Page 12 of Embattled Return

She scowled, still looking unconvinced.

“I can take a taxi,” Logan said quickly.

John acted as if he hadn’t heard Logan, giving the woman a hard look. Then he seemed to sense some weakening in her stance, because he gave her a wink. “Bags are in the bed of my truck.”

“Fine,” she groused. “I’ll be back in an hour. Come on... you. What’s your name?”

“Logan.”

“Come on, Logan.”

She spun and left the office. With a final wave, Logan turned and followed her swinging hips, feeling like his life was not his own anymore.

“Let me grab my jacket and bag,” she said, glancing back at him. She was gone for less than a minute, then they waded back through the still-milling group in the reception area to the elevator. She pulled on her jacket as she waited for the doors to open. Once on, she turned to him and stuck out a hand, smiling brilliantly, her demeanor completely open. “I’m Marigold Lee. Sorry about the tension in the office, there. Mr. Palmer made an ass of himself when he hired me on and I’m not letting him forget it. I’m going to drag it out as long as I can.”

Logan barked out a laugh, more than a little taken off guard, but charmed. “No problem. I’m sorry you have to be my driver.”

She turned and faced the front. “Oh, I’m not. They’re having this big meeting in a little bit and it’ll be boring in the office anyway. I was just about to break for lunch. Now that Shannon is back, she’ll want to be in on the meeting. How long are you in Denver?”

Logan blinked, trying to follow her changing subjects. “Um, not sure. I guess the group is going to help me find any stray family I might have out here. Or at least figure out some history.”

She nodded, glancing at him. “I will say, Gunny Palmer is thorough. If there’s anyone out there, he’ll find them for you.”

Logan sighed, appreciating her easy manner. “I don’t think there’s anyone out here, honestly. My dad said most of them were dead, basically, or very old. I kind of just want to look at where I was born and stuff. Get a feeling for my roots.”

She turned to look at him, and he realized suddenly that his wounded side was to her, on full display. His face started to heat, because he could feel her looking at him. “I can understand that,” she murmured. “It’s important to know your history.”

The doors opened, then, saving him from a response. They headed out into the parking lot, and she strode toward Palmer’s red truck. Once there she leaned over the side rail and drew out Logan’s bags. Adjusting his crutches, Logan took one from her, and motioned with his head. “Which car is yours?”

Without fighting over the bag, Marigold led him to a deep navy-blue Volkswagen Beetle. Logan chuckled, eyeing the back seat. Could he even get his bags in there?

It took some finagling and both of them working from opposite sides, but they got the bags in. Logan settled gratefully into the passenger seat, his legs throbbing. It had been a long time since he’d been on his feet this much, and he was looking forward to getting to a hotel and just chilling out. Assuming he could even get himself out of the low-slung car.

Marigold settled in beside him, her shoulder brushing his own in the confines of the car, sending a shiver through him. When had he last even responded to a female like that? It didn’t bear thought. He shifted his shoulders toward the door to give her more room. The sweet and tangy scent of oranges wrapped around him, and he wondered if she had an air-freshener in the car.

“Do you want cheap, moderate or expensive?” she asked, dark, sleek brows lifted as she turned the ignition. The diesel rumbled to life.

He snorted. “How about somewhere in between?”

“You got it!”

They headed out of the parking lot and down the street, the Beetle seeming to find every pothole to rattle his bones. Logan felt like he needed to fill the silence, which was odd. He wasn’t normally the talkative one. “How long have you worked with the group?”

Marigold swerved smoothly around a slow turning semi. “Mm, about a month, now. I’ve enrolled at UC Denver for the fall quarter but it doesn’t start for a few months, so I’m getting as many hours in at LNF as I can. And Shannon has needed help for a while. Holy crap, that woman is a machine.”

“It sounds like it,” he murmured. “They have twins, too, right?”

Marigold nodded. “Yeah, I think they’re about two. I overheard Gunny freaking out when Shannon’s flight got cancelled.”

Logan watched the scenery roll by. They were getting into a more commercial area now, and he spotted several hotel signs. “Any of these will be fine,” he told her.

Marigold put on her blinker and swung into the parking lot of a Hampton Inn. “These are usually decent. Their breakfasts can be a little weird with the powdered scrambled eggs, but it can’t be any worse than what you ate in the military probably. Unless you were Air Force. They seem to get the good shit.”

She glanced at him expectantly and he shook his head. “Nope. Good old Army. We had the best dog food the government could buy.”

Marigold gave a throaty laugh as she pulled up into the check in area. Logan swung his door open and maneuvered his crutches out onto the pavement, then strained to get himself out of the car. His face heated as he struggled to get his legs and crutches going in the same direction. “Back in a minute.”

The attendant gave him a considering look as he walked in, obviously trying to look at Logan’s scars without appearing to. “Will you be joining us this afternoon?”

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