card game there is.”
Glenna pretended to agree but rolled her eyes dramatically when Frank wasn’t looking.
“Shall we?” Logan successfully contained a smile and held out his open palm to Abby. She placed her hand in his, more content than she could ever remember being. After their farewells to her parents, Logan followed her back to her apartment, parking his car beside hers. He took a seat while Abby hurried into the next room.
“Give me a minute to freshen up,” Abby called out as she ran a brush through her hair and studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She looked happy. The sparkle was back in her eyes.
She dabbed some of the perfume Logan had given her to the pulse points at her throat and wrists. Maybe this would garner even more of a reaction. He wasn’t one to display a lot of emotion, but he seemed to be coming along nicely in that area. His kisses had produced an overwhelming physical response in Abby, and she was aware that his feelings for her ran deep and strong. It had been only a matter of weeks ago that she’d wondered why he bothered to kiss her at all.
“I suppose you’re going to suggest we drive to Des Moines and back,” Logan teased when she joined him a few minutes later.
“Logan!” she cried, feigning excitement. “That’s a wonderful idea.”
He rolled his eyes and laid the paper on the sofa. “How about a movie instead?”
Abby gave a fake groan. “So predictable.”
“I’ve been wanting to see this one.” He pointed at an ad for the movie she’d seen with Tate.
“I’ve already been,” Abby tossed back, not thinking.
“When?”
Abby could feel the hostility exuding from Logan. He knew. Without a word he’d guessed that Abby had been to the movie with Tate.
“Not long ago.” She tried desperately to put the evening back on an even keel. “But I’d see it again. The film’s great.”
The air between them became heavy and oppressive.
“Forget the movie,” Logan said, and neatly folded the paper. He straightened and stalked to the far side of the room. “In fact, why don’t we forget everything.”
Hands clenched angrily at her sides, Abby squared her shoulders. “If you ruin my birthday, Logan Fletcher, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you.”
His expression was cold and unreadable. “Yes, but there’s always Tate.”
A hysterical sob rose in her throat, but Abby managed to choke it off. “I…I told you tonight that I loved you.” Her voice wobbled treacherously as her eyes pleaded with his. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Anything at all?”
Logan’s gaze raked her from head to foot. “Only that you don’t know the meaning of the word. You want both Tate and me, Abby. But you can’t decide between us so you’d prefer to keep us both dangling until you make up your mind.” His voice gained volume with each word. “But I won’t play that game.”
Abby breathed in sharply as a fiery anger burned in her cheeks. Once she would have ranted, cried, and hurled her own accusations. Now she stood, stunned and disbelieving. “If you honestly believe that, then there’s nothing left to say.” Her voice was calmer than she dared hope. Life seemed filled with ironies all of a sudden. Outwardly she presented a clearheaded composure while on the inside she felt a fiery pain. Perhaps for the first time in her life she was acting completely selflessly, and this was her reward—losing Logan.
Without another word, Logan walked across the room and out the front door.
Abby watched him leave with a sense of unreality. This couldn’t be happening to her. Not on her birthday. Last year Logan had taken her to dinner at a restaurant inside the Sheraton Hotel and given her—what else?—perfume. A hysterical bubble of laughter slipped from her. He was predictable, but so loving and caring. She remembered how they’d danced until midnight and gone for a stroll in the moonlight. Only a year ago, Logan had made her birthday the most perfect day of her life. But this year he was ruining it.
Angry, hurt, and agitated, Abby paced the living room carpet until she thought she’d go mad. Dano had wandered into the living room when she and Logan came in, but had disappeared into her bedroom once he sensed tension. Figured. Not even her cat was interested in comforting her. Usually when she was upset she’d ride her bike or do something physical. But bike riding at night could be dangerous, so she’d go running instead. She changed into old jeans and a faded sweatshirt that had a picture of a Disneyland castle on the front. She had trouble locating her second tennis shoe, then threw it aside in disgust when the rainbow-colored lace snapped in two.
She sighed. Nothing had gone right today. Tate had been disappointed that she wasn’t able to meet him. Because of that, she’d been fighting off a case of guilt when she went to her parents’. Then Logan had shown up, and everything had steadily and rapidly gone downhill.
Ripping a lace from one of her baseball shoes, Abby had to wrap it around the sole of the shoe several times. On her way out the door, she paused and returned to the bathroom. If she was going to go running, then she’d do it smelling better than any other runner in Minneapolis history. She’d dabbed perfume on every exposed part of her body when she stepped out the door.
A light drizzle had begun to fall. Terrific. A fitting end to a rotten day.
The first block was a killer. She couldn’t be that much out of shape, could she? She rode her bike a lot. And wasn’t her running speed the best on the team?
The second block, Abby forced her mind off how out of breath she was becoming. Logan’s buying her perfume made her chuckle. Predictable. Reliable. Confident. They were all words that adequately described Logan. But so were unreasonable and stubborn—traits she’d seen only recently.
The drizzle was followed by a cloudburst and Abby’s hair and clothes were plastered against her in the swirling wind and rain. She shouldn’t be laughing. But she did anyway as she raced back to her apartment. It was either laugh or cry, and laughing seemed to come naturally. Laughing made her feel better than succumbing to tears.
By the time Abby returned to her building, she was drenched and shivering. With her chin tucked under and her arms folded around her middle, she fought off the chill and hurried across the parking lot. She was almost at her building door when she realized she didn’t have the keys. She’d locked herself out!
What more could go wrong? she wondered. Maybe the superintendent was home. She stepped out in the rain to see if the lights were on in his apartment, which was situated above hers. His place was dark. Of course. That was how everything else was going.
Cupping one hand over her mouth while the other held her stomach, Abby’s laughter was mixed with sobs of anger and frustration.
“Abby?” Logan’s urgent voice came from the street. Hurriedly he crossed it, took one look at her, and hauled her into his arms.
“Logan, I’ll get you wet,” she cried, trying to push herself free.
“What happened? Are you all right?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know,” she murmured, sniffling miserably. “What are you doing here?”
Logan brought her out of the rain and stood with his back blocking the wind, trying to protect her from the storm. “Let’s get you inside and dry and I’ll explain.”
“Why?” she asked, and wrung the water from the hem of her sweatshirt. “So you can hurl insults at me?”
“No,” he said vehemently. “I’ve been half-crazy wondering where you were.”
“I’ll just bet,” Abby taunted unmercifully. “I’m surprised you didn’t assume I was with Tate.”
A grimace tightened his jaw, and Abby knew she’d hit her mark. “Are you going to be difficult or are we going inside to talk this out reasonably?”
“We can’t go inside,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because I forgot my keys.”
“Oh Abby.” Logan groaned.
“And the manager’s gone. Do you have any more bright ideas?”
“Did you leave the bedroom window open?” he asked with marked patience.
“Yes, just a little, but—” A glimmer of an idea sparked, and she smiled boldly at Logan. “Follow me.”
“Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to like this?” he asked under his breath as Abby pulled him by the hand around to the back of the building.
“Here,” she said, bending her knee and lacing her fingers together to give him a boost upward to the slightly open window.
“You don’t expect to launch me through there, do you?” Logan glared at her. “I won’t fit.”
Rivulets of rain trickled down the back of Abby’s neck. “Well, I can’t do it. You know I’m afraid of heights.”
“Abby, the window’s barely five feet off the ground.”
“I’m standing here, drenched and miserable,” she said, waving her hands wildly. “On my birthday, no less,” she added sarcastically, “and you don’t want to rescue me.”
“I’m not in the hero business,” Logan muttered as he hunched his shoulders to ward off the rain. “Try Tate.”
“Fine, I’ll do that.” She stalked off to the side of the building.
“Abby?” He sounded unsure as she dragged over an aluminum garbage can.
“Go away!” she shouted. “I don’t need you.”
“What’s the difference between going through the window using a garbage can or having me lift you through?”
“Plenty.” She wasn’t sure what, but she didn’t want to take the time to figure it out. All she wanted was a hot bath and ten gallons of hot chocolate.
“You’re being totally irrational.”
“I’ve always been irrational. It’s never bothered you before.” Her voice trembled as she balanced her weight on the lid of the garbage can. She reached the window and had pushed it open enough to crawl through when she felt the garbage can’s lid give way. “Logan!” she screamed, terror gripping her as she started to fall.
Instantly he was there. His arms gripped her waist as she tumbled off the aluminum container. Together they went crashing to the ground, Logan twisting so he took the worst of the fall.
“Are you okay?” he asked frantically, straightening and brushing the hair from her face.
Abby was too stunned and breathless to speak, so she just nodded.
“Now listen,” he whispered angrily. “I’m going to lift you up to the windowsill and that’s final. Do you understand?”
She nodded again.
“I’ve had enough of this arguing. I’m cold and wet and I want to get inside and talk some reason into you.” He stood and wiped the mud from his hands, then helped her up. Taking the position she had earlier, he crouched and let her use his knee as a step as his laced fingers boosted her to the level of the window.
Abby fell into the bedroom with a loud thud, knocking the lamp off her nightstand. Dano howled in terror and dashed under the bed.
“Are you okay?” Logan yelled from outside.
Abby stuck her head out the window. “Fine. Come around to the front and I’ll let you in.”
“I’ll meet you at your door.”
“Logan.” She leaned forward and smiled at him provocatively. “You are my hero.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Sure. Whatever you say.”
Abby buzzed open the front door and unlocked her apartment door for Logan. His wet hair was dripping water down his face, and his shirt was plastered to his chest, revealing a lean, muscular strength. He looked as drenched and miserable as she felt.
“You take a shower while I drive home and change out of these.” He looked down ruefully at his mud-spattered beige pants and rain-soaked shirt.
Abby agreed. Logan had turned and was halfway out the door when Abby called him back. “Why are you here?” she asked, wanting to delay his leaving.
He shrugged and gave her that warm, lazy smile she loved. “I don’t know. I thought there might be another movie you wanted to see.”
Abby laughed and blew him a kiss. “I’m sure there is.”
When Logan returned forty minutes later, Abby’s hair was washed and blown dry and hung in a long French braid down the middle of her back. She’d changed into a multicolored bulky sweater and jeans.
Abby smiled. “We’re not going to fight, are we?”
“I certainly hope not!” he exclaimed. “I don’t think I can take much more of this. When I left here the first time I was thinking…” He paused and scratched his head. “I was actually entertaining the thought of driving to Des Moines and back.”
“That’s crazy.” Abby tried unsuccessfully to hide her giggles.
“You’re telling me?” He sat on the sofa and held out his arm to her, silently inviting her to join him.
Abby settled on the sofa, her head resting on his chest while his hand caressed her shoulder.
“Do you recall how uncomplicated our lives were just a few weeks ago?” Logan asked her.
“Dull. Ordinary.”
“What changed all that?”
Abby was hesitant to bring Tate’s name into the conversation. “Life, I guess,” she answered vaguely. “I know you may misunderstand this,” she added in a husky murmur, “but I don’t want to go back to the way our relationship was then.” He hadn’t told her he loved her and she hadn’t recognized the depth of her own feelings.
He didn’t move. “No, I don’t suppose you would.”
Abby repositioned her head and placed the palm of her hand on his jaw, turning his face so she could study him. Their eyes met. The hard, uncompromising look in his dark eyes disturbed her. She desperately wanted to assure him of her love. But she’d realized after the first time that words were inadequate. She shifted and slid her hands over his chest to pause at his shoulders.
The brilliance of his eyes searched her face. “Abby.” He groaned her name as he fiercely claimed her lips. His hand found its way to the nape of her neck, his fingers gently pulling dark strands free from the braid so he could twine them through his fingers.
