Page 3 of The Alpha's Sin
Again, Logan’s face comes to my mind. Normally I would never ask him for anything. My brother-in-law is a silent, stoic man—completely different from Dirk with his loud, easy charm. He barely said ten words to me at the wedding, even though he was Dirk’s best man.
In fact, I swear I caught him looking at his younger brother disapprovingly—as though he didn’t think we should be getting married. Considering that Dirk claimed he wanted to go back to Virginia to be close to family, his only brother doesn’t seem to like him much and I didn’t see any kind of warmth between them. So Logan will probably turn me away.
But I have to try. I can’t live in my car with it getting colder and colder at night. I’m a Florida girl—I’m not used to the cold and I don’t own any winter clothing. Seriously, not even a thick jacket or a pair of boots. I lived my life in flip-flops and t-shirts back in the Sunshine State and I haven’t gotten around to buying anything warmer yet. Now, I don’t have the money to.
All I can do is ask. I’ll beg him to let me sleep on his couch just for a little while—just until I can get a job and get back on my feet. Once I earn enough money, maybe I can make my way back to Florida. At least I know people there, even if I have lost touch with most of my friends. I can get reconnected and try to make a life for myself.
But for now, Logan is the only chance I have—I’ll have to take a risk.
2
POPPY
I stand on the porch of the neat, Cape Cod style house and try to gather my courage. It’s white with blue trim and there’s a huge maple tree filled with a riot of gold and scarlet leaves in the front yard. A few have fallen, sprinkled on the lawn like oversized confetti.
There’s a big black work truck in the driveway with equipment in the back. I remember that Logan has something to do with construction, though I forget what, exactly. Anyway, it looks like he’s home, so that’s good, at least.
But is it? I can feel the butterflies flapping nervously inside my stomach. I can’t believe I’m standing here about to ask a man I barely know if I can crash on his couch. What is he going to say? Will he turn me down immediately or draw it out before he says no?
I have no idea and I feel like I might be sick again, despite the stale crackers I managed to choke down to settle my stomach.
Parked in the street behind me is my old Cavalier. The gas gauge is nearly on empty so if Logan tells me I can’t stay, I’ll need to find someplace to park for the night that’s not too far away. Hopefully someplace safe.
The car is packed with everything I own—which isn’t much. The apartment we were living in came pre-furnished and Dirk talked me into moving all my Grandma’s furniture into storage before we moved, so at least I didn’t have to worry about that. Just a few suitcases filled with clothes and a box of knick-knacks and keepsakes. Not much to bother with, but it’s all I have in the world.
I shiver and stamp my feet as I try to get up the nerve to ring the front doorbell. I’m wearing a pair of jeans that already feel too tight in the waist and a dark green T-shirt that says, Go Bulls, and has the USF bull’s head logo on it in gold. I also have on a light grey cardigan—it’s the thickest piece of clothing I own and it’s not doing a thing to keep me warm.
A cold gust of wind ruffles my hair and makes up my mind for me. My nose and cheeks are already tingling and I’m shivering like crazy. I can’t stand here in the cold all day—I’ll freeze. It’s better to get this over with.
Leaning forward, I press the doorbell and listen to the musical ding-dong. A minute later I hear the sound of heavy footsteps and a deep, gruff voice says,
“Who’s there?”
I almost turn away at this point. I can’t lie—I find Logan intimidating. I’m usually a happy, light-hearted kind of person and he’s the exact opposite—dark and brooding and to be honest, kind of scary. I just don’t know if I can face him right now.
But it’s now or never. Taking a deep breath, I call back, “It’s me, Poppy. Your sister-in-law?” I add, my voice taking an up-tilt, making it a question as though I’m not quite sure we’re actually related anymore. Honestly, I’m not—I mean, Dirk did leave me. I guess legally we’re still married but for all practical purposes…
My thoughts cut off when the door swings open and I see Logan standing there. He’s wearing a white t-shirt that’s stretched tight over his broad chest, and black work trousers that lead down to thick-soled work boots. His sharp, pale grey eyes look me up and down and I immediately feel myself shrinking.
“Poppy?” His eyebrows go up and he looks at me expectantly. “What are you doing here?”
“I…um…” Shit—I can’t think! He’s so big…so scary. I rehearsed a speech on the way over here but now it’s fallen completely out of my head. My words have all dried up.
“Poppy?” he says again, frowning. “Are you all right?”
“I…no, I’m not all right,” I say, finding my voice at last.
“You’re not?” His frown deepens. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Dirk,” I blurt out. “He left me.”
And then, even though I try not to, I burst into tears.
3
LOGAN
To say I’m at a loss for words is a fucking understatement. My much-younger sister-in-law is standing on my front porch, sobbing like her heart is breaking. I step towards her, putting a hand out. God, she looks so fragile, standing there. She has her arms wrapped around herself, like she’s trying physically to hold herself together and her pretty face is crumpled as the tears pour down.
