Page 65 of More Than Meets the Eye

“’Cause I will, if he got out of line with you.”

“He didn’t,” she assured him. “Just bruised my heart, is all. I suspect it’ll heal eventually.”

“Well, if it don’t, my offer stands.”

She grinned and nudged him with her shoulder. “Thanks.”

Oh, Zach. Tough, curmudgeonly, wonderful Zach. God had blessed her well when he placed her in Zach’s path. But what would happen when Logan carried out his plans? Her smile cratered. Zach might appear rugged and imperturbable on the surface, but deep wounds plagued him on the inside, wounds that would be reopened and prodded none-too-gently when Logan leveled his accusations.

She had to warn him, prepare him for what was coming. “Zach, there’s something you should know.”

A sour taste filled her mouth. Ignore it. Your loyalty belongs to family, not to handsome, kind, heroic neighbors with hidden agendas.

Kind. Heroic. Logan was those things. In the heat of their argument, she had forgotten the good he had done. The way he stood up for her when the town looked down their noses. The way he rescued Christie—continued rescuing her, as a matter of fact. He’d taken on the task of finding her attacker singlehandedly. A task that had nothing to do with his revenge plot and everything to do with his innate sense of justice.

“Evie?” Zach’s voice interrupted her mental pretzel-making.

She cleared her throat and set her shoulders in a militant line. “It’s about Logan. And the real reason he came here.”

Zach looked at her expectantly.

Evangeline sucked in a quick, shallow breath and spilled what she knew. “His last name is Fowler. You won this land off his father in a poker game, and he intends to force you into a new game with him so he can win it back.”

The color drained from Zach’s face, and he staggered sideways. His arms came uncrossed, as if they no longer possessed the will to hold themselves together.

“Zach?” Alarmed, Evangeline reached for him. She clasped his arm, but his flat expression didn’t flicker. It was as if he hadn’t even registered her touch.

“He said you cheated, but I told him you would never do such a thing,” Evangeline said, trying to convince her brother that she believed in him and not in Logan’s wild tale. “You’re honest and hardworking. Dependable and honorable. It was his father who was in the wrong. He wagered something he couldn’t afford to lose, then blamed someone else for his loss and cried foul when it was too late. I know that. But Logan kept insisting otherwise. Telling me I was naïve.”

“You are,” Zach croaked, finally looking at her.

She flinched. Her heart thumped in slow, hard beats. “What?”

“Naïve,” he said. A muscle in his jaw ticked. “And I did everything in my power to keep you that way. To protect you from the ugly side of life.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the motion strangely exaggerated. “You’d lost enough. You didn’t need to lose your innocence as well, your gift for seeing the best in people.” He paused, a thickness entering his voice. “For seeing the best in me.”

“What . . .” The word emerged as barely more than a whisper. She lifted a hand to her throat and tried again. “What are you saying?”

Color rushed back into Zach’s face. Red, angry color. He drew himself up to his full height and glowered at her. Belligerent. Defiant. “I’m saying Logan’s right. I cheated. Cheated brilliantly, as a matter of fact. Beat the cardsharp at his own game.”

Evangeline shook her head, unable to believe what he was saying. Yet her action only seemed to fuel his determination to shatter her stubborn illusions.

“All your clamor about being a woman grown and not wanting to be sheltered—well, here’s some unsheltered reality for you. Life stinks. It’s hard. It’s not fair. And if you want to survive, you gotta grab whatever you can and not look back.

“I worked, yes,” he said, “but I stole, too. Stole, cheated, fought—whatever it took to fill your bellies and keep a roof over your heads. So yes, when I saw a chance to get a real house and acreage that could support us for the long term, I snatched it.” He thrust his arm in front of him and grabbed at the air with a fist. “And what’s more,” he declared, “I don’t regret it. Not any of it.”

Zach stormed off, and Evangeline reached for the nearest pecan tree to steady herself.

Dear Lord. It was true. All of it. Every horrid detail.

Except that last bit. Her brother might claim to have no regrets over his actions, but the agony in his tortured gaze proved otherwise.

27

Logan urged Shamgar to greater speed, blurring past the cutoff that would have taken him home. The last place he wanted to be was at his cabin, where every room reminded him of her.

Why did she have to be so stubborn? So closed-minded? Did the time they’d spent together mean nothing to her? He’d told he loved her. Did she think those words came cheap? They’d been wrenched from his heart. He’d exposed his soft underbelly, and she’d kicked him. Called him a liar. A thief. Accused him of seeking revenge when what he sought was justice. Demanded he abandon his quest to heal his mother’s pain without even considering the role her brother had played in the wounding.

Shamgar’s hooves pounded the road with the same force that Logan’s anger pounded through his veins. Harder. Faster. He leaned over his mount’s neck and raced, sensing that if he allowed his pace to slow, the pain would catch him from behind.