He glanced at the other open counter and noticed the customer there was not sipping on any sort of beverage. Sometimes he really missed being just another guy who nobody recognized. But with the career he had, that guy was a distant memory. “No, thanks.”
“What can I do for you today?” she managed to get out around a too-wide smile.
He pulled a folded envelope from his shirt pocket and slid that along with a check he’d filled out first thing this morning across the counter. “I’d like to pay that in full, please.”
The teller tried a couple of times to say something more, but her words kept getting tangled in her throat. She excused herself to talk to her manager.
He would slip back to Grandpa’s after this errand and put the notice right back where it had been buried, along with a note about Gus. Though everything else he lined up would be glaringly obvious, settling this debt would be more subtle; there was no need to tell his grandpa. The man would figure it out sooner or later. Hopefully, Logan would be hundreds of miles away at an event when that happened.
Grandpa Gerald had always had an issue with pride, and a temper to go with it. But Logan didn’t care. No one should be forced to work two jobs and still be backed into a corner to sell their home. He’d risk upsetting Grandpa indefinitely if it meant giving the man options.
A thin man with thick-rimmed glasses returned with the smiling teller. Logan recognized the man, but couldn’t recall his name. He’d helped Logan set up his first checking account, though.
“Is there a problem?” he asked. “The check is good. You can verify that on your computer there. I still bank here, you know.”
“No problem at all. Just an unusual circumstance.”
Sure, his name wasn’t on Grampa’s account, but why would the bank carewhothe funds came from as long as they received their money?
The thin man slipped behind the computer screen and his fingers scrambled over the keys. A moment later, he looked up. “Everything is good. Do you need a receipt, Mr. Attwood?”
“Please.”
The man slid him the printout and he folded it into his wallet. Now there was only one task left on his to-do list: Track down Abbie’s realtor.
* * *
Abbie
Abbie’s entire body shook. “What have I done?” Any sane person would’ve left the office without quitting, and at least given it some serious thought overnight before making a completely rash life decision. Though, it’d felt wonderful to let out years of frustration.
After holing up in the back office of the saddlery to pen an imploring, heartfelt letter to Mrs. Hampton, she collected Gibbs and slipped out the door while her mom assisted a customer. She yearned for home, even if home was only a guest cottage in her brother’s back yard. At least it was hers.
Gibbs had made it halfway across the back yard when he jolted to a halt and altered course ninety degrees.
“Should’ve known I’d find you out here,” she told Logan. She wanted to stay mad at him for offering her that loan, but she didn’t have the energy left. And he didn’t deserve that, she’d come to realize. While writing that letter, her anger had softened. He was only trying to help, in the only way he knew how.
He sat by the fire pit, pushing around the cold ashes. It was much too early in the day to light a fire for no reason. “Everything okay, Abbs?”
“Why did you go back, Logan?”
He stared at the fire pit for a few moments before he lifted his gaze to her. “Have to beat Tornado.”
She shivered. She’d never forget that bull or the way he stomped on Logan. Those sharp horns, that crazy look in his eyes. She’d tried to get Tornado pulled from the rodeo circuit after Logan had been in intensive care for two weeks, but no one would listen to her.
“Why? He almostkilledyou.”
“Something my dad told me.”
She stopped herself from interrupting. He had been very close with his dad growing up, but he rarely talked about him. Even now, more than a decade later, it was a painful topic.
“He told me, ‘Never let a bull best you.’” Logan set down the stick. “They retire him after this season. See? I’m running out of opportunities.”
She wanted to understand, she really did. But it didn’t make sense. A dozen questions danced on the tip of her tongue, but all of them would cause an argument. Instead, she let out a heavy sigh, dropped into a lawn chair, and leaned back in defeat.
“You sure everything is okay?” he asked.
Though every instinct told her to keep her mouth shut, to keep Logan as far from her problems as possible, she broke with one solitary glance at those dark, sympathetic eyes. “I think I just quit my job.”
