Sara Jane Stone - Command Control

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” she said.

The adrenaline rush combined with the feel of her body against his. The wet, frantic friction overloaded his senses. He could feel every inch of her wet limbs gliding over his. And it was too damn much.

Without a word, Logan dunked his head back and let it sink under the water, hoping to find some perspective. But the only thing waiting for him was wanting. It had been so long since he’d felt anything like it. The desire to strip away her shirt, to touch her, while she rode his thigh...

Christ, she’d knocked all the common sense out of him. He couldn’t go there. Not with her. As far as threat levels went, she was more than a few notches above a fourth-grade reporter, even if he didn’t know for sure if she was a journalist.

Slowly, he lifted his head. Sadie’s wild thrashing had stopped. Her hands rested on the side of the tub, lifting her top half out of the trough. Her bottom half straddled his waist, a knee on either side of him, but she was doing her best to keep her body lifted off his.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I let the bull escape.”

“You went into Titan’s pen?” He looked her over, this time checking for signs of injury. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She pressed down on the sides of the trough and lifted herself out. He missed the contact instantly. “But he jumped the wire fence.”

Logan sighed. “And now he is in with the heifers.”

“I’m sorry.”

He stood, his soaking wet clothes forming a puddle in the dirt at his feet. “Not your fault. I should have warned you to steer clear of him.”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, obscuring his view of the tank top clinging to her like a second skin. He wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or not.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

Logan looked out at the heifers’ field. He had a list a mile long of the things he wanted to do, but he knew what needed to be done. “Round him up.”

They spent the next hour chasing one very determined bull. Or rather, he chased the bull and Sadie did her best to distract him, running around in those damn shorts. Still, he had to give her credit. She put her heart into the chase, waving her arms, screaming at Titan. She looked so damn cute he half expected the animal to follow her home. Hell, he wanted to.

When they finally secured the bull in his pen, she turned to him. “Not how you planned to spend your afternoon?”

He let out a laugh. “No.”

She smiled and it lit up her whole face. “Come back to the guesthouse with me. Those rocking chairs on the front porch are calling my name. And I owe you a cold drink.”

He knew he should turn around and head back to his chores. Maybe change into dry clothes. His jeans and shirt were damp, though no longer dripping thanks to the hot afternoon sun. Still, clean clothes were probably a good idea. But after herding a bull, he was too tired to fight the attraction.

“All right,” he said.

She led the way around the barn and up the three wooden steps he’d rebuilt when he’d first arrived back home. Waving toward the pair of green rocking chairs, she said, “Wait here and I’ll grab our drinks. Beer, water or orange juice?”

“I’ll take a beer.”

Sadie disappeared through the front door and he settled into a rocker. Eventually, he’d get around to asking her what kind of writer she was. He hoped like hell her answer wouldn’t be “reporter.”

The door swung open and Sadie appeared carrying two bottles, a pair of forks and a pie dish. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. And the only thing I have is half a leftover apple pie from The Quilted Quail.”

“I like pie. Here, let me get that.” Logan took the dish from her hands.

“Thanks.” Sadie claimed the empty rocker, and handed him a beer and a fork. “Dig in.”

They passed the dish back and forth in silence, sipping their drinks, and watching the sun sink lower behind the green mountains and casting long shadows over the cow pastures. It wouldn’t be dark for several hours, but they were well into late afternoon. Aside from the occasional moo from the field, everything was quiet.

“I’m sorry again about letting Titan out,” she said. “As you can probably tell, I don’t have much experience with farm animals.”

“Now you know to steer clear. Messing with a bull.” He shook his head. “It’s risky.”

She laughed. And hearing that sound—it was worth spending an hour chasing a horny beast.

“You don’t get anywhere without taking risks and looking for new adventures,” she said.

Logan nodded slowly, digesting this bit of wisdom. “This is where you’re looking to go? A rural Vermont cow farm?”

“If you’d asked me that a couple of days ago, I would have said absolutely not, I’m just here for my sister. But right now, I’m thinking I like it here. Risks and all.” She turned to him. “What about you? Is this where you want to be?”

“I’m enjoying the company right now.” He lifted his beer bottle to his lips, not meeting her intense gaze. The way she looked at him—it felt as if she could see straight through him.

“But?”

“Most days I’d rather be with my team than playing farmer,” he admitted.

“Then why are you here?”

He shook his head. “Let’s just say I screwed up. Big-time. That’s why I’m home. I’ve been ordered to remain on R & R.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’d rather be at war?”

“It’s what I do,” he said. “Being in Mount Pleasant is driving me crazy.”

“Ah, the raffle.”

“That’s part of it.” There were also the memories, some good and some that reminded him of all the mistakes he’d made in his life.

“Are you going to do it?”

He watched as she licked her fork clean, her lips running over the utensil until she’d consumed every last drop. He’d never been attracted to the way a woman ate pie before. But everything about this woman’s mouth turned him on. “Probably. Aunt Lou will insist.”

“And you always listen to your aunt?”

He shrugged. “Most of the time.”

“That’s sweet.” She smiled, piling another large bite onto her fork.

“My mom passed away when I was a kid and my dad, well, he was never in the picture. My aunt and uncle raised me. My uncle died of a heart attack three years ago. Lou is... She’s all I have left.” He heard the grief in his voice and knew he should have kept his mouth shut.

Logan brought his beer to his lips and drained it, careful not to look over at Sadie. He wanted something from her, but not pity. Still, he felt her gaze on him, studying his profile. He had a feeling she wanted to ask him a question.

“Whatever it is, go ahead and spit it out.”

She turned her fork over in her hands. “You said you screwed up. What happened?”

Logan looked off into the surrounding Green Mountains. Lined with evergreens, these peaks were a world away from the ragged war-ravaged cliffs in Afghanistan. He was about to feed her his automatic “that’s classified” response, but first he had to know why she was digging. “Aunt Lou said you’re a writer. Are you a reporter?”

He studied her face, waiting for her answer. But he knew before she opened her mouth that his paranoia had pushed him way off base. Her brow furrowed with surprise. Then laughter transformed her face, making her eyes sparkle.

“Nope,” she said. “Not even close. I write fiction.”

“All right, then,” he said. “The answer to your question is classified. I can’t talk about my missions.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “I’m going in for another. You want one?”

“I’m thinking about it,” he said.