Falling for Leigh. Jennifer Snow

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СКАЧАТЬ I...” Leigh shifted from one leg to the other. Crap, crap, double crap. She knew she had to help—she had offered after all, but...

      “I’ll pay you.” She heard his cool, distant desperation. The sound of a man hating the words coming out of his own mouth.

      She hesitated, searching for a way out of this. Sure, she felt guilty, but since her divorce...she just didn’t want to spend time with a man this good-looking. Or any man, really. Didn’t want any possibility of romantic entanglements in her near future. “I don’t know when I’ll have time. I have the kids every day, during the day—well, Monday to Friday at least.”

      Logan grimaced.

      “Yes, I know how you feel about children,” Leigh said, rolling her eyes. Heartless man. Who didn’t love children? Most men her age were looking to settle down, have a family. Which was why she found herself single at thirty-eight.

      Everyone in town knew about her inability to have a child.

      The fact that everybody knew her personal failure—the one loss in her life she still grieved almost every minute of every day—was the only aspect of living in Brookhollow she didn’t like.

      She didn’t blame the men for keeping their distance, though. Her own husband hadn’t been able to deal with her infertility.

      “What about evenings?” he said.

      Evenings. Her alone time...her books...her bubble baths...

      “Please, Leigh.”

      Exhaling slowly, she said, “Okay.” She would regret this. She just knew it.

      “Thank you.” The words were choked out. Clearly, he didn’t use them often.

      Opening the door a little wider, she said, “The kids are usually gone by five-thirty, so if you want to come over around six.”

      Logan shook his head. “I was hoping we could work at the bed-and-breakfast. My stuff is scattered all over the place.” He paused when he registered her reluctance. “What?”

      “You’re not from a small town, are you?”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I can’t come over to your room at the bed-and-breakfast every night. Rumors would spread through town so fast.” Rumors kept Brookhollow alive with excitement.

      Logan frowned. “Who cares what people think?”

      “I do. You get to leave once your book is done.” She lowered her voice, “But I—” she pointed to herself “—live here.” Folding her arms, she said, “No way. In fact, my place isn’t really an option, either.” A handsome stranger entering her house every night...she could only imagine what her grandmother Norris would have to say if she found out.

      For too long her life had been the topic of conversation in the local diner, beauty salon and just about anywhere people congregated in town.

      “Well, where?”

      Leigh considered the options. If he was trying to keep a low profile around town, there weren’t many. Finally she said, “How about the gazebo in the backyard of the bed-and-breakfast? It’s heated, with a picnic table and lighting, and it’s secluded enough in the back corner of the yard near all the big trees that no one will notice.”

      “Outside?”

      “Yes.”

      “It’s October. It’s absolutely freezing once the sun sets.” Logan shivered to prove his point. “Isn’t there a library or something?”

      “Just about everything closes around here at six. Besides, if you want to keep your presence quiet—a public place isn’t really going to work, is it?” She waited. If he wanted her help, they did it her way or not at all. She didn’t need anything or anyone complicating her life.

      Logan let out a deep breath. “Okay, fine.” He stared down at his offending wrist, weighted down as it must have been by the plaster, and turned to leave. “Tomorrow at six in the gazebo.”

      Wonderful. She prayed his book was almost finished. “Can’t wait.”

      “Lying really isn’t your thing,” he called over his shoulder.

       CHAPTER TWO

      THE NEXT MORNING, Logan hesitated before opening the email from his lawyer, Eric James. The Manhattan Family Law Group didn’t waste time or their client’s money emailing without a good reason. Lately, whenever he heard from them, it was bad news, and he wasn’t sure he could handle the stress that morning. His hand and wrist throbbed, and the painkillers they’d prescribed at the clinic didn’t seem to help.

      The message was marked urgent. There was no avoiding it. Opening it, he scanned it quickly.

      Kendra’s lawyer had requested a financial statement. Fantastic. He had known that sooner or later she would play that card. Supporting his daughter with his writing was possible, given his investments and the royalties from his upcoming release, but his lawyer had cautioned him that proving his income in court might be challenging. Self-employed parents without medical benefits had a tougher time convincing the judge they could offer the best support.

      Another reason he had to finish this book. Frustrated, he stood. The issues in his personal life were driving him to distraction and preventing him from writing, yet if he didn’t write, things in his personal life would be even worse. Without a steady income, no judge would award him custody of Amelia.

      Lying on the bed, he closed his eyes, fighting to control the desperation and hopelessness he couldn’t escape.

      Hours later, he sat on the wooden bench under the shelter of the gazebo. The October setting sun cast a glare across his laptop screen as he readjusted the computer into the shade. At least it wasn’t cold inside the heated space. Checking his watch, he stood: 5:58. Where was she?

      He checked his watch again. Still 5:58. Time honestly passed slower in this small town, he was convinced of it. Two days before, that had been part of its original appeal; not anymore. He sat back down on the bench.

      The sound of crunching leaves caught his attention. In the dusk, he saw Leigh—in a pair of baggy, faded jeans and a T-shirt with a sweater thrown over her shoulders—carrying a brown wicker basket. She smiled wearily as she approached.

      She looked about as excited to do this as he was. He moved some of his papers aside to make room for the basket.

      “I brought some snacks, in case,” she said, sliding her arms into her sweater and tugging it down over her head.

      “I’m not hungry...thanks.” He opened his notebook to the pages to be transcribed. “So, here is where I left off typing.” He pointed to the middle of the page and moved the mouse to bring up the document.

      Leigh busied herself with the basket, taking out a Thermos and pouring coffee into a mug. She took out a raspberry muffin and a plastic container of butter, then napkins and plastic cutlery. And then...a fruit tray?

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