Rock-A-Bye Bride

The culprit of that withering mass of anxiety was simple: undiluted fear of what he would say, of what would come next, if he’d prove he was a stand-up guy or run for the hills.

And Lord, had he proved the former.

Tightening her hold on her tea, Anna let the comforting warmth sink deep into her skin. She understood her aunt’s concerns...of course she did, but why couldn’t Lola see all the amazing qualities in Logan that she herself saw?

When she’d first told Lola the news, her aunt had said, “Sweetie, all those pregnancy hormones are frying your brain cells, making you believe that marrying this man is a good idea. But it flat-out isn’t. Neither of you has any shred of a clue as to what you’re really getting yourselves into. Stop and think before charging ahead.”

Well, she’d stopped, and yeah, she’d thought long and hard, but Anna hadn’t changed her mind. True enough, she was a good deal more emotional as of late. Commercials could make her cry at the drop of a hat, and the other morning, she’d broken down into semihysterical sobs when she realized she could no longer zip her favorite jeans. In cases such as those, yes, she blamed her out-of-whack hormones. But marrying Logan was an entirely different matter.

Whether it was instinct or women’s intuition or the voice of fate or all three, Anna didn’t know, but she was supposed to become his wife. And no, she wasn’t envisioning that they’d somehow beat the odds, fall in love and stay married. What she did believe, however, was that their marriage would create a lasting bond between them, so that as their child grew, they’d become better parents than they would’ve been otherwise.

It was intrinsic, this knowledge, as real to her as anything else she’d ever known.

Tomorrow, unless an act of God stopped her, she would become Logan’s wife. His partner and he, hers. Not forever, but for long enough.

How to explain this sensation of rightness properly to her aunt had thus far escaped Anna. Tired of the wait, of Lola’s seemingly endless stubbornness, she let out a long, vocal sigh and cleared her throat. Twice. In the hopes of grabbing her aunt’s attention.

“I can hear you just fine,” Lola said. “And I know what you want to talk about, but honey, we stand on opposite sides of this dilemma, and I finally understand that I’m not about to change your mind, and you’re not about to change mine. I’d rather not quarrel with you.”

“This isn’t a forever marriage, auntie,” Anna said, purposely using the term of endearment to remind Lola of their bond. “And I don’t want to fight, either, but can you please try to trust in me? It hurts that you’re not in my corner for something so important.”

“I am in your corner.” Lola looked up from her book, her bright red hair—courtesy of a bottle of hair dye—appearing almost cartoonish due to the glow of the lamp. “Always have been, always will be. But I’m allowed to have an opinion that differs from yours, and I think this is a mistake. I think you’re so wrapped up in the details, you can’t see the full picture.”

“We have spent a lot of time on the details,” Anna agreed, “but that’s because we do see the full picture and we don’t want anything to compromise the end goal. All of this is rather cut-and-dried. Most of our conversations could have taken place in a boardroom.”

Lola sniffed and gave her a point-blank stare. “Even when there’s love and the plan for a lifelong commitment, marriage is a ridiculous amount of hard work. You can write up all the rules and go over all the details you want, as I’m sure doing so makes both of you feel as if this is a controllable situation, but you do not know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Maybe we don’t, exactly. I’ll give you that. But we’re not going into this blind, either.” Anna returned her aunt’s stare. “I really need you to be my ally here. Not my...my debate opponent. I need you to trust that I know what’s best.”

“I am your ally.” Lola closed her book with a smack. “And I trust that you believe you’re doing the right thing. I’m worried that at some point, you’ll start to think there’s a future for you and Logan, and unless he happens to feel the same...you’ll be crushed.”

Oh. “I don’t see myself waking up one morning and forgetting what this arrangement is or why we made it in the first place.” Anna rubbed her stomach. “I can’t forget, now can I?”

“You won’t forget. But you might start to hope, and...” Lola’s words trailed off and she closed her eyes. Sighed and shook her head. “Do me this favor, please. Accept that the possibility is there, so you can at least be on the lookout for it.”

Good advice, even if Anna didn’t believe it was warranted. Attraction was one thing. She could keep her libido at bay. Hadn’t she done exactly that for close to two full years? Love, however, was another ball of wax, and she had zero intention of falling for Logan Daugherty.

Therefore, it was easy to assure her aunt by saying, “I will keep the possibility in mind.”

“Then I suppose you have my blessing, for what that’s worth, and I’ll do whatever is needed to help you succeed. Which I would’ve anyway,” she said with a small smile.

“Thank you, auntie,” Anna said as the pressure encasing her heart evaporated. “Having your support means the world to me. This is the right decision.”

“You’re welcome, and I suppose time will tell us that, won’t it?” Lola opened her book, but before returning to her reading, she said, “Just remember that you are never alone. You are never stuck. I’m not going anywhere, and this house will always be a safe haven.”

And there went Anna’s crazy hormones, filling her eyes with a bucketful of tears. “I won’t forget,” she said. “Promise. Do you think you can stop worrying so much now?”

“Hmm. Yes. And maybe we’ll win the lottery,” Lola said with dry humor. “Fact is, I never stop worrying. It’s the way of life when your heart belongs to a child, even when that child is all grown up. I expect you’ll discover that on your own soon enough.”

“I still can’t believe I’m going to be a mother,” Anna said. “I hope...well, I hope I can be the type of mother Mom was to us girls. The type of mother you were—are—to Laurel and me.”

Anna was too far away to be 100 percent positive, but her aunt’s eyes appeared shinier than normal. Lola lifted her book to hide her face. “You’ll be a wonderful mother,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll finish my book.”

“Okay, auntie. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

While her aunt pretended to read, Anna finished her tea. In one form or another, some of what her aunt worried about would likely come to fruition. Oh, not the bit about wanting the rules to change, but about not being wholly aware of what she was getting into.

Of course she wasn’t. But it wasn’t as if she had nothing to go on, either.

Two people, whether married or platonic roommates—and, she supposed, she and Logan would soon fall into both categories—couldn’t live together free of issue. Someone would finish off the milk without buying more, or he’d forget to take out the trash on collection day, or she’d accidentally ruin his favorite shirt in the wash, or one of them would just wake up grumpy.

The key was learning how to exist somewhat compatibly within the same walls even when a day or a week or a month went wonky. Anna had managed to live with her father, her sisters, her aunt and her ex-boyfriend, and she’d got along mostly okay.

And her ex? Jamie always drank all the milk without buying more, and he’d had a lot of grumpy mornings, and yes, she’d once ruined his favorite shirt in the laundry. But they’d figured it out, for a really long time. There wasn’t any reason to believe that she and Logan couldn’t do the same, especially with all they’d already discussed and agreed on.

With motherhood on the horizon, she had plenty to think about, worry over. Obsess about, possibly. But her relationship with Logan did not fall into any of those categories. Some leeway might be required as they adjusted to sharing a home and becoming parents, and understanding for the possible issues that might arise, on both of their parts, as they moved forward.

Overall, though, Anna was sure they’d be fine.

Chapter Three (#ulink_9efd37a8-2955-5d22-86a7-11c6495e1ebe)

Frustrated, Logan straightened his tie in front of the full-length mirror in an extra bedroom at Gavin and Haley’s farmhouse. After some discussion, Gavin had insisted that Logan and Anna have their wedding there. Since trying to plan a ceremony—even a small one—at the ranch had seemed impractical, Logan had agreed. It felt right, being married on land that was owned by family, even for a union that wouldn’t make it past the two-year mark.

What didn’t feel right was getting married without his mother’s presence. She’d called yesterday to cancel due to his grandfather’s so-called sudden bout of bronchitis. Wasn’t that sudden. The old man had been hacking for days, but he’d sworn up and down and sideways that what ailed him was nothing more than a head cold. Finally, a combination of extreme fatigue and chills had worn Zeke down, and he’d agreed to see the doctor.

Leaving her father in that condition, with her mother already requiring extra help, was an impossibility for Carla. And Logan got it. But not having her here resonated as a bad omen.

A ridiculous notion. If he was about to marry the woman he planned on spending the rest of his life with, that would be different. Then he’d have postponed for as long as necessary. In this situation, however, he did not want to delay so much as one additional day. Mostly because he kept waiting for Anna to back out of the entire ordeal.

Fortunately, she’d remained steadfast in her decision.

Logan glanced at his watch, and his heart nose-dived for his stomach. In less than an hour, he would have a wife. He would be a husband. And the real biggie: several months down the road, he’d have a son or a daughter. Surreal, on all accounts.

Other than his growing affection toward the prospect, the baby hadn’t yet become more than a hazy image in his mind. Try as he might, he couldn’t envision what life would become, how having a child would change him or his heart or how fatherhood would affect the day-to-day way of things. Oh, he had no question that he’d never be the same.

It was the specific details of those changes that escaped him.

“Looking good,” Gavin said, entering the room. He lightly punched Logan on the shoulder, his affable nature not quite enough to hide the worry lines around his eyes. “Now, I know I have little right to offer advice, seeing how we’re still relative newcomers to each other’s lives, but I feel compelled to ask one last time. You’re solid in this decision to marry Anna, correct? Because you can do right by your kid without a wedding.”

“Yup, I’m aware. Doesn’t hold any water in my book, but I’m aware,” Logan said, taken aback as he was every time he laid eyes on his half brother. The resemblance between Gavin and the Denny whom Logan had seen in those photographs was strong. Eerily so.

Whereas Logan and Gavin shared only one like feature: their eyes. The shade and the shape of his were identical to his half brother’s. In every other way, the two men looked nothing alike. Gavin was several inches taller than Logan’s height of six foot two and had lighter hair and the build of a quarterback. Or a lumberjack.

Logan’s skin was slightly darker from the Cordero side of his heritage, and while fit—you couldn’t work a ranch for most of your life and be anything but—no one on God’s green earth would compare him to a quarterback. Or, for that matter, a lumberjack.

That being said, they shared other similarities. They analyzed problems in the same manner, and their belief systems were almost identical. Hell, when Logan had told Gavin the truth behind this wedding, his half brother had admitted he would’ve done exactly the same.