Loree Lough - Devoted to Drew

He reached into his front seat and grabbed his suit coat. “First put this on.”

Tempting as it was to accept it, Bianca said, “No, thanks.” If she got dirt or grease on it, she couldn’t afford to have it cleaned.

But he draped it over her shoulders anyway. Using his chin as a pointer, Logan added, “You sure you know how to use those things?”

“These,” she said, “and every other tool in the shed. Except for the chainsaw.” Bianca cringed. “That thing gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Okay, then....” He got into his car and left the driver’s door ajar.

“Everything turned off?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Emergency brake on?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Bianca connected one red clamp to her battery’s positive terminal, attached the other to the positive terminal on Logan’s battery, then clipped the black clamp to the negative terminal of her battery and connected the second black clamp to an unpainted bolt on his engine block.

“Okay,” she said, “I’m going to start the Jeep.”

She stuck the key into the ignition and hesitated. He probably knew to let her car’s engine idle a minute or two before starting his. Bianca didn’t want to insult him, but she couldn’t afford the time or money to replace their batteries if he didn’t.

“You know not to start your car right way, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She couldn’t see him, thanks to the raised hoods, but if his agreeable tone of voice matched his expression, he hadn’t taken the question the wrong way.

Bianca fired up the Jeep, then hurried to the driver’s side of his car.

Sunshine lit his face, making him squint as he looked up at her. Bianca stepped aside so that her shadow would block it...but not before noticing the pale dots peppering his nose and cheeks. Freckles? At thirty-five?

“Think it’s safe to rev ’er up now?”

She nodded. “Just don’t give it too much gas, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

When his car started right up, she fist-pumped the air the way she did every time Drew reached a goal...and Logan’s jacket slipped from her shoulders and onto the dirty parking lot.

Retrieving it, she dusted it off. “See? I had a feeling something like that would happen.”

Out of the car now, he took it from her and gave it a once-over. “Clean as a whistle.”

But she could see the grit and grime that had stained the front pocket. Bianca felt duty-bound to do something about it.

“Just so happens there’s a stack of dry cleaning on my closet floor,” she said, reaching for it. “I’ll drop it off with the rest of my—”

He held tight. “I told you that it’s fine. But even if it wasn’t, I have an account with the best dry cleaner in town.” He shrugged. “Besides, you already have enough on your shoulders.”

Before she could ask what he meant, Logan said, “Can I get you to do me another favor?”

She caught herself staring. “A favor?”

“I don’t trust this old beast to fire up again when I need it to, so I was wondering if maybe you’ll let me buy you that cup of coffee now to thank you for the jump-start. And to keep you around awhile. For backup. In case this old clunker decides to play dead again when I get ready to hit the road.”

The mention of his dead battery reminded her that she hadn’t detached the cables. “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” she muttered. Silently, she ran down the step-by-step process: remove black clamp from his engine bolt, then black clamp from my battery. Now red clamp from my car and red clamp from his.

Once finished, she said, “It’s been so long since I did this that I wasn’t sure I’d remember the right order to do things.”

“Now she tells me,” he said to the cloudy sky.

In her rush to put everything back where it belonged in the Jeep, Bianca nearly dropped the cables.

Logan caught them. Caught her hands, too.

“You’re freezing,” he said. “Now you have to let me buy you a nice hot cup of coffee. The least I can do is warm you up after making you stand out here in the cold wind all this time. If you have time, that is, before picking Drew up at school.”

Bianca checked her watch. By her calculations she had hours and hours!

Logan’s lips slanted in a charming, boyish grin. “So you have time, then?”

She was freezing. It would feel good to discuss Drew’s condition with someone who really understood it. And she was curious to hear more about this school he wanted to build, for no other reason than to get him on the show to tell the viewers all about it.

“Sure. Why not?”

“Try not to overexcite yourself,” he teased, tossing the jacket onto the passenger seat, then climbing into his car. While parallel parking across from the café, Bianca remembered the last time she’d jumped a car battery; it had been three and a half years ago, driving home from Jason’s funeral. Drew had gone completely ballistic, drawing the attention of every driver who had passed them on Frederick Road. And the last man she’d shared coffee with? The funeral director, who’d served it in a tiny disposable cup.

Memory of his solemn, monotonous voice prompted a grin because something told her this impromptu coffee date with Logan would be anything but boring.

CHAPTER FOUR

“SO LET me get this straight,” Griff said, “you spent an hour—”

“Hour and twenty minutes.”

“Pardon me. I stand corrected.” Griff leaned back in his oversized desk chair and propped both pointy-toed cowboy boots on the glass and stainless-steel desk. “You spent slightly less than an hour and a half with this gal, and already you’re feeling...protective.”

“She reminds me of Sandra.” He shrugged. “So sue me.”

Not surprisingly, Griff didn’t violate the attorney–client rule, divulging details of his sister’s case, even though he and Logan had been as tight as brothers since high school. Logan had seen Griff through a brutal divorce, and Griff had helped Logan survive the first grueling year after the team dropped him.

“But she’s a widow?”

“Yeah....”

“Then I don’t get it. Your sister divorced her thug of a husband. Do you suspect this Bianca woman was abused, too?”

“No.” She hadn’t said or done anything to leave that impression. “I can’t explain it,” Logan admitted. “It’s just...” He didn’t dare say It’s just something I feel. Because of the autism connection, and because he was in no mood to fend off his friend’s razzing.

Griff put his feet on the floor and leaned both forearms on his desk. “Can I tell you how I feel?”

He sat up straighter. “Suppose I say no.”

Griff shrugged. “Then I ignore you, as usual.” He aimed a crooked forefinger—the one he’d broken twenty years earlier while playing HORSE in Logan’s driveway—and said, “Read my lips: Mind. Your. Own. Business.”

Logan winced at the stinging truth of it because he wanted her to be his business.

“Chances are, the only thing she has in common with Sandra is an autistic kid. But if there are more parallels?” Griff shook his head. “Then you need to back off. Right now. Or you’ll open yourself for a world of hurt. Again.”

The not-so-subtle reference to Logan’s last disastrous relationship didn’t go unnoticed. Everyone had told him to steer clear of Willow. His parents’ main objection had been the eight-year age gap. She’s a lifetime ahead of you! they’d said. But Griff had been present to witness a few of her outbursts. Despite his friend’s objections—and because he’d been young, stubborn and determined to become her protector—Logan had convinced himself that once they got to know her, they’d love her, too. Griff, included.