Finding Home (Montana Born Homecoming Book 2) (6 page)

“Do we have any announcements from the congregation?” asked the minister.

From a pew near the front, Logan stood up. Her pulse quickened. Even from a distance, Samara could see the kindness in his eyes.

“I’d like to remind everyone of the pancake breakfast to raise funds for Homecoming this year.” He turned around, scanning the crowd to address everyone. “I know I’m officially on the wrong side, but I’m on my own time right now. And you all know I’m a Marietta boy at heart.”

Titters floated over the room. Logan seemed to have the ability to throw himself fully into his job in Livingston, while remaining a loyal home-town boy. Apparently, even the upcoming Livingston-Marietta high school football game didn’t cause any awkwardness.

“Volunteers are still welcome and remember, all the money raised goes to purchasing more and better equipment for the students of Marietta High School. I hope to see you all at the school gym on Saturday, October fourth. Don’t forget your appetites – or your wallets. Thank you.”

Samara remembered when Logan had been running for school council way back when they were students. His passionate campaigning even managed to garner support from the grumpy drive-in theater owner, who donated a bunch of midnight matinee tickets.

Despite her fear of losing his attention, she had known he deserved to win.

It was tough to resist Logan’s enthusiasm.

It was seductive.

A shiver ran over Samara’s body.

His enthusiasm ran to everything. She’d never felt so completely cherished as she had those months when she was Logan’s girlfriend.

And unlike some of the boys she met later, Logan’s adoration wasn’t simply a ploy to get into her pants.

He’d touched her as if she was the most perfect thing in the world. He electrified her, made her come alive, made her burn, made her want to spend every waking moment with him and be as close as she could, whenever they were together.

She shifted in her pew. It had gotten hot in the church.

And her thoughts were moving in a direction that would probably get her kicked out, if any of them happened to show on her face.

The minister made his closing remarks and the service ended. As the postlude began, sending chimes of organ music swelling around them, people got to their feet, collecting their bulletins and notices and replacing hymnals.

A very properly attired woman a few rows ahead turned and stared directly at her, as if waiting for this moment. Samara’s cheeks prickled with heat. Oh dear. With her luck, she was sitting in church, fantasizing about Logan, right behind a bona fide psychic, with a puritanical bent.

The church lady elbowed her way in closer, making a beeline for them as the congregation drifted past them out of the sanctuary.

“What a darling little girl,” she said when she reached them.

The comment sounded less like a compliment and more like a cue for
what big teeth you have, granny.

Samara leaned closer to Jade. “Thank you.”

“I’m Carol Bingley.” Granny-wolf paused expectantly.

Samara forced herself to smile. “I’m Samara Davis, this is my daughter, Jade and this is her dog, Bob. Nice to meet you.”

“Yes, I see. A dog. In church. Your child doesn’t appear disabled.”

Carol Bingley had set her trap and now she waited.

Bob was a service-dog reject, which sounded harsh but made her perfect for them: more skilled than the average canine, but without the price tag..

Of course, official service-dog status or not, Bob stirred curiosity and Samara hated all the questioning that followed when she tried to explain.

“I was told-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m close friends with the minister,” said Carol Bingley. “I’ll be sure to speak to him for you.”

I’ll be sure to let him know you broke the rules.

Message received, thought Samara.

Then the woman leaned over the pew and peered down at Jade. Sam felt her daughter grow still and withdraw into herself, growing smaller, tighter, tenser. Bob got to her feet and pushed herself between Jade and the woman leaning over the pew, but the angles were wrong and it did nothing to reassure the girl.

“Hello, sweetheart.” She used that slightly too loud, slightly too high voice that Samara hated.

Jade flinched, hating it even more. Bob whined, sensing her girl’s growing agitation. It was one of those short slice-of-time moments in which the differences in tiny family stood out so acutely that it triggered a terrible sense of loneliness.

Jade wasn’t like other little girls. She wasn’t the kind of child who took to well-meant, cheek-pinching familiarity, and if Ms. Bingley didn’t get out of Jade’s face she’d get a first-hand illustration of what that meant.

“Carol Bingley,” came a familiar voice behind them. “Aren’t you a lovely sight this fine morning?”

Logan put one hand softly on Samara’s shoulder as he eased into the pew, extending his other hand to Ms. Bingley. When she turned away from Jade to return the greeting, Logan subtly leaned in, making the woman take a step back.

Jade swallowed and her breathing lost the pre-panic quickness.

“Are you working on the pancake breakfast?” His smile was warm and crackly at the corners. “I know the committee was hoping you’d join the cooking team. Everyone remembers your contributions to the bake sales, after all.”

Carol blushed. “Well, I hadn’t been planning on it-”

“And I’m so embarrassed to admit that it’s my fault you haven’t been asked until now.” He shook his head with a self-deprecating grimace. “I asked for the privilege of contacting our more prominent community members to assist with various tasks, and then immediately lost my list. Thank goodness I saw you standing here today. So save me from my own inadequacies, please? Tell me you’ll lend your talents to the pancake breakfast?”

The entire time, he’d been gently drawing her into the aisle, where he managed to insert himself between her and the little family behind him. Samara marvelled at his timing, gratitude flooding over her.

How did he
do
that?

As Logan escorted Carol Bingley to the foyer, he cut a quick glance at Samara. He hadn’t addressed either her or Jade during the brief interchange, but if Sam had any doubts as to his true intention, they disappeared. The jocular smile faded, as if it was a mask, bumped askew momentarily. The lines on his face slipped into concern, maybe apology, maybe even uncertainty. He lifted his eyebrows in a “you okay?” expression.

Sam nodded, feeling warmth flush into her cheeks. Then Bob nudged her leg. Jade was standing, her restless feet indicating their next stop should be a ladies’ room and quick. She picked Jade up, knowing she’d rather walk, but unwilling to risk another close encounter. When they made their way through the foyer, to find the washrooms, Logan was nowhere in sight.

*

During the shaking
of what seemed like a hundred hands, Logan lost sight of Sam and Jade.

“Hey buddy.”

“Dawson!” chided the pretty red head beside him. “How are you, Logan?”

Logan rubbed his arm. A good-natured punch from a champion bullrider wasn’t something you ignored.

Logan and Sage Carrigan had both grown up in Marietta, but she was a few years behind him. A former barrel racer, she’d left competition to open Copper Mountain Chocolate, but it had been through rodeo that she’d first met Dawson O’Dell. Now it appeared that Dawson and his daughter, Savannah, had settled in Marietta for good. Since he understood wedding bells were in their future, Logan guessed that Sage was the reason.

“Did I see you chatting with a cute brunette a moment ago?” continued Sage. “Who is she?”

He explained, then added, “Her daughter, Jade, is a little younger than Savannah here. You might want to introduce them sometime.”

“Absolutely,” said Dawson, ruffling his daughter’s hair. “This one’s always ready to expand her social circle.”

Maybe precocious Savannah was just the thing to bring Jade out of her shell.

“And,” said Sage, “you should stop by the shop. I’ll make you up a special Welcome-to-Marietta chocolate basket for Samara. She’ll love it.”

Of course. He should have thought of it himself.

“She’s got this salted caramel thing that will earn you major points,” said Dawson. “The ladies love it.”

“I shouldn’t say this in church.” Sage looked down, and dropped her voice to a whisper. “But it’s been called orgasmic.”

With that word, for a split second, everyone around him disappeared. Logan imagined putting a tiny square of rich, smooth candy onto Samara’s tongue, watching her lips move as she savored it, kissing her, sharing the sweet, silky heat. What sound would she make when the flavor hit the back of her mouth? Would she moan? Would she ask for more?

“It’s a gift that keeps on giving,” added Dawson, waggling his eyebrows.

Logan swallowed hard, and forced himself back to reality. What was wrong with him, having thoughts like this in church?

A lot of assumptions were being made, he realized suddenly. Premature assumptions. Way premature.

“Uh, actually, Samara and I are just friends.”

“Okay.” Sage laughed. “If you say so.”

“Did you hear yourself?” Dawson shook his head. “I hope you don’t play poker.”

Yeah, he had heard himself. Pathetic. Completely unconvincing.

Because he himself wasn’t convinced, and wasn’t even trying.

How could he and Samara ever be just friends?

Sage and Dawson left, just as another shoulder brushed against his.

“Good to see you, Logan,” said Skye, secretary at Marietta High. “You’ll be cheering for Marietta, I hear.”

“Of course,” he answered with a broad wink.

He and Skye weren’t close but they’d known each other forever and saw each other frequently at school events. It was a relief to have the spotlight shift from Samara to the all-encompassing start to football season.

Like everyone associated with the schools, he was eagerly anticipating Homecoming. With two players in his student group – Flynn playing for Marietta and Josh for Livingston – he had to watch the trash talking. Mostly, he deflected it to himself, the traitor-teacher or, as he liked to say, Switzerland. All in good fun, and at game time it certainly got the crowd going.

But it occurred to him that Samara’s arrival during this time made it tough to focus on football. If she moved in on Friday –
when
she moved in on Friday, he amended – he wouldn’t be able to attend the game, knowing she was buried under a mountain of boxes.

The crowd was thinning and still, he hadn’t found Sam. Maybe she’d gotten away without him noticing.

He heard a child’s angry shriek, cut off sharply. Then a dog barked and he saw them, huddled on the ground next to Samara’s car in the church parking lot.

He jogged closer. “Everything okay?” he asked.

Jade was sitting on the ground, digging a hole in the gravel with her feet, her face set stubbornly. Samara squatted on her heels, distraught.

“She thought there was a playground here.” She grimaced. “Probably because I said there was. I keep expecting things to be like they were fourteen years ago.”

The dog was stretched out between them, halfway lying on the little girl’s lap. Samara sighed and stroked the glossy fur.

It must be hard, thought Logan, to be the agent of your child’s disappointment. Good cop and bad cop rolled into one. And given that kids always wanted more than they could have, bad cop always got the most air-time.

Logan helped her to her feet, hoping he could help instead of making things worse.

“I wonder if you could do me a favor,” he said, angling his body away from Jade. From the corner of his eye, he saw her tip her head watchfully.

“What’s that?” said Samara with a frown.

“There’s a park across town that’s perfect for walking dogs. I love to go there on Sunday afternoons but, well, as it happens, I don’t have a dog.”

A slow smile spread across Samara’s face. “You want to borrow Bob.”

“I understand it’s a lot to ask. Dogs being as precious as they are and all. I know Jade could never part with Bob, even for a little while.” Then, he put his finger to his chin, as if the idea had just occurred to him. “You could join me if you wanted to. I guess.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” said Samara, as if it didn’t much matter one way or the other.

“She is my dog,” said a little voice, most definitely. “She is part Labrador, part Border Collie and she’s my dog.”

“Oh!” said Logan, feigning surprise. “I beg your pardon. Then I’ll ask you. Would you and Bob and your mom come with me to the park?”

“No.”

“Oh.” He sighed deeply. “Too bad. I really love that park. There’s chipmunks to feed. Not the Jade-kind, but the ones you can see. And did I mention the playground?”

“You heard Jade,” said Sam. “She said no, so that’s it.”

Jade’s face was a study in conflict.

“You’re absolutely right,” said Logan. “I understand completely.”

“Wait,” said Jade, scrambling to her feet. “Playground?”

“You have a nice day, ladies,” said Logan, turning to leave.

“Mama!” cried Jade. “Let’s go to the park with him!”