Falling for Leigh

“I’m sure,” Logan snapped. He raked his left hand through his hair and rubbed his four-day-old beard.

Leigh frowned, took another quick bite of the muffin and turned her attention to his notebook. “Okay, sorry. I’m listening. So, these are your notes.” She squinted, leaning closer to the scribbled writing on the yellow legal pad.

“No, this is the first draft of the book,” Logan said, betraying his exasperation. He hated to be sharing this with anyone. The first draft was always written in haste, without care to grammar and punctuation. Sometimes he skipped over names. Not exactly a polished, finished product.

“And you wrote this before you broke your hand?”

Logan looked at the tiny chicken scratches. So they were hard to read. “That’s why we need to do this together. I’ll read it as you type.” He picked up the pad of paper and gestured for Leigh to take a seat in front of the laptop. “Ready?”

“Okay, go.” Her hands poised midair, she waited. “Go slowly, I wasn’t lying when I said I can’t type.”

Logan cleared his throat and opened his mouth. Nothing came out.... Reading his own unedited passages to her would be pure torture. He would find something wrong with each line. He usually did a round of editing as he transcribed.

Leigh turned to him. “You can’t read your writing, either?”

Logan tossed the pad back onto the table. “This isn’t going to work.”

Leigh held her hands up. “I’m sorry, I won’t make any more jokes.” She popped a chunk of muffin into her mouth and poised her hands over the keys. “Ready,” she said, her mouth full, a crumb falling onto the keys.

Sliding the laptop away from her, Logan picked it up and closed the lid. “Never mind,” he said as he unzipped his laptop case and shoved the computer inside.

“I don’t understand.” Leigh stared up at him. “I thought you needed help.”

He gathered his notes. “I do, but...” He paused as he stood. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re probably right, but now I just think you’re a little crazy, so...”

The look on her face indicated she did indeed think he was crazy and he laughed, surprising himself.

And her. Her mouth dropped but to her credit, she recovered quickly. “Nice to see you’re actually capable of a smile,” she said, moving over on the bench to make room for him. She picked up her coffee and took a sip.

Reluctantly, he sat. “The thing is...I never let people read my work until it’s done.”

“Yes, you mentioned that.”

“And this book is unique in that it’s the last book in a series.” Did she know who he was? “The Van Gardener series.” He paused, waited.

She blinked. No recognition showed on her face, which he couldn’t help noticing was flawless in the glow of the setting sun.

“You don’t know it?” Could he really had stumbled upon one of the few people who hadn’t heard about the series, or his inability to finish it? One of the few who hadn’t read the extensive media coverage about his separation and his custody battle for Amelia...or the articles speculating he’d dropped off the map because of alcohol and/or drug addictions?

“No, I’m sorry if I should. I am an avid reader...I’m just not into suspense-filled mysteries.” She shuddered.

The tension of the past twenty-four hours eased a little. It was nice to meet someone with no preconceived opinions about him. “I guess it’s not really the kind of book you read to preschoolers,” he said, wiggling his fingers inside the cast.

“Itchy?” Leigh gestured toward the cast. “Every summer at least one of my kids—my day-care kids, I mean—breaks something or other. Thankfully not under my watch,” she added, reaching for a plastic fork. “Here, try this.” She handed it to him.

He took it and slid it into the cast. Instant relief. “Ah...”

“Better?”

“Much.” He tried to hand her back the fork.

She grimaced. “Keep it.”

He laughed again. Wow, twice in five minutes, more than he’d laughed in months.

“So, are we going to do this, given that I have no idea who you are or anything about the series?” Leigh waited, watching him over the rim of her coffee cup.

Logan hesitated. She had the most trustworthy face; her sincerity and genuine nature shone in her eyes. Probably why she was so great with children. Children could distinguish real honesty and affection.

Leigh checked her watch. “We’re wasting time,” she said, “and I have more muffins.”

“Okay. But I need you to sign something.” Tearing out a piece of paper, he glanced from it to his left hand. She’d have to write their agreement. He held out his silver monogrammed pen, his favorite, the only one he ever used. “I need you to write that you won’t reveal the contents of this book to anyone.”

She took the pen and wrote.

He watched in silence.

She paused and glanced toward him. “Anything else?”

That pretty much captured what he needed from her in a nutshell. “Just sign and date it, please.”

Leigh did as he asked and handed it back. “This book is a big deal, huh?”

He used to think so. The series had dominated his every waking thought for seven years, losing him his one and only serious relationship, his friendships and his sanity. Now he just wanted to finish it, dig himself out from the shadow of doubt and regain confidence in his abilities as a writer, in his own eyes as well as those of the court that would be deciding his and his daughter’s fate. “Yeah, it’s a big deal.”

* * *

TWO DAYS LATER, Leigh peered around the corner of Main Street. The town’s leasing office was above the bank and she was desperate to avoid her ex-husband’s new wife, Angela Conway, one of the only real-estate agents in town.

Living in the same town with the couple and their two young children was tough, and Angela’s office was two doors down from Leigh’s grandmother’s bakery. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the woman, and she wasn’t jealous of the life she and Neil shared with the family she hadn’t been able to give him...of course not.

Logan was right, she really wasn’t good at lying, not even to herself.

As she moved quickly past the brick office building, she waved to Kimberley Mitchell, one of the bank-loans officers, staring out her ground-floor office window with her phone cradled to her shoulder. Then, head down, eyes glued to the brick-patterned sidewalk, Leigh continued on, pretending not to hear Angela’s voice as she called from a window overhead.

She paused for effect when she heard the second, louder “Leigh!”, glancing in every direction but the one she knew the sound was coming from and then continued in a hurry. She heard her call again, but this time she dove around the side of Pearl’s Petals, the flower shop on the corner across from her grandmother’s bakery.

How was she going to get across the street without Angela seeing her? A quick glance revealed she was still waiting at the open window. She ducked her head back around the corner.

“Who are we hiding from?” a man whispered inches from her right ear.

Leigh jumped, her hand flying to her chest, knocking over a row of small potted plants on the outside sale table display at Pearl’s.

Logan dove for one pot before it fell off the table. He caught it easily in his left hand and set it back carefully, straightening the others and brushing the scattered leaves and dirt off the white tablecloth.

“Thanks,” Leigh said. She would’ve hated to have to buy all of those plants if she’d broken them. Children were her area of expertise—plants not so much. “And I’m not hiding,” she said, but she suspected her flaming cheeks gave her away. Gingerly, she touched the leaves on a plant she’d never be able to name if asked. “I’m shopping.” Pretending to be interested in one, she picked it up and examined it.