Command Control Page 8

  Sadie nodded. “Nothing that can’t be fixed with a little online shopping and overnight delivery.”

  Still holding the truck door open, she turned back to face him. “Are you going to the festival tonight?”

  He nodded. “No choice. My aunt cornered me and I agreed to the raffle. With one stipulation.”

  “The winner foots the bill for lunch?”

  He laughed. “No. That I don’t have to go up on stage. I’ll be there and I’ll greet the winner afterward to set up the lunch, but that’s it.”

  “Stage fright?”

  “Let’s just say I’m not comfortable standing up in front of a crowd,” he said.

  “Then I’ll see you tonight. Maybe I’ll be the lucky winner. I wouldn’t mind lunch with the local hero.”

  He smiled. “If you are, I’ll upgrade the prize from lunch to dinner.”

  “A real date? I thought we were keeping this casual.” A date was one step away from relationship territory. Dinner dates and long meaningful talks about the future—those were off the table.

  “We are. But if you save me from lunch with one of Mount Pleasant’s single women, I’m buying you dinner.”

  Sadie had never been the jealous type, but she had a competitive streak a mile long. She couldn’t win with her father, but taking on the women of Mount Pleasant?

  “You’re on.”

  9

  IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON, the sun still high above the Green Mountains, when Sadie arrived at the Summer Festival. People milled about Main Street, which had been closed to traffic. Some perused the tables set up by local businesses while others made their way to the tented food area by the stage. Her stomach grumbling, Sadie headed for the food, pausing to let a group of kids, mostly preteens if she had to guess, cross the road, each one leading a goat or sheep.

  “They’re headed to the 4-H tent set up on the other side of city hall,” a blonde woman said. “Getting them ready for the parade. The llamas and the cows should already be over there. Anyone who showed an animal at the county fair two weeks ago is invited to march.”

  “Oh,” she said. What else was there to say about goats marching through town? Sadie turned to the woman who’d appeared at her side, unsure if she should be grateful the cloud of perfume surrounding the blonde had overpowered the farm animal smell.

  “I’m Cindy. And you must be Laurel’s sister.”

  “Sadie. How did you know?”

  “You have the wide-eyed look of someone who has never seen farm animals in town,” Cindy said. “I heard about the baby. Congratulations!”

  The perfumed stranger wrapped her arms around Sadie and gave her a quick squeeze before stepping back. “I hope you’ll consider entering our raffle.”

  “I was on my way to purchase tickets.” After food, she thought, but she could take a quick detour. “Where do I go?”

  “Heading there myself. I’ll take you.” Cindy linked her arm through Sadie’s and started walking.

  Sadie did her best to keep up, already regretting the strappy high-heeled sandals she’d chosen to wear with her fitted sundress. She might as well have pasted a sign on her back that read Not From Here. Most of the locals wore jeans and boots or sandals that bore a closer resemblance to flip-flops than high heels.

  When they reached the raffle table, Cindy released her and slipped behind the table. A teenager, slightly older than the kids with the goats but still in braces, stood beside Cindy.

  “Tickets are a dollar each and all the money goes to the school’s literacy program,” Cindy said. “How many would you like?”

  “Five hundred?”

  Cindy’s smile faltered and her eyes widened.

  “I’m a big fan of literacy.”

  “Or she’s met Logan,” the teen said.

  “That is very generous of you.” Cindy had recovered her smile. “Certainly improves your chances. Cash or check?”

  “Check.” Sadie withdrew her checkbook from her purse. “When is the drawing?”

  “Seven tonight. Please make the check out to the Mount Pleasant Literacy Fund.” Cindy picked up a spool of tickets and began tearing. “Each side has a number printed on it. One goes in the bucket and you keep the other. We’ll select the winner before the band starts.”

  “The Wild Bucks are playing tonight,” the teen supplied, as if Sadie should know the name. “They’re from Boston.”

  “I’m from New York.”

  “I know,” the teen said. “Everyone in town knows who you are.”

  Sadie froze. No. It wasn’t possible. Aside from her family, her ex, a handful of people at her publisher and the group at the morning show, no one knew. Not yet.

  “You’re Laurel’s twin,” the teen continued. “The one living at Aunt Lou’s. With Logan.”

  Relief hit her fast and fierce. Her secret was safe. But soon, it wouldn’t be a secret. In a few weeks, she wouldn’t be identified as Laurel’s twin. Everyone she met would look at her and see MJ Lane, erotica writer.

  “Annie,” Cindy said, her voice filled with warning as she continued to tear tickets.

  “What? It explains why she bought so many tickets.”

  It did, but Sadie wasn’t about to advertise that fact to Mount Pleasant’s under-eighteen set.

  Annie stopped tearing and looked up at Sadie. “Jane, Logan’s wife, was my third-grade teacher. I was in her last class before she switched to teaching special-needs kindergarteners.”

  “Annie, that’s enough,” Cindy said, tearing faster and faster. She was probably worried Sadie would change her mind about the five hundred tickets now that she knew Jane, Logan’s late wife, had been vying for sainthood. Another detail her twin could have mentioned.

  “She sounds lovely,” Sadie said. “I’m sure you miss her.”

  Cindy quickly finished tearing and held out the tickets. “Here you go. Thank you so much for supporting our raffle.”

  “This town has welcomed me with open arms. I’m just happy to have a way to give back.”

  Judging from the looks on their faces, neither Cindy nor Annie believed her. Sadie gathered her tickets, stuffed them in her purse and fled to the food stand before the teen said another word about Logan’s late wife.

  Holding a corn dog on a stick, Sadie wandered the festival hoping to run into Logan. No such luck. But she watched the 4-H kids march down Main Street with their farm animals. Parade was not the word she’d use for the chaos created by kids leading goats down the street. The animals stopped to chew and explore everything. If it hadn’t been for the older kids bringing up the rear with the cows, they’d all probably still be there. But at seven, the crowd migrated to the stage for the raffle and Sadie followed.

  The stage consisted of raised platforms. Two large lighting booms stood on either side and there were a number of speakers on stands. A wooden dance floor extended in front of the stage. Long rectangular tables, each decorated with their own theme, were scattered about the street behind the dance floor.

  Hoisting her overflowing purse onto her shoulder, Sadie found a place for the big announcement. If they called one of her numbers, it might take her all night to find the matching ticket. But she liked her odds of winning a date with Logan. And standing on the dance floor surrounded by women, she felt better about her investment.

  Cindy took the stage, mic in hand. Two teenage boys wearing T-shirts that read Stage Crew Mount Pleasant High Drama Department followed Cindy. Between them, they carried a large wooden container built like a book. Sadie would bet her raffle tickets the boys had helped build the bin. Everything about the Summer Festival lacked professional polish, but there was something downright sweet about how everyone in town contributed.

  Part of her understood why her sister liked living here. Family had always come first for Laurel.
And here, the community was like one giant extended family. There weren’t a lot of jobs, certainly not high-paying ones, but everyone got by.

  For Sadie, just getting by would never be enough. But her success came at a high price. Her relationships suffered. And soon, her career would strip away her anonymity, too.

  But not today. She was still Sadie, Laurel’s sister, hoping to win a date with a handsome soldier at the town festival.

  “Welcome to Summer Festival!” Cindy’s voice boomed through the PA system, echoing against the buildings that lined Main Street. “I hope you all brought your dancing shoes. Tonight, all the way from Boston, we have The Wild Bucks performing. Some of you might remember the lead singer, Trey Smith, a recent graduate of Mount Pleasant High!”

  The crowd roared their approval.

  “But before Trey takes the stage, we need to pick our raffle winner! The lucky ticket holder will win lunch with our local hero, U.S. Army Ranger Logan Reed. Aren’t we fortunate to have him home safe and sound on leave for our festival this year? Logan, raise your hand.”

  Again the crowd screamed and cheered, turning their attention to Logan, who stood off to the right side of the stage. He’d dressed for the occasion in jeans and a white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. She couldn’t see his feet, but Sadie guessed he’d worn his cowboy boots. And she had a feeling she wasn’t the only woman in the crowd picturing what he looked like without the clothes.

  He raised his hand, but judging from the expression on his face, he wasn’t thrilled by the reception. Or maybe he was trying to keep up the “stage fright” excuse, knowing if he didn’t, Cindy would drag him up on stage.

  “Before I reach into the book bin built by the high school drama club, I wanted to give you the final dollar amount raised,” Cindy continued. “This year, we made a record seven hundred and fifty-three dollars!”

  Another thunderous shout of approval from the group gathered by the stage, which, Sadie noted, had seemingly doubled since Cindy had started talking. Men, women and children of all ages gathered around.

  “Now for the drawing. I’ve asked Mrs. Gracel, our school librarian, to do the honors.” A young woman, probably close to Sadie’s age, climbed the makeshift stairs to the bin. Smiling at the audience, she closed her eyes and made a show of reaching her hand inside.

  Only a few seconds passed before Mrs. Gracel handed over the chosen ticket, but it felt like forever. Probably because Sadie had forgotten to breathe. She wanted to win. Badly.

  “And the winner is...ticket number 5218!”

  The crowd fell silent while everyone checked their tickets. Sadie opened her bag, silently cursing Cindy and the raffle organizers for not issuing tickets numbered one through seven hundred and fifty-three.

  “I won,” a high-pitched, clear voice announced.

  Sadie looked up from her bag, expecting to see an eager young woman running to claim her prize—Logan.

  Instead, a child who looked to be about ten quietly made her way through the crowd. The audience applauded, but the girl offered no sign of excitement. She simply walked up on stage and handed her ticket to Cindy.

  “Congratulations, Charlotte!” Cindy said into the mic. She pointed off the other side of the stage. “He’s waiting for you right over there. Go claim your prize.”

  She watched Charlotte march off the stage, still no signs of a smile. But even from a distance she could see the girl’s hands trembling slightly. Poor thing was probably nervous. Sadie shook her head. Logan had been so worried about the single women trying to cozy up to him, he’d forgotten about the people who saw him for what he was—a living, breathing hero.

  * * *

  LOGAN HAD SURVIVED the raffle. But he still had to face the winner. Judging from the grim expression on ten-year-old Charlotte Matthews’s face, she was on a mission. Logan had followed an Afghan warlord into battle, a man he wasn’t sure he could trust, while riding a horse for the first time, and he’d never flinched. But watching Charlotte march over to him, he felt a stab of panic. What if she was writing an article for her fourth-grade paper about his latest mission?

  He’d gone to school with Charlotte’s mother. She’d been on the cheerleading squad with Jane. How was he going to get through lunch if he refused to answer the kid’s questions? Christ, just thinking about it made him feel like a jerk.

  “Mr. Reed.” Charlotte stood in front of him, her hand extended.

  Logan shook her small hand. “You can call me Logan.”

  The little girl nodded solemnly and looked him straight in the eye. “Did you know my dad? He was a hero. Like you.”

  Logan heard that one word—was—and he remembered. Charlotte Matthews’s father had died last year. Right around the same time Jane had passed away. He’d been hit by an IED while on patrol in Afghanistan. Before he’d bled out from his injuries, he’d pulled three men to safety. The man defined hero.

  Standing in front of his little girl, Logan felt like a fraud. “I did.”

  Charlotte nodded. “Did you work with him?”

  “No. We served in different parts of the army.”

  “Oh.”

  That one word held a world of disappointment. This child had been hoping to learn more about her dad. She didn’t want to write about him or expose his failures. She craved a connection to someone she’d loved and lost. For months after Jane’s death, Logan had wanted the same thing.

  But he was a grown man. And he’d lost his wife slowly to illness. A foreign war fought in a place Charlotte had never seen had claimed her father’s life. A war her father had entered willingly. That had to be a hard thing to understand, doubly so for a child.

  “I’m sorry, Charlotte.” Logan knelt down on one knee so that he could look her in the eye. “You didn’t need to enter the raffle to ask me about your dad. I can ask Cindy for your dollar back.”

  “No. I won,” she said stubbornly. “I want to go to lunch.”

  If winning meant something to her, he wouldn’t be the one to take that away. He’d take her to lunch and answer her questions. He’d feel like an impostor trying to fill the shoes of the war hero Charlotte wanted to see, but he would not disappoint her.

  “When do you go back?” she asked.

  “I don’t know yet. Could be anytime. If you’re free tomorrow, I can meet you in town at noon. If that’s okay with your mom.” He saw a hint of relief in her blue eyes. “We can go anywhere you want.”

  Charlotte nodded. “I’ll meet you in front of Abagail’s. Noon tomorrow.”

  Logan nodded. “I’ll call your mom tonight to confirm, okay?”

  He stood and watched Charlotte disappear into the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Sadie waiting patiently out of earshot. But as soon as Charlotte walked away, she came over.

  The fabric of her sundress shifted around her legs, drawing attention to her smooth thighs. One look and he remembered what it felt like to run his hands over her skin. Logan welcomed the distraction, knowing he wasn’t in the mood to act on it.

  She’d lost the raffle, but that didn’t change the fact that he was going to take her out on a date. He enjoyed her company, plain and simple. He’d never met a woman who could sit quietly while he repaired a fence, seemingly unconcerned by the silence. She drew out his secrets and still accepted him—wanted him.

  She stopped by his side. “Sorry, I did my best.” Sadie held up her ticket-filled purse as evidence and Logan chuckled.

  “Look on the bright side,” she said. “Charlotte probably won’t consider lunch with you a ‘date.’ She looks like a sensible girl. I’m sure she knows she is too young for you.”

  “I don’t know about that. She talked me into having lunch at Abagail’s ice cream parlor tomorrow.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I think I would have pref
erred a real date.”

  “I’m still game for dinner.”

  Another woman would have tried to find out why one little girl disturbed him. But not Sadie. She kept things light. He appreciated that she didn’t press him—more than she could imagine.

  “Good thing,” he said, trying to match her playful tone and failing. “I made plans for tomorrow night.”

  He heard someone call his name and knew it was time to clear the area. He couldn’t handle small talk. Not tonight.

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, Logan turned and started walking away from the stage toward the roadblocks at the edge of Main Street. A number of people looked ready to approach him, but he picked up the pace and kept his head down. He’d done his part, letting them raffle him off, and look where it had landed him.

  Sadie fell in beside him, linking her arm through his. “Where are we going?”

  “Hadn’t given it much thought.”

  “How about we circle back, sticking to the roads running parallel to Main Street? I’ll run in and grab a couple of beers and cotton candy.” Steering him with her arm, she led him down a side street. “The B and B in town has a balcony on the second story. What do you say we sneak in and watch the festival from up there?”

  “Sure you don’t want to dance? Enjoy yourself?”

  She shook her head. “When I was a kid, I loved watching the world move around me. I would go to the playground, find the highest perch and watch the kids play. I think it is part of the reason why New York City works for me. There are so many places to sit and observe people.”

  Her plan—beer, junk food and a quiet place—sounded a helluva lot better than his. He’d thought he would walk until the festival started to wind down and then head back to his truck.

  “I could go for a beer,” he said. “But let’s skip the inn. Too crowded with folks visiting for the festival. Town hall should be open and I know how to access the roof.”

  It was like the bookstore all over again, the way they were embarking on a “mission” to escape the world. He watched her disappear into the festival crowd. Sadie. She bubbled with laughter and fun—when he needed it most.