cousin would kill him. Better not to risk it. Liar . “And put her clothes back on. You have no business—”
“Yes, sir. Let’s get back at it.”
“And, Logan, we are not putting in a pole.”
“It’d be good for business, unless you’re thinking of a more private location.”
“I ought to slap you, but then Grandma’d slap me at dinner tomorrow.”
“What can I say, she likes me best.”
“Then why is my handsome face on more pictures in her house?”
He slugged him in the arm, and Logan returned the favor. After a few punches and another cookie, they got down to serious work.
Fortunately, Logan hauled in most of the cut laminate, and he had a backup assistant he could call in if they failed to finish the floor today. They might not. He and walking weren’t on good terms this week. A dull ache in his leg nagged at him, and a blister had formed where flesh met plastic. Installing the floor after his Tuesday fitting appointment at the VA hospital would have been preferable, but Gwen needed the floor. Her need drove him. That and the promise of ibuprofen and massage oil later.
He dropped to the floor. Damn . A noise escaped his mouth through gritted teeth.
“Are you going to be okay with this work, or should I call someone else to help, too?”
“I’ll be fine. Just let me get more comfortable.” He removed the transtibial prosthetic from his right leg. “I’ll be faster this way. This one doesn’t fit right.”
“Can I presume that she doesn’t know about your leg?”
“Who?”
“You know who. It’s so obvious. You should have seen your face earlier when I threatened to ask her out. You were like one of those old cartoons where the guy has steam shooting from his nose and ears. Kinda like you look now.”
“Enough.”
Logan joined him on the floor. “In all seriousness, I haven’t seen you look twice at a woman since your accident, until now. And she’s different around you than she is with me. I thought I was going to have to tell you two to get a room when she brushed that flour off your cheek earlier.”
Yeah, that had been nice. He couldn’t suppress his smile.
“See.”
“Fine.”
“So, go for it.”
He wished he could, but why risk the inevitable rejection?
“You should. Ladies love a war hero.” Logan winked.
They did not. Sure, plenty of women waxed poetic about a man in uniform, but the reality was different. When Brooke visited him in the hospital long after he’d begun to heal, she pulled back the covers and screamed. The horrible, shrill sound echoed long after she left the room. She returned six days later with divorce papers. She didn’t say anything other than, “You’re broken and gross.”
Not that their marriage had been a dream to begin with. Their marriage lacked some intangible quality. On the late-night bombing raids when Matt spoke of his wife, he realized what was missing—a sense of respect, sacrifice, and above all love. Before the injury, he suggested counseling to make the marriage work. But the cruelness of the end surprised him. He’d made peace with the divorce, understanding that he’d never loved her fully. Her parting words still haunted him. Each blow of the hammer locked the floor in place but couldn’t silence the voice in his head. “Broken. Useless. Gross. Damaged.”
All he had left were work and fantasies.
Chapter Five
With the storefront mostly ready to go and with the respectable cookie-delivery sales during final-exam week, Gwen decided to soft open her bakery in the days leading up to Christmas. As she reupholstered chairs, she kept the doors unlocked. Samples in the display case showed customers what they could order for delivery from her home until she received her county health permit. Although her parents, sister, and Kyle knew of her plans to soft open, signage and word of mouth comprised her only advertising. Why spend the money until the students arrived back in town?
During a