Slowly, he lifted his head. Sadie’s wild thrashing had stopped. Her hands rested on the side of the tub, lifting her top half out of the trough. Her bottom half straddled his waist, a knee on either side of him, but she was doing her best to keep her body lifted off his.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I let the bull escape.”
“You went into Titan’s pen?” He looked her over, this time checking for signs of injury. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She pressed down on the sides of the trough and lifted herself out. He missed the contact instantly. “But he jumped the wire fence.”
Logan sighed. “And now he is in with the heifers.”
“I’m sorry.”
He stood, his soaking wet clothes forming a puddle in the dirt at his feet. “Not your fault. I should have warned you to steer clear of him.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest, obscuring his view of the tank top clinging to her like a second skin. He wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or not.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
Logan looked out at the heifers’ field. He had a list a mile long of the things he wanted to do, but he knew what needed to be done. “Round him up.”
They spent the next hour chasing one very determined bull. Or rather, he chased the bull and Sadie did her best to distract him, running around in those damn shorts. Still, he had to give her credit. She put her heart into the chase, waving her arms, screaming at Titan. She looked so damn cute he half expected the animal to follow her home. Hell, he wanted to.
When they finally secured the bull in his pen, she turned to him. “Not how you planned to spend your afternoon?”
He let out a laugh. “No.”
She smiled and it lit up her whole face. “Come back to the guesthouse with me. Those rocking chairs on the front porch are calling my name. And I owe you a cold drink.”
He knew he should turn around and head back to his chores. Maybe change into dry clothes. His jeans and shirt were damp, though no longer dripping thanks to the hot afternoon sun. Still, clean clothes were probably a good idea. But after herding a bull, he was too tired to fight the attraction.
“All right,” he said.
She led the way around the barn and up the three wooden steps he’d rebuilt when he’d first arrived back home. Waving toward the pair of green rocking chairs, she said, “Wait here and I’ll grab our drinks. Beer, water or orange juice?”
“I’ll take a beer.”
Sadie disappeared through the front door and he settled into a rocker. Eventually, he’d get around to asking her what kind of writer she was. He hoped like hell her answer wouldn’t be “reporter.”
The door swung open and Sadie appeared carrying two bottles, a pair of forks and a pie dish. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. And the only thing I have is half a leftover apple pie from The Quilted Quail.”
“I like pie. Here, let me get that.” Logan took the dish from her hands.
“Thanks.” Sadie claimed the empty rocker, and handed him a beer and a fork. “Dig in.”
They passed the dish back and forth in silence, sipping their drinks, and watching the sun sink lower behind the green mountains and casting long shadows over the cow pastures. It wouldn’t be dark for several hours, but they were well into late afternoon. Aside from the occasional moo from the field, everything was quiet.
“I’m sorry again about letting Titan out,” she said. “As you can probably tell, I don’t have much experience with farm animals.”
“Now you know to steer clear. Messing with a bull.” He shook his head. “It’s risky.”
She laughed. And hearing that sound—it was worth spending an hour chasing a horny beast.
“You don’t get anywhere without taking risks and looking for new adventures,” she said.
Logan nodded slowly, digesting this bit of wisdom. “This is where you’re looking to go? A rural Vermont cow farm?”
“If you’d asked me that a couple of days ago, I would have said absolutely not, I’m just here for my sister. But right now, I’m thinking I like it here. Risks and all.” She turned to him. “What about you? Is this where you want to be?”
“I’m enjoying the company right now.” He lifted his beer bottle to his lips, not meeting her intense gaze. The way she looked at him—it felt as if she could see straight through him.
“But?”
“Most days I’d rather be with my team than playing farmer,” he admitted.
“Then why are you here?”
He shook his head. “Let’s just say I screwed up. Big-time. That’s why I’m home. I’ve been ordered to remain on R & R.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’d rather be at war?”
“It’s what I do,” he said. “Being in Mount Pleasant is driving me crazy.”
“Ah, the raffle.”
“That’s part of it.” There were also the memories, some good and some that reminded him of all the mistakes he’d made in his life.
“Are you going to do it?”
He watched as she licked her fork clean, her lips running over the utensil until she’d consumed every last drop. He’d never been attracted to the way a woman ate pie before. But everything about this woman’s mouth turned him on. “Probably. Aunt Lou will insist.”
“And you always listen to your aunt?”
He shrugged. “Most of the time.”
“That’s sweet.” She smiled, piling another large bite onto her fork.
“My mom passed away when I was a kid and my dad, well, he was never in the picture. My aunt and uncle raised me. My uncle died of a heart attack three years ago. Lou is... She’s all I have left.” He heard the grief in his voice and knew he should have kept his mouth shut.
Logan brought his beer to his lips and drained it, careful not to look over at Sadie. He wanted something from her, but not pity. Still, he felt her gaze on him, studying his profile. He had a feeling she wanted to ask him a question.
“Whatever it is, go ahead and spit it out.”
She turned her fork over in her hands. “You said you screwed up. What happened?”
Logan looked off into the surrounding Green Mountains. Lined with evergreens, these peaks were a world away from the ragged war-ravaged cliffs in Afghanistan. He was about to feed her his automatic “that’s classified” response, but first he had to know why she was digging. “Aunt Lou said you’re a writer. Are you a reporter?”
He studied her face, waiting for her answer. But he knew before she opened her mouth that his paranoia had pushed him way off base. Her brow furrowed with surprise. Then laughter transformed her face, making her eyes sparkle.
“Nope,” she said. “Not even close. I write fiction.”
“All right, then,” he said. “The answer to your question is classified. I can’t talk about my missions.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “I’m going in for another. You want one?”
“I’m thinking about it,” he said.
She cocked her head to one side and looked at him, her gaze burning a path down his body before she nodded and headed inside. He watched the screen door close behind her. If she could set him on fire by just looking at him, what would happen when he touched her? Did he want to find out?
Yes. No hesitation. It was the first time in months he’d made a split-second decision, one that felt certain and solid. After all, his colonel had told him to do whatever it took to move forward. He had a feeling going after Sadie, kissing her, maybe more, would do more for him than sitting down with a shrink. Logan stood and followed her inside.
* * *
SADIE HEADED DOWN the short hall, her mind still turning over his words. She’d been on the verge of asking him whether he was married, but som
ething in his voice had stopped her. The depth of his grief when he talked about his family seemed too raw and fresh for a childhood loss. It left her wondering about his secrets again. Everyone had them, but his seemed edged with sorrow. And a far cry from a married man looking to sneak around on his wife.
She’d thought about offering the usual expression of sympathy, but she had a hunch this wasn’t a man who wanted pity. She’d rather see him laughing, and maybe after another drink or two, naked.
She carried the empty bottles to the kitchen and found two more, setting them on the counter. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the fridge. A picture of Logan without his work jeans and T-shirt filled her mind. She’d seen the outline of those muscles when she’d sent them both tumbling into the water trough. But her imagination went a step further, picturing him in the shower, wet and glistening, begging for her to touch and taste.
In her fantasy, he stood back against the wall, his hands flat on the tiles. It would take all of the man’s willpower to keep his hands off her, but he would if he wanted to feel her mouth on him. She’d make that clear. And like a good soldier, he’d follow her orders.
The wooden floorboards creaked in the hall and Sadie opened her eyes. The erotic shower scene vanished, but it had left its mark. She was leaning against the fridge practically panting with desire, the downside to having an overactive imagination.
Logan turned the corner. She saw him hesitate for a second and guessed he’d noted her come-and-get-me look. He crossed the kitchen and planted one hand on either side of her head. Holding his body away from hers, he looked down into her eyes before dropping his gaze to her parted lips.
That look—it was part question, part warning. He wanted to kiss her. He planned on kissing her. And right here, right now, she wanted the real thing, no more almost-kisses in bookstores. But he didn’t move.
“Kiss me,” she demanded.
Heat flared in his eyes.
“Now,” she added.
He lowered his head until their lips almost touched. And then, damn him, he froze.
Sadie reached out, grabbed his hips and drew him close, craving contact. This man wanted her. She could feel it. But something had a hold on him. And she needed to know what it was.
Running her hands up from his hips, over his oh-so-tempting chest and shoulders, she moved to his biceps, then down his powerful forearms to his hands. Entwining her fingers with his, she forced him to release his hold on the fridge.
“The other day, in the bookstore, you started to say something. You said ‘I’m a’—but never finished the sentence. Now might be a good time to tell me.”
5
LOGAN CLOSED HIS EYES. One kiss. That was all he wanted. One kiss before he watched pity eclipse her laughing, playful expression. Christ, she wanted it, too. The way she’d said that one word—now—had turned him inside out with need. But he’d hesitated, damn it.
“Logan?”
Opening his eyes, he stepped away, his arms falling to his sides. He didn’t have a choice now. He had to tell her. “I haven’t kissed a woman in a while.”
She nodded, watching him, waiting for an explanation.
“It’s been more than a year.” Longer since he’d claimed a kiss that would lead to more. “I—”
A loud ring echoed in the kitchen.
Sadie’s eyes widened. “The landline.” She raced across the kitchen to the cordless phone on the far wall. “Hold that thought. I need to get this.”
She frantically punched a button on the phone. “Laurel? Are you having the baby?”
Logan blinked. If the woman on the other end said yes, he needed to make himself scarce. Talking about his late wife while her sister was in labor? Not going to happen.
“Dinner?” Sadie closed her eyes. “I’m the worst sister in the world. I got caught up in something and forgot. Laurel, I’m so sorry. I’ll be right there.”
Sadie hung up the phone and turned to him. “I’m sorry. I completely lost track of time. I promised my sister I’d be back for dinner.”
“No problem. I’ll head out.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed for the door. Her sister had bought him some time, but he knew if he wanted to kiss this woman he had to tell her that he’d lost his wife to cancer. If she stuck around long enough, someone in town would volunteer the information.
But after he told her, would she order him to kiss her? Not likely. No matter how that conversation played out in his mind, it didn’t lead to her mouth on his and her body tight against him.
“Logan?”
He paused in the archway between the kitchen and the hall. “Yeah?”
Sadie smiled, her expression still brimming with heat and laughter. That look—it made him want things he might not be ready to handle based on his performance today.
“If Laurel’s still pregnant tomorrow,” she said, “I could help you with the farm chores.”
He raised an eyebrow. After he’d chickened out when she’d demanded a kiss, she was still interested? Part of him wanted to say, Forget the chores, let’s start again here. In front of the fridge.
But this woman was trouble. Her laughter drew him in like a drug. He wanted to take her to bed. He wanted to talk to her and tell her things he hadn’t shared in a long time—only he couldn’t. He wasn’t ready.
“I promise to stay away from Titan,” she added.
The answer was no. He knew that, but— “I was planning to repair the heifers’ birthing pen,” he said. “I could use a hand. Come find me in the barn tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll bring the coffee.”
* * *
SADIE RUSHED INTO her sister’s cramped kitchen, letting the screen door slam behind her. Out of breath from running across the fields adjoining the two properties when the sun was so low behind the clouds she could barely see—this was why people drove cars short distances in the country, no streetlights!—Sadie stared at her sister.
“You didn’t tell me Louise Reed had a ruggedly handsome nephew,” she said.
Seated at the kitchen table beside her husband, Laurel looked up from her half-empty plate. “Are you late for dinner because you were with the supersexy soldier?”
Greg, her twin’s husband, glanced up, a fork full of steak and potatoes suspended inches from his mouth.
“No.” Sadie sank into the empty chair next to Laurel.
Her sister eyed her suspiciously. “Are you sure? If you were, I want details. Especially the naked ones.”
Greg set his fork down on his plate and pushed back from the table. “That’s my cue to leave.”
“I was not with him. Not like that.” But she’d thought about it.
“Yet,” Laurel said.
Sadie waited until she heard Greg turn the TV on in the other room before she nodded. “Yet.”
“He’s an army ranger.”
“I know,” Sadie said.
Laurel smacked the wooden table with her open palm. “So you talked to him.”
“I helped him with the farm chores. And afterward, I fed him pie.”
Her twin’s eyes sparkled. Leaning forward as far as her belly would allow, she spoke in a low voice. “I heard a rumor he rode a horse into battle. And Cindy said—”
“I’m not interested in gossip,” Sadie said, shaking her head. “If I want to know something, I’ll ask him.”
“You’re planning to see him again?”
If she had her way, she’d do more than see him. But sharing her interest with Laurel didn’t feel right. She was here to help her twin, not the handsome soldier who might have ridden a horse through a war zone. God, that sounded hot. Part cowboy, part soldier and all muscle—the man was a walking, talking fantasy. With secrets. She couldn’t forget about those.
&nbs
p; “I’m living in his aunt’s guesthouse,” Sadie said. “I’ll probably bump into him again.”
“So no plans?” Laurel pressed.
“I might have agreed to help him repair a birthing pen for the heifers,” she admitted. The downside to not spending time with Laurel—she forgot how easily her twin knew when she was fudging the truth. “But only if you don’t need my help.”
Laurel raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to fix a birthing pen? Did you tell him you don’t know a screwdriver from a hammer?”
“He didn’t ask. And I’m not that hopeless. Anymore.”
“When was the last time you used either?”
Sadie picked at the potatoes on her plate. “Not recently.”
“Yeah, you’ll be a great help.” Laurel stood and began clearing the table. “You’re going to end up having wild sex in a barn while I sit here watching my feet swell.”
Guilt came crashing down on her. Sadie abandoned the steak dinner she’d barely touched and brought her dish over to the sink to help her sister. “If you need me, I’m here.”
Laurel waved her away, taking the dirty dish from her hands. “No. You should have sex with the soldier.”
“I’m not looking for a vacation fling,” she said. “You know that is not why I’m here.”
Laurel placed the untouched steak on a cutting board and began slicing. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t seize the opportunity. Your last relationship ended in disaster three months ago. And I’m willing to bet you haven’t had sex since then. Am I right?” Laurel stopped slicing and gave her a pointed look. “I’m right,” her twin said. “Get the loaf of bread from the fridge, please.”
Sadie did as she was told.
“A fling is just what you need,” Laurel continued. “Just do yourself a favor and don’t tell him you write erotica.”
Sadie set the bread down beside the cutting board, her gaze fixed on the dark night outside the window. The memory of her last failed relationship still stung. She was over Kurt, but the way he’d run for the hills the moment he’d learned about her career, claiming it would damage his future political career? That hurt clung to her. So did the fact that he’d assumed his career ambitions trumped hers.
Command Control Page 4