Читать книгу Her Favourite Maverick - Christine Rimmer - Страница 12

Chapter Two

“Logan, it’s a bad idea,” his father said. “You need to forget about Sarah Turner.”

It was past six that evening. Logan, his dad and Xander were out on the porch of the ranch house at the Ambling A enjoying a beer after spending a few hours plowing through the stacks of boxes that weren’t going to unpack themselves. At some point, one of them needed to go inside and hustle up a meal. But for now, it was nice out and the beer was ice-cold and refreshing.

Logan stared off toward the snow-tipped mountains. The sky was cloudless, perfectly blue. “I like her, Dad. And it’s not your call.” He didn’t point out that he was a grown-ass man and would do what he damn well wanted to do. Max ought to know that by now. “I’m curious, though. She’s single, smart and pretty. She works for a living. She’s got it all going on as far as I can see. What have you got against her?”

“Nothing,” Max answered gruffly. “You’re right. She seems like a fine person.”

Xander rocked back in his chair and hoisted his boots up onto the porch rail. “So what’s the problem then, Dad? I was standing right there when you struck that crazy deal with the wedding planners to find us all brides for a cool million bucks. To me, that means you want us all to get married. Whether that’s ever gonna happen is another question entirely. But the way I see it, if Logan’s found a girl already, you should count your blessings.”

A million dollars to marry them off? Logan hadn’t heard that part. Sometimes his dad came up with the wildest ideas. Logan had no plans to marry anybody. But that wasn’t the point. He followed Xander’s lead. “Yeah, Dad. You were eager enough to hook Sarah and me up until the baby started crying.”

Max sipped his beer. “I do want you boys married. It’s about damn time. But when kids are involved, well, things get too complicated.” He pointed his longneck at Logan. “Take my word for it, son. You don’t need that kind of trouble. Viv will find you someone perfect—someone sweet and pretty without a baby hanging off her hip.”

“I’ll say it again, Dad. I like Sarah and I’m going to move on that.”

“I don’t want you—”

“Stop. Listen. There is no problem here. You don’t want me marrying Sarah Turner? Great. I’m not going to marry her—or anyone. The last thing I want right now is a wife, with or without a baby in the bargain, so you can save that million bucks. When my time comes to tie the knot—if it ever does—I’ll find my own bride. I don’t need anyone setting me up.”

Xander recrossed his boots on the railing. “That’s too bad. Because Dad’s got that wedding planner setting us all up.”

Logan leveled a warning look on his dad. “Are you listening? Because you ought to know your own sons better than that. I think I can speak for all six of us when I say that we’re not letting anyone choose brides for us—not you, Dad, and not those two wedding planners back at the train depot.”

“Nobody’s choosing for you,” Max insisted. “Viv and Caroline are just going to be introducing you to some lovely young single ladies. You should thank me for making it so easy for you to develop social connections in our new hometown.”

Xander grunted. “Social connections? You’re kind of scaring me now, Dad.”

“I just don’t get it,” Logan said to Max. “For years, you’ve been going on about how marriage is a trap—and now suddenly you’re shelling out a million bucks to make sure we’ve each got a wife?”

“Yeah.” Xander scowled. “Seriously, Dad. You need to cut that crap out.”

“Don’t get on me, boys.” Max assumed a wounded expression, but he didn’t say he would give up his matchmaking scheme.

Not that Logan really expected him to. Unfortunately, once Maximilian Crawford got an idea in his head, telling him to cut it out wouldn’t stop him.

They would have to warn their brothers that Max had brokered a marriage deal for all of them and they shouldn’t be surprised to find a lot of “lovely single ladies” popping up every time they turned around.

Just then, a quad cab rolled into the yard. A tall, solidly built cowboy got out.

Max stood from his chair. “Nate Crawford. Thanks for coming.”

The guy did have that Crawford look about him—strong and square-jawed. He joined them on the porch. Max offered him a beer. They made small talk for a few minutes.

Nate, Logan learned, was a mover and shaker in Rust Creek Falls. He owned controlling interest in the upscale hotel just south of town called Maverick Manor. Logan thought Nate seemed a little reserved. He couldn’t tell for sure whether that was because Nate was just one of those self-contained types—or because Max’s reputation had preceded him.

Logan loved his dad, but Max was no white knight. The man was a world-class manipulator and more than a bit of a scamp. Yeah, he’d made himself a fortune over the years—but there was no doubt he’d done more than one shady deal.

Yet people were drawn to him. Take Logan and his brothers. They were always complaining about Max’s crazy schemes. Yet somehow Max had convinced each one of them to make this move to Montana.

For Logan, it was partly a matter of timing. He’d been between projects in Seattle and ready for a change. When Max had offered a stake in a Montana cattle ranch, Logan had packed his bags and headed for Big Sky Country.

If nothing else, he’d thought it would be good for him to get some time with his brothers. And yeah, he couldn’t help wondering what wild scheme his dad might be cooking up now.

Never in a thousand years would Logan have guessed that Max had decided to marry them all off.

Max clapped Nate on the shoulder. “I really do appreciate your dropping by. Wanted to touch base, you know? Family does matter, after all. And now that me and the boys are settling in the area, we’d like to get to know you and everyone else in the family here.”

“How about this?” Nate offered. “Saturday night. Dinner at Maverick Manor. The Rust Creek Falls Crawfords will all be there.”

“That’ll work,” said Max. “My other four boys will be up from Texas with the breeding stock by then. Expect all seven of us.”

“Looking forward to it.” Nate raised his beer and Max tapped it with his.

* * *

The next morning at nine sharp, Logan paid a visit to Falls Mountain Accounting.

The door was unlocked, so he walked right in.

Inside, he found a deserted waiting room presided over by an empty front desk with a plaque on it that read, Florence Turner, Office Manager. The door with Sarah’s name on it was wide open. No sign of his favorite accountant, though.

The door next to Sarah’s was shut. The nameplate on that one read Mack Turner, Accountant. Something was going on inside that office. Faintly, Logan heard muffled moans and sighs.

A woman’s voice cried softly, “Oh, yes. Yes, my darling. Yes, my love. Yes, yes, yes!”

Logan debated whether to turn and run—or stick around just to see who emerged from behind that door.

Wait a minute. What if it was Sarah carrying on in there?

It had damn well better not be.

He dropped into one of the waiting room chairs—and then couldn’t sit still. Rising again, he tossed his hat on the chair and paced the room.

What was this he was feeling—like his skin was too tight and he wanted to punch someone?

Jealousy?

Not happening. Logan Crawford had never been the jealous type.

He was...curious, that’s all, he reassured himself as he marched back to his chair, scooped up his hat and sat down again.

The sounds from behind the shut door reached a muted crescendo and finally stopped.

A few minutes later, a flushed, dewy-eyed older woman who looked quite a bit like Sarah emerged from Mack Turner’s office. Her brown hair needed combing and her silky shirt was half-untucked.

“Oh!” Her blush deepened as she spotted Logan. “I, um...” She tugged in her shirt and patted at her hair. “I’m so sorry. Just, um, going over the calendar for the day. I’m Florence Turner.”

Hiding his grin, he rose again. She marched straight for him, arm outstretched.

“Logan Crawford,” he said as they shook.

“Please just call me Flo. I manage the office. We’re a family business, just my husband, our daughter, Sarah, and me.” Flo put extra heavy emphasis on the word husband. Apparently, she wanted to make it perfectly clear that whatever he’d heard going on behind Mack Turner’s door was sanctioned by marriage. “Are you here to see Mack?”

“I’m waiting for Sarah.”

“Oh! Did you have an appointment?”

“Not exactly.” He tried a rueful smile.

“Well, I apologize for the mix-up, but Sarah has meetings with clients—all day, I think she said.”

“Really? That’s inconvenient.” He patted his pockets. “I seem to have lost my phone.” He’d left it in the truck, but Flo didn’t need to know that.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Sarah’s mom said.

“Unfortunately, that means now I don’t have Sarah’s cell number...” Okay, yeah. He’d never had a cell number for her. But it was only a little lie.

And it worked like a charm. Flo whipped out Sarah’s business card. It had her office, home and cell numbers on it.

“You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

“Any time, Logan—and you’re more than welcome to use the phone on my desk.”

“Uh, no. I need a coffee. I’ll use the pay phone at the donut shop up the street.”

That was another lie. He called her from his truck as soon as he was out of sight of Falls Mountain Accounting.

* * *

Sarah was with a client when the call came in from an unknown number. She let it go straight to voice mail. The day was a busy one, appointments stacked up one after the other.

When she finally checked messages in the late afternoon, she found one from Logan.

“Hello, Sarah. It’s Logan Crawford. Call me back when you get a minute.”

She played it through twice, sitting in her white CR-V with Sophia snoozing in the back seat. His voice, so calm and commanding, made her feel strangely breathless.

The truth was, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him, of the way he’d looked at her, like she was the only person in the room, of the way he’d kept hold of her hand when there was no excuse for him to be holding it beyond the fact that he wanted to. She’d loved how he’d been so sweet to Sophia and that he’d insisted on carrying her diaper bag and tote out to the car.

Plus, well, he was way too good-looking and she hadn’t been with a man in over a year.

The plan was to give up men, after all. At least for a decade or so—maybe longer.

And really, hadn’t she made her unavailability perfectly clear to him?

Annoyed and flustered and oddly gleeful all at the same time, she called him back.

“Hello, Sarah.”

“Hi, Logan. How did you get my number?”

“I stopped by your office. Your mom gave me your card.” Dear Lord in heaven, his voice. It was so smooth, like raw honey. She pictured it pouring from a mason jar, all sweet and thick and slow. And then he added, “Your mom and dad are obviously very happy together.”

Sarah felt her face go hot. Stifling an embarrassed groan, she answered drily, “Yeah. I try to be out of the office as much as possible.” Then she changed the subject. “Logan, I’m flattered you went to all that trouble just to get my number, but really, I meant what I said. I hardly have time to wash my hair lately. I’m not dating anyone, not even you.”

“I get it. I called on business.”

“Oh.” Did she sound disappointed? Well, she wasn’t. Not at all.

He said, “We’re just getting moved in at the Ambling A and frankly, the accounts are a mess. We need a professional to get the books on track. We want to hire local. And that means Falls Mountain Accounting.”

Her heart rate had accelerated at just the idea of being near him as she gathered the information to whip those books of his into order—but no. She needed to keep her distance from him, which meant he would have to work with her dad. “Did you meet with my dad yet? He’s the best. I know you’ll be happy you hired him.”

“Sarah.” He made her name into a gentle reproach. “Your dad seems to have his hands full—with your mom.”

She did groan then. “I do not believe you said that.” He didn’t immediately respond and she suddenly had a burning need to speak, fill the silence between them. Bad idea. But she did it anyway. “They never used to be like that, I swear. I don’t know what happened. I haven’t asked. I doubt I ever will.”

“I understand.”

“Yeah,” she grumbled. “Sure, you do.” He made a soft, amused sort of sound. “Did you just chuckle, Logan? I swear to God I heard you chuckle.”

His answer was actually more of a demand. “You, Sarah. I intend to hire you.” He was just so...commanding. She’d never liked bossy men, but she found herself longing to make an exception in his case. In a strictly professional sense, of course.

And she might as well be honest—at least with herself. It was a definite ego boost to have this hot rancher so interested in her, even if she would never let it go anywhere.

Plus, well, he’d insisted he wanted to work with her. If she said no, he would go elsewhere. It wasn’t good for business to turn away work.

“All right, Logan. Have it your way.”

“I love it when you say yes. How about I meet you at your office?”

Her office, where there was no telling what her parents might be up to? “Er, no. I’ll come out to the Ambling A.”

“That’s even better. I feel I should warn you, though, it’s kind of a mess, old records all over the place. Some are on floppy disks, believe it or not. There are even some dusty, leather-bound ledgers that go back to the fifties.”

“It will be fine, don’t worry. Mostly, I need the current stuff.”

“Well, I’ve got that, too.”

She quoted her hourly rate.

“That works. Today?”

“Logan, it’s almost five. I need to go home, feed my baby, maybe even stretch out on the sofa and veg out to the new season of GLOW.”

“You’re tired.” He actually sounded as though he cared. “Tomorrow, then.”

“All right. I have a nine o’clock that should go for an hour, two tops. After that, I’m flexible. Is it all right if I call you when I’m ready to head over to the Ambling A?”

“Works for me. Call me on this number.”

She said goodbye and then sat behind the wheel for a moment, thinking how she would have to watch herself tomorrow, make sure she kept things strictly business. In the back seat, Sophia made a soft, happy sound in her sleep, and that had Sarah thinking how good Logan was with the baby.

Too good, really. The last thing she needed was him being charming and wonderful with Sophia. That could weaken her already shaky defenses.

Sarah bent her head over her phone again and texted her dearest friend since childhood, Lily Hunt.

Hey. You on the job at the Manor tomorrow?

Lily was an amazing cook and worked at Maverick Manor as a part-time chef.

Not tomorrow. Why?

Now, that was a long story. One she didn’t really want to get into via text—or in a phone call or face-to-face. Because what was there to say, really? Nothing had happened between her and Logan and nothing was going to happen.

I have to go visit a new client, Logan Crawford. He and his dad and five brothers have bought the Ambling A. I think things will go more smoothly if I’m not trying to take care of Sophia while I’m setting up their accounts. So how ’bout a cushy babysitting gig at my house?

There. That sounded simple and reasonable without giving away too much. She hit Send.

And Lily took it at face value: You’re on. Tell Sophia that Aunt Lily can’t wait. When to when?

Be at my place at 8:30. I should be back by two or three.

I’ll be there. But I want something from you in return.

What? You think I won’t pay you?

Sarah, I know you’ll pay me. You always do. If I didn’t take the money, you would chase me up Pine Street waving a handful of bills.

Very funny.

These are my terms. Saturday at 6. Dinner at the Manor. You and me, my treat. A girls’ night out. We deserve it. Get your mom to take Sophia. That’s what grandmas do. Come on, it will be fun.

It did sound kind of fun. Sarah hadn’t been out to dinner in so long, she couldn’t remember the last time. And Lily didn’t get out enough either, really.

Sarah, I meant it. Ask your mom.

Grinning, Sarah replied, Okay. I’ll ask her.

Yes! See you tomorrow morning, 8:30 sharp. And don’t put it off, call your mom now.

Sarah did call her mom. Flo answered on the first ring. “Honey, I’m so glad you called. Here you are back in town and we’re all working together—and yet, somehow, we hardly see you. How’s my sweet grandbaby?”

“Asleep at the moment.”

“She is an angel—oh, and by the way,” her mom began much too coyly, “a handsome cowboy showed up at the office this morning looking for you.”

Who are you and what have you done with my real mother? Sarah thought but didn’t ask. Florence Turner used to be quiet and unassuming. A nice person, but a grim one. Not anymore. When she wasn’t disappearing into her husband’s office for a quickie, Flo bounced around Falls Mountain Accounting full of energy and big smiles. It had been that way since Sarah moved home from Chicago a month ago. Who knew when it had started?

Sarah was afraid to ask.

Her mom prompted, “Did he call you?”

“Logan Crawford, you mean?”

“That’s him.”

“Yes, he called me.”

“Honey, that is one fine-looking hunk of a man, a complete hottie, I don’t mind telling you.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen him. Thanks, Mom.”

“You should snap that one up.”

“Mom. He wants me to straighten out his accounts, that’s all.”

“Oh, I think he’s hoping to have you straighten out a lot more than his accounts.”

“Mom!”

“Sweetheart, don’t be a prude. Life is beautiful and so are you. You deserve the best of everything—including a tall, hot cowboy with gorgeous blue eyes.”

“Yes, well. I didn’t call to talk about Logan. I was wondering if you would watch Sophia Saturday night. Lily and I want to get together for dinner.”

“Honey, at last!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You’ve been home for weeks and this is the first time you’ve asked me to take Sophia for you.”

“Oh, well, I...” Sarah didn’t know what to say. Her mom had offered, but it had never really been necessary.

“It’s all right,” Flo reassured her. “I’m just glad you’ve finally asked me—and yes, I would love to.”

“Perfect.” Sarah thanked her and ended the call before her mother could say another word about Logan Crawford and his hotness.

* * *

Armed with her laptop, her business tote and the steely determination not to be seduced by a sweet-talking cowboy, Sarah arrived at the Ambling A at eleven the next morning.

Logan was waiting for her on the long front porch of the giant log-style house. He wore faded jeans that fit his strong legs much too perfectly and a dark blue shirt that clung to his lean chest and arms and brought out the color of his eyes. He dropped his hat on one of the porch chairs and came down the steps to open her car door for her.

“Where’s Sophia?” he asked. She’d just picked up her laptop from the passenger seat. He reached in and took it from her, tucking it under his arm as he offered his hand to help her from her car.

She hardly required assistance to get out from behind the wheel and she really was trying not to let him get too close. But to refuse him just seemed rude.

“The baby?” he asked again as his warm, slightly rough fingers closed around hers. His touch felt way too good. She grabbed her giant leather tote with her free hand and hooked it over her shoulder.

“Sophia’s at home today.” She emerged from the car into the late-morning sunlight. “My friend Lily was free and agreed to babysit.” They stared at each other.

His fine mouth twitched at one corner as he quelled a smile. “I’m disappointed. I was looking forward to another lively game of peekaboo.”

Just like the other day at the train depot, she had to remind herself to ease her hand from his.

He led her inside, where there were moving boxes stacked in the front hall.

“It’s a great house,” she said, staring at the wide, rustic staircase that led up to a gallery-style landing on the second floor. “I vaguely remember the Abernathy family. They owned the place first and built the house, but they left a long time ago.”

“We got a hell of a deal on the place from the last owners, I’ll say that much.” He put his hand on the fat newel post. “The house needs work, but we’ll get around to that eventually. Right now, we’re just trying to get everything unpacked—my dad and Xander and me. My other brothers will be showing up in the next couple of days. Then we’ll be focused on buying more stock. The barn and stables need repair. Lot of ditches to burn and fences to mend. Fixing up the house is low on the list of priorities.”

She should move things along, tell him she needed to get going on the work he had for her. But she was curious about him. “So, you’re from Texas, I think your dad said?”

He nodded. “We had a ranch near Dallas. Me and my brothers grew up there.”

“You had a ranch?”

“We put it on the market when we decided on the move here.”

“So, you’ve always been a rancher, huh?”

He shook his head. “I went to college for a business degree and then moved to Seattle. Been there ever since.”

“Seattle.” She remembered then. “That’s right. Your dad said you were in real estate.”

“Property development, to be specific. I got there just in time for the boom years, and I did well. But then my dad got this wild hair to move to Montana, get us all together working a new spread. The timing was right for me. I’d been thinking that I was ready to try something different.” He was looking at her so steadily. She liked having his gaze focused on her. She liked it way too much.

Then he asked, “How ’bout you? Where did you go to college? Have you always lived in Rust Creek Falls?”

His questions were perfectly reasonable.

Her response took her completely by surprise.

All of a sudden, her throat was too tight and there was pressure behind her eyes.

Really, what was the matter with her? Out of nowhere, she hovered on the verge of bursting into tears, right here in the front hall of the Ambling A ranch house with this too-handsome, charming man looking on.

Crying? Seriously? She wasn’t a cryer. Crying was pointless and completely uncalled-for in this situation.

And yet still, she wanted to put her head in her hands and bawl like a baby over all the ways her life hadn’t turned out as she’d planned, just stand here sobbing right in front of this superhot guy. A guy who seemed hell-bent on seducing an overworked, constantly exhausted single mom who wanted nothing more to do with the male of the species, thank you very much.

She gulped the ludicrous tears down and managed an answer. “I went to Northwestern and then I worked in Chicago for a while.”

Now he was frowning at her, a worried sort of frown. Those eyes of his seemed to see way too much. “Sarah, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She pasted on a wobbly smile. “Really. And don’t you have a mountain of records and receipts to show me?”

He gave her a long look, a look both considering and concerned, as though he was trying to decide whether to push her to confess what was bothering her or back off. She breathed a sigh of relief when he said, “Right this way.”

They went down a central hallway, past a big living room and a kitchen that could use a redo to an office at the back of the house.

By then, she’d pulled herself together. “You weren’t kidding.” She gave a low laugh as she approached the big mahogany desk that dominated the room, its surface piled with old ledgers, dusty CDs and floppies.

“Most of this is probably meaningless to us, I realize,” he said, setting her laptop on a side chair.

She put her tote down beside it. “Yeah, it’s doubtful I’ll need any of the records generated by the former owners.”

“If you don’t need them, we can just toss them out.”

“I might need them. I can’t say until I look through all the current records. And you might want to look through it all later. You might find out you own something you didn’t even know you bought.”

“Even the floppies? They would need converting just to read them, wouldn’t they?”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to keep them for a while. If you decide at some point you want to go through them, we have a guy in Kalispell who will convert them for you.”

“That sounds really exciting.” He put on a dazed expression, even crossing his eyes. His playfulness made her grin and caused a flare of warmth in her belly. The man was way too appealing. But at least she was no longer about to cry and he’d stopped looking worried that she might have a meltdown right in front of him.

She said, “What I’ll need to set you up are your current records, including whatever you’ve got up till now of the Ambling A’s inventory, income and expenses.”

“Income?” He chuckled. “Not hardly. Not yet.”

“Well, okay then. Just your expenses and whatever inventory you have of machinery, equipment and livestock—including your best judgment of their value. I’ll need the documents you received from the title company when you closed the sale. I’ll put it all together using a basic accounting program that should be easy to keep current. That will be a few days to a week of work for me here at the ranch, if that’s all right?”

“Sounds good to me.” He had that look, like he was talking about a lot more than bookkeeping.

She pretended not to notice what a shameless flirt he was. “I’ll be in and out because I need to keep up with my other clients, too. But if I do the work here, I can come right to you with any questions I have about the records you’ve given me. We can clear up any issues on the spot.”

“Works for me.” He said it in a low rumble that stirred a bunch of butterflies to life in her belly.

She tried valiantly to keep a professional tone as she rattled off more suggestions. “After you’re all set up, you’ll need someone to post transactions regularly. I have a couple of local people who can do that. Or you can just put in the time every week or so and do it yourself. I suggest you reconcile the bank balance and the general ledger at least once a month.”

“Sure. And I’ll hire whoever you suggest. What about tax time?” he asked.

“I’ll be happy to do your taxes.”

“Good.” He arched an eyebrow and teased, “How ’bout an audit?”

She laughed. “Very funny. You know I can’t audit my own work.”

“Damn. Busted.” He tipped his head to the side, his gaze lazy and warm. It felt so good just to have him looking at her, to be staring right back at him, thinking all kinds of naughty thoughts as she went through her stock suggestions for keeping accounts in order.

Really, this was getting out of control. They were more or less having sex with their eyes. If she didn’t watch out, she would do something crazy, like throw herself into his arms and beg him to kiss her.

Uh-uh. It needed to stop.

“I should get to work,” she said.

“Right.” He pointed at the piled-high desk. “I think everything you need is there, including that big manila folder jammed with receipts, the inventory lists and the packet from the title company. You can tell the current stuff by the lack of dust.”

“Okay, then.” She moved behind the desk and pushed the records she would be using to one side. That left the piles of ledgers and old disks.

He got the message. “You need space to work.”

“Do you have another desk you want me to use? A table works fine, too.”

“The desk is yours for as long as you need it. I’ll box up the old records, get them out of your way.”

There were empty boxes waiting against one wall. Together, they started putting the ledgers in one box and piling the old disks in another.

She’d straightened from the boxes and was turning to the desk to grab another handful of disks when she spotted Max leaning in the open doorway to the back hall. He looked like some old-time gunslinger in black jeans, black boots, a white shirt and a black Western-cut jacket.

“The lovely Sarah,” the older man said. “What a surprise.” Something in his tone made her uneasy, some faint edge of...what? Mistrust? Disapproval?

But why?

“Hi, Max.” She gave him a big smile.

He didn’t smile back or even give her a nod, but turned to Logan as though she wasn’t even there. “Give me a few minutes?”

“Can’t it wait? Sarah and I were just—”

“Go.” Sarah faked an offhand tone. She felt completely dismissed by Max and that had her emotions seesawing again the way they had in the front all. There was absolutely no reason she should care if Logan’s dad didn’t like her. But she did care. There was a clutch in her throat and a burning behind her eyes as her totally inappropriate tears threatened to rise again. She waved Logan off. “Talk to your dad. I’ll finish clearing the desk and get to work.”

* * *

Impatient to return to his favorite accountant, Logan reluctantly followed Max out to the back porch.

The old man leaned on one of the posts that framed the steps down to the yard. He stared out at the ragged clumps of wild bunchgrass that extended to the back fence. Like too many fences on the property, it needed repair.

Logan braced a shoulder against the other post. “Okay, Dad. What’s so important we have to deal with it right this second?”

Max’s gaze remained on the backyard. He took a long count of ten to answer. “I can see now why you suddenly decided we needed to get the books in order.”

Why deny it? “You know I like Sarah. It shouldn’t be a surprise—and we do need someone to set up a system to keep track of everything.”

“You’ve got a fancy business degree. You can do all that yourself.”

“Dad, I didn’t come to Montana to take up bookkeeping. Sarah is equipped to do it fast and efficiently.”

Max slanted him a narrow look. “Maybe you don’t trust your old dad. You think you need a professional to tell you that everything’s on the up-and-up.”

Logan snorted out a dry laugh. “Oh, come on. I wouldn’t have signed on for this if I thought you were up to something you shouldn’t be. Still, it never hurts to have a professional putting a good system in place, keeping everyone honest.”

“So you’re telling me she’s only here for her bookkeeping skills? You’ve got absolutely no interest in those big amber eyes and that pretty smile?”

This conversation was a complete waste of time—time he could be spending with the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about. “I’m thirty-three years old,” Logan said flatly, “long past the age I have to run my personal choices by you. I’ll date who I want to date.” At least, I will if I can somehow convince Sarah to give me a shot.

“A woman with a child, Logan. It’s a bad idea. If it doesn’t work out, the kids are always the ones who suffer.”

Logan had had about enough. He straightened from the porch post and turned to face his father directly. “What is it with you all of a sudden? Are you talking about Sheila?” Sheila was his mother. She’d left them when Logan was seven. It had taken him several years to accept that she was no mother to him in any way that mattered. Even saying her name made a bitter taste in his mouth. Max shot him a bleak glance, but then, without a word, he turned and stared off toward the fence again.

“You dragged me out here,” Logan prodded. “Talk. I’m listening.”

But Max only waved a dismissive hand and continued to stare at nothing. Fed up with him, Logan went back in the house.

When he entered the office, Sarah glanced up sharply from behind the desk. He didn’t like the look on her face, a tense look, kind of teary-eyed, a look a lot like the one she’d had in the front hall earlier.

He pushed the door shut behind him. If Max had more to say, he could damn well knock. “What’s wrong?”

She had her laptop open and the big packet of sale documents spread out in front of her. Shutting the laptop, she rose. “You know what? I should go.” She swiftly lined up the stack of papers and closed the packet. “I know of a perfectly good bookkeeper in Kalispell. I’ll text you his number.”

“Sarah.”

She didn’t answer, just scooped up her laptop and took a step out from behind the desk. Logan stopped her by blocking her path, causing her to clutch the laptop to her chest and stare up at him defiantly. “Excuse me, please.”

“Sarah.”

She hitched up her pretty chin. “You are in my way.”

“What’s the matter?” It took everything he had not to touch her, not to grab her good and tight in his arms. “Talk to me.”

Her soft lips trembled. “It’s, um, quite obvious that your dad doesn’t want me here.”

“It’s not about you, not really.”

“Of course you would say that.”

“Look. Sometimes I don’t think he knows what he wants. He gets these wild ideas, that’s all. You can’t take him seriously. Bottom line, we need the accounts in order and that means we need you.”

“But I just don’t understand. It’s like he thinks I’m after you or something, trying to trap you into—I don’t know, putting a ring on my finger, I guess. And I’m not. I swear I’m not. I’ve got no interest in marriage. I don’t want to trap anyone.” She stared up at him through eyes swimming in barely held-back tears, so earnest, so very sincere. “Especially not, um, you.”

He tried to tease her. “You know, if you keep talking that way, you’re bound to hurt my feelings. I’m a very sensitive guy.” And he did dare to touch her then. Clasping her shoulders, he held her gaze.

“I...oh, Logan.” She looked absolutely miserable and he should probably just let her go. But he held on.

What was it that she did to him? He didn’t get it. He felt like ten kinds of selfish jerk to be putting her through this. But still, he just stood there, hands holding her slim shoulders, keeping her in place.

Finally, she spoke again. “See, the thing is, it hasn’t worked out for me, to get involved with a man. So I promised myself I wouldn’t. Not for years. Maybe never. And then you show up and, well, frankly, Logan, you really tempt me.”

This was bad news? “Excellent.”

“No. No, it’s not. It’s not excellent in the least. All it does is confuse me to feel this way about you. I don’t need it, all this confusion. I’m already overworked and exhausted. The last thing I need is a sexy cowboy in the mix.”

“Hold on,” he said tenderly. “So then, what you’re saying is you think I’m tempting and sexy?”

She huffed out a frustrated breath. “That is so not the point.”

“Maybe not. But you can’t blame me for being pleased to hear how you feel.” He wanted to kiss her, just pull her close and put his mouth on hers. But he wasn’t sure how she would react to that. She seemed really upset and he didn’t want to make her any more so.

“It’s all too much, don’t you get it?” she cried. “I’m just plain on overload.” And then, as if to illustrate her point, a single tear got away from her. It slipped over the dam of her lower eyelid and traced a gleaming trail down her cheek.

“Sarah. Damn it.” He let her go, but only so he could get his hands on the laptop she clutched so tightly. When he tried to take it, she resisted. “It’s okay,” he coaxed. “Come on, now. Let go.” And she did. When she gave in and released it, he plunked it down on the desk and took her shoulders again. “Sarah, don’t cry.”

Another tear escaped. And another after that. “Too late,” she said in a tiny voice.

“Aw, Sarah...” He pulled her close and she let him, collapsing against him, her soft arms sliding around his waist.

For a too-short span of perfect seconds, she clung to him. He breathed in the clean scent of her silky hair, wondered what she’d done to him, hoped that whatever it was, she would never stop.

But then she looked up again, her eyes wet and so sad, a tear dripping off the end of her pretty nose.

“Here,” he said. “Sit down.” He pushed her gently back into the old leather desk chair and looked around for a tissue. There weren’t any.

She sniffled. “Give me my tote, please.” He went around the desk to grab it from the chair where she’d left it and handed it to her. She pulled out a travel pack of tissues, took one and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I’m a mess,” she said.

“No.” A hank of her hair had escaped from her ponytail. Gently, he guided it back behind the shell of her ear. Retreating, but only a little, he hitched a leg up on the corner of the desk. “You’re tired and overworked. And completely gorgeous.”

She gave a little snort-sniffle at that. “Yeah, right.”

He put up a hand, like a witness about to swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. “You’re gorgeous,” he said again. “And I mean that sincerely.”

She started to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. Her shoulders slumped. “I’m just so tired, you know? Tired of working nonstop and trying to be a decent mom to Sophia and really not doing either all that well. I don’t get it, I really don’t. How did everything go so wrong?”

He leaned closer. “What went wrong? Sarah, come on. Tell me. I need to know everything that’s bothering you.”

She scoffed. “Why?”

“So I can try to make it better.” He actually meant that, he realized as he said it. He wanted to be with her—for as long as it lasted. And during that time, he wanted to be good for her. When they parted, he wanted her to remember him as a good guy who had treated her well.

She shook her head slowly. “If you keep pushing, I’m just going to go ahead and unload it all on you. My whole life story, all the ways I messed up. It will be a lot. It will be a really bad case of extreme oversharing and you will wish you’d never asked.”

“No, I won’t.”

She scoffed. “Yes, you will. Believe me. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Uh-uh. For you to talk to me about what made you cry is exactly what I want.” And he did want it. He really did. “Tell me. Tell me everything.”

She stared at him, considering. “You’re sure?”

“I am. Talk to me, please.”

“Logan, I—”

He stopped her with a shake of his head. “Tell me.”

For a long moment, she just stared at him. And then, at last, she let it all out.