Command Control

He set down his empty sandwich wrapper. The man ate as if it was a race. Or maybe he was used to having to eat and run? She’d never been to a war

zone, but she could image there wasn’t a lot of time to sit around and savor a meal.

“I’m sure you could teach me a thing or two,” she said.

“About some things,” he said, his voice low. “But I get the feeling you could broaden my horizons.”

“Maybe.” Seeing him in those cowboy boots, she wanted the opportunity. “But I’m still struggling with the no-whips thing. I think you should reconsider.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.”

Finally, he’d relaxed. He didn’t have that distant look in his eyes anymore. She watched as he drew his leg up, resting his foot on the rock. His boots were worn and dusty. They looked like they’d been to battle and back.

“It is true you rode a horse through Afghanistan?”

His laughter vanished and she wished she could take her question back. Better to keep him talking about kinky sex. Instead, she’d stuck her foot in her mouth and they were back to square one.

He studied her as if looking for some clue. “Sure you’re not a reporter?”

“Not even close. Fiction only. I swear.”

“I don’t read much these days. I read the last Lee Child. Is that similar to what you write?”

“No. I’ve only published one book,” she said, leaving out the international-bestseller part. “But it was a story about a young woman’s journey to self-discovery. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes, I did ride a horse on my last mission.”

She pictured him mounted on a wild black stallion, his gun drawn as he raced into battle. That image—part Wild West, part Rambo—sent a shiver through her body. Of course, the reality was probably very different from the romantic version in her head. “Not going to tell me any more?”

“I can’t talk about my missions.”

“I can live with that. Just imagining you on a horse in your uniform? That’s pretty sexy.” She set her hand on his thigh. His muscles tensed beneath her touch. And that, more than any fanciful story she’d created about his top-secret mission, turned her on.

“Probably wouldn’t think that if you’d been there. None of us knew how to ride and our horses looked like they should have been put out to pasture a decade before we arrived.”

Sadie cocked her head to one side, pretending to reconsider. “Nope. Still sexy.”

He looked at her, his brow furrowed. Then he turned away, shaking his head. “If you say so.”

“I do.” She moved her hand an inch up his leg. “Before I pin you to this rock and take advantage of you, cowboy, I think there was something you wanted to tell me.”

Her hand stilled as she watched his expression transform, desire taking a backseat to something that looked an awful lot like regret. So much for trying to keep the mood light and playful. One look at him now and she’d never suspect this man had been joking moments earlier. He looked ready to face a firing squad.

But if he couldn’t kiss her until he revealed his big secret, then she refused to let him off the hook now. She wanted a kiss from this cowboy soldier.

“Logan?”

He placed his hand over hers, keeping her fingers pressed against his leg. “I lost my wife. To cancer. About a year ago.”

Her eyes widened. She should have asked Laurel for more information after all. This revelation? Not something she wanted taking her by surprise.

“I’m a widower.”

7

LOGAN WATCHED AND waited for Sadie to shower him with condolences. He shouldn’t have brought her out here. Not for this. Even if he carried her back to the barn, it was a five-minute walk. More like ten at her pace. Ten excruciating minutes of listening to the woman he wanted to kiss senseless offer her heartfelt sympathy.

Her fingers pressed into his thigh, giving a light squeeze. He glanced down at their hands, his still covering hers. She probably wanted to pull away, to break the physical connection. He lifted his hand, but hers didn’t move.