“Article’s due Sunday at midnight.” TheStarlight Gazettewasn’t a big enough operation to wait until the night before to print. Everything had to be prepped in advance for their weekly edition. It was miraculous enough they circulated one newspaper a week when surrounding communities were struggling to put out one a month. “Maybe I’ll talk to him after the rodeo is over.”
“Abbie,” Erin scolded.
“I could start writing it sooner,” she suggested in offering. “I know enough about him.” Already the plan sounded solid to her. Easy-peasy. Write as much as she could now. Wait until the last possible second to talk to Logan and fill in the blanks.
“When has procrastination ever worked out for you?” Erin asked. If Abbie tried to argue, her friend would list no fewer than three examples of when procrastination completely sabotaged her. There were plenty to pick from.
“I don’t like this,” she whined. Gibbs licked her hand again, as if to offer his condolences on the crappy matter.
“Why don’t you go talk to him tonight?” Erin said. “Get it over with.”
“Tonight?”
“He’ll be tied up with his family things tomorrow, or so I overheard. And you have horse camp with Izzy the day after. If you’re not careful, that deadline will be staring you in the face with only minutes left. A sloppy article might cost you. Don’t you want Vince to realize you’re ready for more?”
Erin’s practicality won out again, as it had many times during their friendship. It was an odd match but nice balance to Abbie’s impulsive nature. “I don’t know.”
“I could send him out to you.”
She narrowed her eyes to dagger points. “Don’t you dare.”
“Then go talk to him.” Erin pushed up from the couch, leaving Gibbs with one last good rubdown. “The sooner you get this over with, the easier it’ll be to deal with him around. He’s only here for the week, you know.”
Logan Attwood never stayed in town for long. That had always been the problem.
* * *
Abbie allowed herself to watch a full episode ofNCISbefore going to talk to Logan. The storyline was one of her favorites, which was just as well; she hadn’t paid attention to more than a few minutes of it. A hint of smoke from the fire pit had drifted through a cracked window halfway through the episode, luring her to peer through the pane of glass. Logan sat only yards away with his feet kicked up, quite at home. “Gibbs, this is a terrible idea.”
Her faithful, fluffy Newfoundland mix at her side, Abbie trekked through the back yard toward the patio. She’d watched Logan push around the fire with a long stick for the last twenty minutes, but she didn’t want him to think she was desperate to see him.
She wasn’t.
“Hope you didn’t let your dinner get cold.” Done messing with the fire, Logan was stretched out in a lawn chair, feet propped up on an edge of log. “That was some amazing pot roast.”
She stopped just short of the patio pavers, debating whether to let Gibbs off the leash. Her dog wasn’t used to being restrained in this yard, but she wasn’t ready to find out whether Gibbs was a traitor. “Why are you staying here?” Okay, maybe not the best way to start a conversation that involved a big favor. But it was too late to take back the burning question.
“I wanted somewhere quiet.” Logan leaned back a little more in that reclined lawn chair and folded his hands over his stomach, calm and cool as ever. It was what made him a good bull rider. He never cracked under pressure. She hated that she knew that about him.
“You couldn’t stay with your grandpa?” It was a loaded question, and she already knew the answer. Their relationship was strained since Logan chose to return to bull riding.
Logan crossed his feet at the ankles, still unperturbed. “Didn’t have an invitation there like I did here.”
She wondered if he’d been out there yet, if he knew just how sad that place was looking these days. “You shouldn’t need one,” she said. But he did. Gerald hadn’t forgiven him for getting back on a bull a year after one nearly killed him. To the bull-riding community and his fans, Logan was courageous for riding again. But to his family, he was reckless.
“What do you really want out here, Abbie? I know it’s not the pleasure of my company.”
“You’re unbelievable,” she muttered. She’d meant to keep it under her breath, but the smirk on Logan’s face let her know he heard her. She needed to watch her temper and her tongue if she had a chance at getting an interview for the cheapest price. Maybe it would only cost her a lunch, to catch up. She could handle that. “I have a favor to ask.”
Logan laughed his deep, low rumble that always made her heart speed up, even when she was mad at him. “Really, now?”
“I-I’d like to . . . to interview you.” Man, she sounded like a stuttering fool. They’d been together for years before the accident. They grew up together. Why was it suddenly so difficult to ask a straight-out question? “For the newspaper.”
“No.”
“But—”
“I’ve told everyone, including your boss, that I’m not doing interviews. I’m not here to be in some spotlight, contrary to what you may think.”
