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“All I’m saying is that I would’ve preferred to have red velvet at our wedding, but knowing how much you love carrot cake, Albert, I let you have what you wanted. Learning that marriage is a compromise starts with planning the wedding.” Grandma turned her blue gaze to Logan. “What’s your favorite kind of cake?”
He didn’t miss a beat as he set the tray on the coffee table. “I reserve the right to answer that after I’ve tasted all the choices.”
Grandpa let out a soft snort. “Smart boy.”
“I remember back when Albert first began courting me…”
As the coffee was served and they sipped from their cups, her grandma became lost in the past. She told the story of how she and Grandpa met at a dance as if it had happened yesterday. Joy cherished hearing the memories, but still felt tears well in her eyes when she saw the hint of sadness in her grandfather’s face. He knew he was losing a little more of his wife each day.
She tried to blink the moisture away before the tears fell.
Logan shifted on the couch next to her and put his arm around her shoulders to pull her close to his side. “You okay?” he whispered near her ear.
A nod was the best she could manage as emotions for her grandma swirled with the sensation of being comforted by him. How had she ever thought him an insensitive jerk? The man hid a heart of gold behind all those muscles in his chest.
“The best was when he sang to me on our wedding day,” Gram said. “‘Brown Eyed Girl,’ only you changed the lyrics. Do you remember?”
“I remember,” he whispered. “My blue-eyed girl.”
Joy stared at the two of them in surprise. “Grandpa, I didn’t know you could sing.”
“He has a beautiful voice.”
“Ach,” he scoffed with a wave of his hand, his voice gruff as he smiled sheepishly. “I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“I do, too,” Gram argued indignantly. In the next moment, she gave him a pleading look. “Sing to me, Albert. Like you did back then.”
“Not now, June Bug.”
“Please?”
Judging by the panic on her grandpa’s face, he needed rescuing.
“Logan sings, Grandma. And he plays the guitar. Maybe he could play something for you sometime.”
A slight stiffening at the beginning of her sentence should’ve warned her. Logan’s all out retreat and the removal of his arm by the time she finished speaking told her she should’ve found a different subject to distract her grandmother.
Chapter 8
‡
Dread engulfed Logan as June focused her blue gaze on him.
“Oh, that sounds wonderful.”
He’d never sung for anyone in his life. What Joy heard the other day in his barn didn’t count because he hadn’t known she was there. The guitar, the singing, the writing…it was something he hadn’t shared with anyone. Not even his dad. It was personal and private, and she had no business telling anyone about what she’d heard.
How the hell was he supposed to say no to June when she asked with such excitement in her voice?
Anxiety clawed at his gut. How the hell could he say yes?
Silence reigned for a few heartbeats before he managed to say, “I’m really sorry, June, but I left my guitar in Nashville.”
“Oh.” She sounded like a child whose puppy had been taken away.
Guilt piled on, but this time, Al came to his rescue as he patted her knee. “Leave the boy be, June Bug. It’s getting late anyway, and we have to be up early to go pick up Sweet Pea’s new bed tomorrow.”
“Oh, that’s right.” She jumped up as if the couch was spring loaded. “Bev Donovan called earlier, and I can’t wait to see it. Goodnight you two. Don’t stay up too late.”
