“What about a preservation grant? This store has been a part of Brookhollow for so long, certainly it would qualify for some help.” So much had already changed in the small town, it would be a shame to lose another small business. He scanned the shop. “Do you have a computer in here?”
“Over here,” Danielle said, leading the way to the cash-register desk. She opened a laptop and punched in her password, then opening the internet, she slid it toward him.
With his left hand, Logan did a search for the type of grant he suspected she could apply for and after several seconds the website for the New Jersey Heritage Committee lit up the screen. “See?” he said as he slid the laptop toward her.
Danielle scanned the page. “If I could qualify for one of these, I could keep the store open, at least until I retire. Heaven knows my kids wouldn’t be interested in running the place. Thank you, Mr. Walters. I’m grateful for your help.”
“Grateful enough to sell me that desk?” He nodded toward the Cutler. If she said yes, he’d carry it back to the B & B himself, busted hand and all.
She laughed. “Almost, but not quite.”
Logan shrugged. “Had to try.”
* * *
LEIGH OPENED HER dresser drawer and scanned the mess. No, nothing new had found its way into it since the last time she’d torn it apart, looking for something to wear. She blew her hair off her forehead. She was being ridiculous. It didn’t matter what she wore.
She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. She’d set her curls and stained her lips. Her reflection taunted her.
The truth was she’d been looking forward to seeing Logan all day and wanted to look nice. Even if all he saw when he looked at her was ten capable typing fingers. Debatably capable.
Groaning, she reached into the drawer for her black V-neck sweater as the doorbell rang.
She tugged it over her head as she made her way down the hall, careful not to crush her curls. She pulled her hair free from beneath the fabric, smoothing down the static, and opened the door. “Logan? I thought we were meeting at the gazebo?”
He shivered in a gust of wind that blew a trail of leaves across her front porch. His eyes narrowed. “Did you do something different with your face?”
Leigh rubbed her lips together, trying to conceal the stain. “No...it’s just some makeup,” she said, wiping them.
“Oh, did you have plans tonight?”
Leigh cleared her throat. “No, I’ve just had it on all day...must have forgotten to wash it off,” she lied through a deep breath.
Logan moved closer. “Your hair is different, too.”
So much for him not noticing. “I curl it sometimes.” She wrapped her arms around her midsection and rubbed her sides for warmth. The fog was rolling in on the breeze, and the air was damp and chilled. “So, are we not working tonight?”
“Well, we made a lot of progress last night. And I’ve, uh, I’ve run out of new content.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels.
“Right.” Leigh frowned. “So, what’s the problem? You dictate...slowly, of course...and I’ll type.”
“It’s not that easy.” Logan ran his left hand through his hair and studied his hiking boots.
“To create on the spot?” Leigh waved a hand and reached for a coat on the hook beside the door. “Give me a second and I’ll—”
“No, Leigh, you don’t understand. I got nothing. I don’t know what else to write. For the first time in my career, I’ve hit a wall and honestly don’t know a way around it,” he said, pacing the creaky wooden planks. “I’ve had writer’s block before and it was just a matter of pushing through, writing all the wrong words until the right words come. But this...this is something else entirely. There are no words.” He paced faster.
Leigh was unsure what to say. “Maybe...maybe if you just took a break and got away from it this evening? Did something completely different? You might be able to see your story fresh when you get back to it tomorrow. I don’t know....”
Logan cleared his throat and reached into his jeans pocket. “That reminds me.” He pulled out a tiny, crinkled piece of paper and handed it to her.
Taking it, she frowned. “A piece of Joey’s menu?”
He motioned. “Turn it over.”
The Haunted Hike ad from the Monroe Farm. “Well, if it’s scary inspiration you need, you’re sure to find it there.” She handed him back the ad.
He shrugged. “I guess it couldn’t hurt. As it is, I’ve got nothing.” He studied her for a moment. “So I guess that means you’re off the hook tonight. I’ll let you know if and when I need you.... I mean your typing services.” He turned and bounded down the steps two at a time.
“I’ll go with you,” she called, sliding her arms into her coat and grabbing her house keys.
Logan turned on the path. “I didn’t ask...”
Leigh closed and locked her door and joined him on the pathway. She wrapped her pale pink scarf around her neck. “I know, but you wanted to.” She cocked her head to the side. “I can read people, too.”
* * *
THE HEADLIGHTS OF Leigh’s minivan cut through the deep fog as she turned onto the gravel driveway to the Monroe Farm for the second time that day. Two volunteers, wearing orange flag vests, motioned the way to the field where dozens of other vehicles were parked.
Logan peered through the windshield. “I don’t see anything decorated.” He’d been expecting to see lights or signs, any indication of a Halloween event taking place, but the parking lot was dark, lit only by the streetlamps on the side of the road and the occasional headlights of other cars. Spooky atmosphere in itself.
“A shuttle bus will pick us up near the farmhouse to bring us to the hike’s starting point.” She glanced at the time on the dash. “If we hurry, we can make the first one at seven,” she said, grabbing her toque from the backseat and tugging it on. “Ready?” she asked as she cut the engine and reached for her matching pink mittens.
It didn’t escape his notice that she didn’t flinch at covering what had obviously been an effort with her hair. His ex would rather freeze in the cold than ruin her hair or makeup. “Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Opening the passenger door, he hopped down, zipping his thermal jacket higher. He shivered in the damp, bone-chilling air and met Leigh in front of the minivan. The thick fog drifting over the grass made it difficult to see farther than a few feet, so he stayed close to her. The faint smell of jasmine perfume he’d first noticed in the van reached his nose and he smiled. She had gone to some trouble getting ready that evening. He wasn’t hating that idea.
“This way,” Leigh said.
Another orange-vested volunteer smiled in greeting as they approached the gate. “Hey, Leigh. Weren’t you here earlier today with the kids?” The young boy held a stack of glow sticks in one hand and a flashlight in the other.
“Yes, I’m back. This time for the haunted hike.” She gestured to Logan. “This is Logan Walters. He’s staying at the bed-and-breakfast—” Realizing what she’d said, she quickly looked at him to make sure she hadn’t given away too much of his personal information. But Logan just smiled. “Uh, this is Jack Monroe. His family owns the farm.”
Logan extended a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” Jack glanced between the two of them curiously. “You’d better hurry, the next shuttle leaves in a few minutes. Doug’s leading the seven o’clock tour.” He cracked two glow sticks for them. “For additional light. The trail can get quite dark in areas. Just head to the booth along the back of the house for your tickets,” he said, pointing the way down the dimly lit gravel path.
“Thanks, Jack.” Leigh waved.
Logan fastened the string on his glow stick and wrapped it around his neck.
�
�Clever,” Leigh said with a smile.
“Here,” Logan said, taking hers and knotting the string. Stopping in front of her, he placed it over her head, then gently lifted her hair above the string, allowing his hand to linger on the softness a second too long. Leigh’s gaze met his. “There you go,” he said, quickly moving away.
“Thanks,” she said as they continued toward the ticket booth in silence.
A young girl greeted them behind the ticket counter. “Hi, Leigh. You made it just in time.” She picked up a walkie-talkie from the counter. “Doug, we have two more riders. Over.”
“Okay, we’ll wait. Tell them to hurry. Over.”
“Six dollars each, please.” She rubbed her bare hands together for heat.
“I got it.” Logan reached into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet.
Leigh reached into her pocket. “No, that’s okay,” she said, shaking her head and unfolding a ten-dollar bill.
“No, really, Leigh.” Logan lowered his voice. “It’s the least I can do for your help.” He suspected the residents in the small town were curious about who he was and why he was spending time with the local child-care provider. From her availability in helping him that week, he didn’t think she was involved with anyone...he never saw anyone visiting during the day. He placed his hand over hers, pushing her money aside as he handed over a twenty-dollar bill. “Keep the change.” The money was being donated to the local food bank.
“Thank you. Here are your tickets. Just head around back and have fun,” she said in a spooky tone.
Logan shoved his wallet back in his pocket.
Leigh stared at the loose gravel under her feet as he fell into step beside her. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“It was nothing, really. I do plan to compensate you for the time you’re giving up, helping me. I’m not sure I mentioned that.”
Leigh gestured to his cast. “That’s not necessary. You wouldn’t even need my help if you hadn’t broken your wrist trying to help me.”
Logan frowned. “I wish I could blame my lack of progress on this injury.” After the last letter from Dillon and McKay Family Law, stating that Kendra wanted to move to California with Amelia, all forward momentum had ground to a halt. The idea that he might be faced with the choice of only seeing Amelia twice a year or moving to California was all he could think about.
Maybe Brody was right, maybe he was forcing the plot in a direction the characters didn’t want to go.
“Let’s hope this helps,” Leigh said as she climbed onto the shuttle bus. “Hi, Doug.” She handed the driver her ticket.
“Aha, I knew we’d finally get you out here,” he said with a wink.
“Yeah, well, this may be my first and last. This is Logan Walters, he’s a guest at the B-and-B.”
Logan handed Doug his ticket. “Nice to meet you.”
Doug’s eyes widened and a broad smile spread across his face. He moved his hat farther onto his forehead and squinted in the dim lighting of the bus as he studied Logan. “You’re not the Logan Walters, are you? Author of the Van Gardener series?”
So a few people in town had heard of him and his books. “Afraid so.” Logan nodded and extended a hand.
“Great to meet you. I’ve read the first four books in the series. I heard the last two are on the way.” He looked hopeful.
“So I’ve been told.” Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Leigh staring. He was grateful she didn’t reveal to his fan the trouble he was having finishing the final installment.
“Well, grab a seat. It’s an honor to have you along for the tour.” Doug closed the shuttle door.
Logan followed Leigh to the remaining empty seats near the back of the shuttle bus, aware of the scrutinizing, curious stares as they passed. He sat on the aisle seat next to her. “Thanks for not calling me out as a fraud up there.”
Leigh touched his bare hand. “You’re not a fraud. I’ve seen your work, Logan. It’s really good.”
Logan stared at the point of contact, the heat from Leigh’s delicate, tiny hand burning into his flesh. The comforting warmth enveloping him was foreign—Kendra’s touch had been far from comforting. During his childhood, moving from one house to another, physical closeness and warmth had been rare. Even the nicer families had been kind, but cool toward their foster kids. Getting too attached made it painful on everyone when the children were reassigned to new families.
He would have thought that the lack of permanency in his childhood would prepare him for Kendra’s leaving, but the opposite was true. For the first time, with Kendra and Amelia he’d felt as though he belonged somewhere, as though he was a part of a family. Now he was once again alone.
He turned his hand, grasping Leigh’s as he brought it to his lips, where he placed a soft kiss. “Thank you,” he said against her warm skin.
She blushed but didn’t pull away as they both kept their eyes on their joined hands.
“Okay, everyone, stay together on the trail and follow me,” Doug announced a second later as the shuttle came to an abrupt stop.
Logan dropped Leigh’s hand. Their gazes held a second, before Leigh turned away and stood.
“That was a quick ride.” Her voice was hoarse as she tried to make light of the exchange that had occurred between them. He noticed the slight shake of her hand as she poked a stray curl under her toque and followed him off the bus.
Doug stood in front of the signs marking the beginning of the hike: Do Not Enter After Dark, No Trespassing and Enter at Your Own Risk. His face adopted a serious expression as he held his lantern to his chin. The reflection of his darkened features in the thick, smoky fog was eerie and Logan heard Leigh gulp. “Last chance to turn back before we enter the haunted woods of shadows,” Doug said in an echoing, hollow voice.
Logan glanced at Leigh. “You’re sure you’re okay with this? You look kind of spooked already,” he whispered with a grin. Clearly this was not a place she would go on her own. She was doing this for him. He wondered, when was the last time someone did something just for her? Too long, he decided.
Leigh scoffed. “Of course, I’m fine.”
“Have you always lied this much?” Logan asked as they followed Doug down the path. Soon the neon-green fluorescent light from the row of glow sticks was the only light other than tiny orange-and-white holiday lights illuminating the ground on their side of the trail.
“No, you seem to bring out the worst in me.”
Crispy leaves crunched beneath their feet, and the wind howled and whistled—taped sound effect, Logan decided, since it hadn’t been quite that blustery when they parked. The fog that continued to roll in, however, was real—and making it difficult to see far in front of them. Logan zipped his coat higher and wiggled his bare fingers beneath the cast. He stepped on a broken tree branch lying on the path and it snapped under his weight, the unexpected sound in the silence causing his heart to stop.
Leigh jumped and moved closer to him, her face pale in the green glow coming from around her neck.
He apologized as the family behind them laughed. “This scary stuff is really not your thing, huh?”
“I can’t believe it’s anyone’s thing. Why on earth do people like scaring the crap out of themselves?” She shivered, scanning the darkness.
“I guess it’s the same reason people read my books. They want to feel as though things can work out. They want to feel scared, while all the while knowing things will be okay.”
“Will things be okay? In your series, I mean?” She grew serious as she asked, her fear seemingly forgotten.
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, correct me if I’m wrong...” She paused, moving even closer and lowering her voice. “But it seems to me that the plot is heading in a certain direction...one that might be less than okay.”
She could sense that already? His original plan to kill off Van Gardener in this last book was showing through in the writing? He frowned. That wasn’t good. If he was going to risk an ending like this, it had to come from left field; fans couldn’t be expecting it. “You know how I plan to end the book?”
“I could be wrong,” she said quickly.
“You’re not.”
Doug paused near the first exhibit, a decrepit grave site. The headstones were weather-beaten and broken, and fresh bloody footprints came from the dug-up ground of the grave. “Here lies Dr. Ernstein...or at least he used to rest in peace here...looks like he may no longer be contained beneath six feet of heavy dirt.” An eerie scream a few feet away in the woods caught the group’s attention and everyone turned toward the sound.
A dark figure advanced toward them from the woods, wearing a stained, torn doctor’s lab coat. Leigh moved to stand behind Logan as the ghoulish creature drew closer, arms outstretched, a grotesque, decaying face, eyes unseeing as he continued to wander the forest.
She let out a deep breath as it moved away. “Thank God,” she said, but as she turned, a loud squeal escaped her. Another zombified creature peered directly over her shoulder. She clutched the back of Logan’s coat with both hands and buried her face into the fabric, turning their bodies to put him between herself and the zombie. The young actor’s eyes glinted with pride for having succeeded in terrifying her as he moved on to terrorize the rest of the group.
Logan turned slightly, taking her hands. “He’s gone,” he said with a laugh.
Leigh swiped his casted hand. “That wasn’t funny.”
“It was, actually,” he said, composing himself. “You really didn’t have to come along. You’re terrified. And you know you’re going to be targeted now—you’re the perfect audience.” He rubbed her arms and bent his knees to look into her wide eyes. Beautiful eyes. Kind eyes.
“I can handle it.”
Logan didn’t think twice before wrapping his arm around her waist as they continued on down the path of terror. “Are you sure? You, Leigh Norris, are a lot of things, but brave is not one of them.”
Falling for Leigh Page 7