“Next week.”
Logan shook his head. “Not soon enough.”
“I need to finish this interview first.” Vince wouldn’t listen to her at all if her primary assignment wasn’t complete and shiny. Even then, chances were slim.
“But you want to put the horse camp story in next week’s paper, right?”
Crap. There was that. “Yeah.” She wasn’t going to admit her plan to sneak it on page fourteen. Though it belonged much closer to the front, her uncle was less likely to pitch a fit if the story ended up that far back and wasn’t taking up ad space. Still, he looked over every detail. He’d spot it, of course, and remove it.
“Abbs.” Warning hung in his tone, and she knew she’d been caught. Logan held a scone captive until she relented.
“Fine. I’ll talk to him sooner.” Her phone buzzed again, causing her to yank it from her pocket so roughly that it flew into the grass on the other side of Logan.
“You always had an arm on you,” he said, that twinkle back in his eyes.
Her gaze dropped to his lips, startling her. She couldn’t let that kind of thought in. Kissing Logan would solve nothing. It didn’t make her want to do it any less, though. “Can I have my phone, please?”
It buzzed again in his hand. “Christy’s calling you.”
“What?” She snatched the phone from his palm seconds before Gibbs lunged forward, convinced they were all playing a game of keep-away. Logan wrestled with him while she answered the call.
“Abbie! I’ve been trying to get ’hold of you.”
“Is everything okay?” Though she and Christy were not as close of friends as she was with Erin, they did grab lunch a couple times a month, and talked about a mutual love of their favorite TV show,NCIS, way more than two sane women should.
“I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“What?”
“Your house. It has multiple offers.”
Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. She’d known it was inevitable, that someone would see the value of that big, beautiful Victorian wonder. But secretly she hoped it would sit for a month or more and force the seller to reduce the price somewhere closer to her range. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Her despondency must have shown on her face. Logan reached for her hand, squeezing her fingers gently. Compassion filled those dreamy eyes. She’d miss them so much when he left. Didn’t want to think about next week when they’d be gone again.
“Do you want to write one?” Christy asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
“Write what?”
“An offer.”
She sat up a little straighter. Her scone bounced off her knees, and Gibbs snatched it up in one bite before she or Logan could stop him. “I thought you said I couldn’t afford that house.” She shook her hand free and ignored the raised eyebrow he gave her.
“You can’t,” Christy said.
“I don’t understand.”
“There’re three other offers already, and let me be clear that I don’t think you’ll get the house.Butyou could always write a letter. Let the seller know how much that house means to you. I thought you might regret it if you didn’t at least try.”
A letter?She couldn’t fathom writing a letter to the same woman who’d chased her away with a broom. Somehow, she doubted the seller would find that little tale amusing. She wanted to feel more optimistic about this turn of events, but all she really felt was a twisted knot in her stomach. “When do I have to decide?”
“All offers have to be in by six tonight. Abbie, it’s a long shot, and I don’t want to get your hopes up.”
“I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Okay. Call me when you make up your mind. I can email you the paperwork for electronic signatures if that’s easier than meeting up today.”
“Good. Yeah. Thanks, Christy.”
