land he’d been raised on. That ranch was in his blood, as surely as his DNA.
Zeke had seen to that. From the moment of his birth, Logan had learned everything there was to know about Bur Oak Ranch. The legacy behind the land. The sweat and work and tears and pride that had gone into creating that legacy. The importance of continuing it.
And Logan was damn grateful. He could not imagine his life any other way, and he’d always been surrounded by family. Well...the Cordero side of the family.
The Daugherty side, on the other hand, not so much. Logan had never met his father’s siblings or parents or any cousins that might exist on that branch. And maybe he shouldn’t, but he felt connected to them just the same. Maybe due to Gavin. Maybe because he carried the Daugherty surname. Or because—and this was the more likely explanation—he couldn’t let go of the thought that if his father had lived longer, he would’ve behaved honorably.
Denny must have wanted Logan to carry his last name, or he wouldn’t be a Daugherty. Some would chalk that up to nothing but male pride on his father’s part, but Logan thought it went deeper than that. Hoped so, anyway, now that he knew more of the story.
Initially, in the months after his birth, his grandfather hadn’t allowed Denny to come within spitting distance of the ranch. But Denny refused to take no for an answer, kept showing up despite Zeke’s ire, and Carla would whisk Logan to a park or a restaurant or some other public location in order for father and son to spend time together.
Later, in the year before Denny’s accident, his grandfather had relented, allowing these visits to take place at the ranch. Zeke did not give up a fight—any fight—easily, so Logan had to figure that Granddad saw something in Denny to soften his views. There were photos of father and son playing on the living room floor. There were a few of Logan sitting on his father’s lap, being read to. There was even one of Denny and Logan conked out on the sofa together.
All of this had led him to believe that if Denny had lived, he would’ve eventually brought Logan fully into the Daugherty family, instead of keeping his existence a secret.
Yet he’d never know for sure.
Fortunately, his child would not have the same experience. Logan’s mother, grandparents, uncles and cousins would stand steady. And they’d do so until the day they died. Because damn it, that was what being a part of the Cordero family meant.
Logan’s child would never experience the doubt that he grew up with, wondering why his father hadn’t loved him enough to do what was right. Because even as a kid, he understood that his parents hadn’t been married. He just hadn’t known why. Back then, he’d blamed himself.
Now...well, now he knew better. But kids sensed when something in their world wasn’t quite the way it should be and, without ever saying a word, picked up that weight and carried the full brunt of it everywhere they went, causing all sorts of silent, damaging havoc.
And that right there was precisely why marrying Anna was so all-fired important. He never wanted his kids—regardless of how they came to be—to wonder if they’d been a mistake. And this temporary-marriage idea of his—while harebrained to a rather large extent—was about the best he could come up with to ensure that would not happen.
Logan stretched his legs and closed his eyes, his thoughts moving on to the other half of his child’s parentage. He knew next to nothing about Anna’s family. They’d spent nearly three hours talking, but every part of their discussion had revolved around the baby, their individual wishes and, of course, the year and a half or so that they would remain husband and wife.
Undeniably, they were entering this oddball relationship completely backward. Also irrefutable was the fact that their marriage would come to an end. But the way Logan saw it, their connection shouldn’t. They would—from here on out—always be involved in each other’s lives.
Just that fast, his curiosity about this woman caught on fire. His heart started beating a tad faster and a mite harder. Who was Anna? What were her dreams, her goals? What was her childhood like? Who were the first boy she kissed and the last man she loved?
Had she told her family she was marrying him? If so, had the conversation gone well, or were they—at this exact minute, perhaps—trying to convince her to back out of the wedding?
Well, hell. He did not like that possibility in any way, shape or form.
Logan opened his eyes and sat up straight. They weren’t supposed to talk again until the day after tomorrow, when they met for lunch to discuss the specific details of their wedding. But now that seemed too far away. Wouldn’t hurt anything to call her, would it?
He supposed in the world of possibilities, one existed in which, yes, a quick phone call could have a negative effect. The law of averages, however, rested largely in his favor.
Without giving the idea any further consideration, he found her number—which she’d given him earlier, when he gave her his—in his mobile and hit Send. She answered almost immediately, and the ragged edges of his anxiety disappeared into thin air.
“Logan?” she asked, her voice low and soft and sleepy. Warm, too. “Is everything okay?”
“I was about to ask the same question,” he said, matching the volume of his voice to hers. “How’d everything go with your family? I’m hoping it went well.”
“That would be my aunt Lola, as neither of my sisters is local. Nor are we very close,” she said with a small sigh. “Lola took it pretty well, I think. She’s concerned, of course, but she’s...um...pretty much on board. She even offered to buy my wedding dress.”
A plethora of questions begged to be asked, but Logan squelched them all. He wanted to hear about Anna’s sisters, her aunt, where her parents were and why she hadn’t mentioned either of them, but he didn’t need that information this second. Not when she sounded so drained and tired. “I’d say that’s a positive sign, wouldn’t you? I’m glad, Anna. I was worried.”
“Worried? Whatever about?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that after telling your family, you’d change your mind and decide to do this without my involvement.” He’d move heaven and earth, if necessary, to stop that from happening. “I’m asking a lot from you, I know.”
“Really?” she asked. “And here I was, thinking I was doing all the taking. But no, Logan, I haven’t changed my mind. I’m in this, so long as you don’t give me a valid reason not to be.”
“Such as?”
For half a heartbeat, he didn’t think she was going to respond. But then she said, “It would take a lot. You’d have to start storming around and yelling all of the time, or insisting on ridiculous rules that would be almost impossible for any child to adhere to, or... I don’t know...other versions of extreme behavior that wouldn’t be conducive to a healthy environment,” she said in a near whisper. There was strength there, too. “Then I’d bail without question or hesitation.”
“I see.” He was hit with a peculiar combination of emotions, and he wasn’t altogether sure which he felt the most acutely: sadness at the possibility that Anna’s childhood had included some of what she’d mentioned, or anger that she might think he was capable of behaving so erratically. It took some doing, but he dismissed both.
“Time will prove this, Anna, but I am not that type of man.”
“Most men aren’t,” she said. “But they do exist, and if I had any inkling you were one of them, I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you. Even on a temporary basis. I would’ve just said ‘No, thank you’ and gone on my merry way. My...heart tells me you’re a good man, Logan.”
“Again,” he said, “I hope time will prove that to you.”
Neither spoke for several minutes, yet the silence wasn’t uncomfortable or unnerving. It was almost reverent in its peace. The same feeling he had when looking out on a fresh blanket of snow coating his family’s