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“Are you concerned? About the fame?”
Sadie laughed. “It will be a hot story for a day, maybe two. After that, the mystery will be gone and no one will care. I’m a writer, not a movie star.”
He rolled again. Five. Sadie’s property, and it housed a hotel. He counted out the bills and handed her the payment. “What about your family? Are they on board with the media circus? Even if it only lasts a day or two?”
“Laurel supports me. I know she appreciates the checks I send each month. And if the tables were turned, she’d do the same for me.” Sadie took the bills and added them to her piles. “My dad? I think he’d prefer his monthly checks came from somewhere else. He gets some benefits for his years of service, but he got out early and healthy, so not much. And he spent everything he ever made on us until I started working.”
“I’m sure he’s proud of you.”
“I think he would have preferred I stuck with waiting tables, even if it meant less money. To be honest, I thought I’d be working in restaurants for a long time. I never expected my book to take off. I just knew I wanted to write.
“And my dad sacrificed so much for us that I want to be the best at what I do. Not just for him, but for myself, too.”
“Did you always want to be a writer?”
“No.” Sadie rolled. Another ten and another visit to one of her railroads. “There was a time, back in high school, when I was convinced I wanted to join the marines. Like my dad. But I had all these stories to tell and I realized I couldn’t do both. Maybe some people could make it work, but I tend to throw myself into something one hundred percent. In this case, writing.”
“A good quality.” He took the dice, but didn’t roll. If he landed on her property one more time, the game would be over. He wasn’t ready to stop playing yet. “You would have made a great marine.”
“Maybe.” She cocked her head. “What about you? Why did you join the army?”
“I didn’t want to be a farmer my entire life. I like raising cows and working Aunt Lou’s land. I’ll probably move back here and take over for her one day, but I wanted to get out for a while.” He looked down at the dice in his hand. “I also lost a few friends. On 9/11. We were just out of college and a couple of guys I knew went to work on Wall Street, to get away from Vermont for a while. I’d moved back home, married and was settling down. Only I wasn’t settled. I wanted more.
“After I joined, I set my sights on becoming a ranger.” He shrugged. “Then, I didn’t want to leave. Still don’t. I’m not ready to trade jumping out of helicopters and riding horses through war zones for herding cows full-time. I love my job, Sadie.”
She nodded. Logan waited for her to press for more, ask about when Jane demanded that he choose between his marriage and his career. She was probably wondering if he’d been up for farm life then. The answer was no, he hadn’t been ready. But he likely would have left anyway. He knew it didn’t reflect well on him that he probably would have held it against her, and their marriage might have failed anyway.
“It’s your turn.” She nodded her head toward the dice in his hand.
Just like that she let the subject drop, accepting he’d tell her when he could.
“I have a bad feeling about this one.” He rolled and, sure enough, landed on another one of her properties. “I can’t pay the rent. I’m out of cash. So that’s it. Game over.”
Sadie smiled, her eyes sparkling like a cat that’d caught a mouse. “I’ll take your shirt.”
Logan raised an eyebrow. “Strip Monopoly?”
“I’m going to get you out of it sooner or later, might as well hand it over now.”
He reached behind him and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Balling it up, he tossed it at her.
Sadie caught it and set it down by her side, not once looking away. “The way you look without your shirt? I like that about you.”
Logan laughed, the tension easing from his body. It was as if Sadie sensed his limits and respected them. She understood he didn’t want to focus on pain, loss and the past. He wanted to laugh. And right now, get naked. With her.
“I could keep rolling the dice, sacrificing an article of clothing each time,” he said. “Or I could hand over everything right now and crown you the winner.”
Her eyes widened. “For a soldier you certainly wave the white flag quickly.”
“I think it is worth sacrificing my freedom to be your prisoner.”
She looked him over. “Okay, soldier, I’ll take your socks.”
Logan pushed to his feet. One by one, he removed his socks and tossed them at her. “Next?”
She tapped one finger to her pursed lips. Every time she did that, he remembered the bookstore—that first day when he’d run into her and she’d teased and joked with him. “Not much left,” she said. “I think it is time to hand over your pants.”
Logan unbuttoned his jeans, and then slowly drew the zipper down. He hooked his thumbs in the top of his boxers and pulled them down with his jeans. Stepping out of his pants, he kicked them over to her.
