3. Logan

3

LOGAN

I freeze, wrench in hand, heart pounding.

That voice. It can't be.

But then I turn, and there she is. Sierra Noelle Adams. Holy shit. She's not the girl I remember, but a stunning woman with curves that make my mouth go dry.

"Logan," she says again, softer this time.

I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. "Sierra. This is unexpected."

Twelve years. It's been twelve damn years since she left for that singing competition. I remember watching her on TV, my chest swelling with pride as she blew everyone away. My girl, living her dream.

But then everything moved so fast. One day she was here, the next she was whisked off to LA. I tried to be supportive, I really did. We talked constantly at first—texts, calls, video chats. I held onto every word, every glimpse of her new life.

Then her debut album came out. She got busier, and our talks got shorter. I'd find myself staring at my phone, willing it to ring. The day I realized we hadn't spoken in twenty-four hours, I knew I'd lost her.

It hurt like hell, but I never resented her for it. How could I? She was chasing her passion, just like I was here on the ranch.

But I never got over her.

So I did what any red-blooded Montana boy would do. I buried myself in work, convinced myself the ranch was enough. Who needs love when you've got horses to tend and fences to mend?

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Sierra is standing in front of me, looking at me with warm brown eyes, and it's like no time has passed at all.

But it has. We're not kids anymore.

"It's good to see you," I manage to say, my voice a little rougher than I'd like. I resist the urge to pull her into a hug. We don't have that closeness anymore. "What brings you back to Eagle Falls?"

"I needed a break," she says, her smile not reaching her eyes. "Thought I'd come home for a bit."

I nod, not sure what to say. There's so much I want to ask, so much I want to tell her. But the words stick in my throat.

"Do you have time to hang out for a while?" she asks, hope in her voice. "Maybe catch up?"

My heart leaps, but I keep my face neutral. "Yeah, of course," I say, wiping my hands on a rag. "Let me just finish up here."

I turn back to the tractor, giving myself a moment to collect my thoughts. She's here. Sierra's actually here. Despite my stoic reaction, I'm happy to see her. So damn happy.

But I can't let myself get carried away. She's America's Sweetheart. And I'm just...me. Logan Magnuson, rancher. Two very different worlds.

I close up the tractor's engine and face her again. I gesture toward the pastures. "All set. Want to take a walk?"

Sierra nods, falling into step beside me. The crisp autumn air gently swirls around us, smelling sweetly of apples. We walk in silence for a moment, leaves crunching beneath our feet.

"So," she says, breaking the quiet, "how's the ranch doing? It looks bigger."

I smile. "Yeah, we've expanded quite a bit. Added some new pastures, built a few more barns. With the extra space, we've been able to take on a lot more retired racehorses."

"That's amazing, Logan." Her eyes light up, reminding me of the girl who used to spend hours here, helping me brush horses while she dreamed big. "And how's your dad?"

"He's good. I keep trying to convince him to take more time off and let me handle things, but he's stubborn. I think he's in denial about turning fifty next year."

She laughs. "Yep, that sounds like him."

We reach a fallen log, and I instinctively hold out my hand to help her over. She takes it, her touch sending a jolt through me. I quickly let go once she's across.

"I've been following your career," I say, clearing my throat. "Saw you on TV last month performing at that benefit concert in New York."

She looks surprised. "You watched that?"

"Of course I did. You were great. You always are."

A faint blush colors her cheeks. "Thanks. It's been a wild ride."

We walk in silence for a bit. An old mare ambles over to the fence. Sierra's face lights up.

"Oh my god, is that Peppermint?" She reaches out, stroking the horse's nose. "Hey, beautiful. Remember me?"

Peppermint nickers softly, and I feel my chest thrum. It's almost too much, seeing the two of them interact again after all this time. It's pulling me too hard into the past.

"How long are you in town for?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

"About a month," she replies, still petting Peppermint. "I wanted to take even more time off, but it's the most I can do. I have a lot I need to get back to."

A whole month. My heartbeat quickens, but I keep my face neutral.

Sierra turns back to me, a mischievous glint in her eye. "So, no Mrs. Magnuson yet? I'm surprised some local girl hasn't snatched you up."

I laugh, hoping it doesn't sound as forced as it feels. "Nah, just me and the horses."

We start walking again, talking about how Eagle Falls has changed—and how it hasn't. The longer we talk, the easier our conversation flows.

"The Harvest Festival is coming up soon, isn't it?" Sierra asks.

"Yep. It's this weekend."

"Do they still have the apple bobbing contest?"

I throw a glance her way. "You mean the one I beat you at the last time we went?"

"What? No way!" she protests, laughing. "I definitely came up with that apple first."

"Pshhh," I say. "I distinctly remember triumphantly holding an apple up while you were still splashing around."

Sierra shoves my arm playfully. "Your memory's going, dude. I was the apple bobbing champion that year, and you know it."

For a moment, it's like we're right back where we used to be. The warmth of her smile, the playful glint in her eyes…it all feels so familiar, so right.

Then reality crashes back in. The weight of our years apart settles over us, and we both fall silent. Our easy laughter fades, replaced by an awkward tension that hangs in the air between us. I shift uncomfortably, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands or where to look.

Sierra clears her throat. "Anyway, I should probably get going. I promised my mom I'd help with some pumpkin bread thing."

I nod, trying to ignore the disappointment settling in my gut. "Right, yeah. Of course. You should get back to your family."

Sierra looks like she's going to say something else, but then just nods and gives me a soft smile. "It was really nice seeing you, Logan."

"It was really nice seeing you, too."

My heart aches like a motherfucker as I watch her walk away. Logic tells me to let her go, to not get my hopes up. She was just being polite, stopping by like this to say hello and catch up for a few minutes. It doesn't mean she wants to rekindle anything.

I know all that. And yet here I am, opening my mouth anyway.

"Hey, Adams?" I call.

She turns around, looking at me questioningly. "Yeah?"

"What do you say to an apple bobbing rematch?"

That Saturday afternoon, I pull up to Sierra's parents' house in my beat-up pickup. While waiting for her to come out, I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, nervous energy coursing through me. The front door of the house opens and I do a double-take. A woman who looks nothing like Sierra walks out.

She's got mousy brown hair falling over her shoulders, and she's wearing baggy jeans and an oversized sweater. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was someone visiting the Adams' household.

But she slides into my passenger seat, grinning at my confusion. "What's the matter, Magnuson? Cat got your tongue?"

I shake my head. "Damn. I almost didn't recognize you. What's with the get-up?"

She pulls down the sun visor, checking her reflection. "Trying to keep a low profile. I don't want to cause a stir at the festival."

"So you're telling me that's not your natural hair color?" I tease, putting the truck in gear.

She swats my arm playfully. "It's a wig, smart-ass. Now drive. I've got an apple bobbing title to defend."

The fairgrounds are packed when we arrive. The air smells like caramel apples and cinnamon, kids are running around with painted faces, and laughter mingles with the twang of folk music.

As we walk, Sierra's eyes light up at all the familiar sights. "They still have the pumpkin catapult!"

"You want to give it a shot?" I ask, nodding toward the contraption. "See if you've still got that arm?"

She narrows her eyes at me. "Is that a challenge?"

"Maybe," I say, grinning at her. "Unless you're chicken."

"Oh, it's on." She grabs my hand, pulling me toward the booth. Her touch makes my skin go hot, but I play it cool.

We each take our shots, pumpkins soaring through the air. Sierra's lands just a bit further than mine.

"Ha!" she cries triumphantly. "Still got it!"

I shake my head. "Lucky shot."

We continue walking through the festival, the air between us charged with a familiar electricity. It's so fucking nice, being with her like this. It almost feels unreal.

"So," Sierra says, bumping her shoulder against mine. "You ready to lose at apple bobbing?"

I scoff. "In your dreams, woman. I've been practicing."

She raises an eyebrow. "Oh really? You spend a lot of time dunking your head in water?"

"Maybe I do," I say. "You don't know my life."

She laughs, the sound warming me to the core. "Well, I hope you've been working on your breath control, because you're going to need it."

We make our way to the apple bobbing station, trading playful jabs the whole time. The competitive spark between us is as strong as ever.

"Ladies first," I say.

Sierra grins. "Such a gentleman. Watch and learn, cowboy."

She steps up to the tub, tying her hair back. I can't help but admire the graceful curve of her neck. The years may have gone by, but I haven't forgotten how soft her skin always felt against my lips. Or how good it felt to hear her needfully whisper my name. Or how?—

"On your mark, get set, go!" the attendant calls.

Sierra plunges her face into the water. I watch, mesmerized, as she emerges triumphantly with an apple between her teeth.

"Beat that," she challenges me, wiping her face.

I step up, determined. As I dunk my head, the cold water shocks my system. I try my hardest, but the damn apples keep slipping away. Finally, I snag one and surface.

Sierra's already cheering. "I win again!"

I can't even be mad. Her joy is infectious, and I find myself laughing along with her.

But then I notice something. People are starting to stare. A few have their phones out and are snapping pictures. Sierra's disguise is good, but it's not perfect.

Immediately, my protective instincts kick in. I lean in close, speaking low. "Sierra, I think people are recognizing you. They're taking photos."

Her smile falters. "Oh. I...I guess I should have expected that."

"We can leave," I offer.

She shakes her head. "No, no. I don't want to ruin anything. We still have a lot to see here."

I take her hand without thinking. "I don't care about that. What matters is that you're comfortable. Let's get out of here."

Sierra looks at me, her eyes soft. "You sure?"

"Positive. Come on, I know a back way out."

I guide Sierra through the crowd, my hand on the small of her back. We slip out a side gate and make our way to my truck. Once we're safe inside, I turn to her.

"You okay?"

She nods, but her smile doesn't quite convince me. "Yeah, I'm fine."

I start the engine. "I've got a place in mind we can go to, if you want."

Sierra looks at me, curiosity replacing the tension in her face. "Sure. Let's go."

I drive us out of town, across winding country roads. The trees are a blaze of red and gold in the fading light. Finally, I pull off onto a dirt track, coming to a stop at the edge of a small lake.

Sierra leans forward in her seat, drawing in an awe-filled breath. "Oh, Logan. It's still so beautiful here."

I smile, pleased to see that she approves. We used to come here as teenagers, sneaking beers and making out under the stars. Now, we sit on the hood of my truck, watching the sunset shimmer gold across the water.

"So," I say after a while. "Want to talk about what happened back there?"

Sierra sighs, pulling her knees up to her chest. "It's stupid. I should be used to it by now."

"Doesn't mean it doesn't bother you."

She's quiet for a moment. "Sometimes I feel like I'm not even a person anymore. Like I'm just this...thing for people to consume."

My heart aches for her. "Sierra, you're so much more than that."

"I don't know, Logan. I've spent the last twelve years of my life giving everything to my music career. I thought it was necessary, but now it's catching up with me and I'm realizing how lost I am. I don't know who I even am outside of my music."

"Well, you're an apple bobbing champ, for starters."

She laughs a little. "Yeah. Guess that's a good place to start."

"I'm sorry you're feeling so lost."

"Thank you." She takes a breath. "I'm hoping this next month helps."

"I hope so, too. I've got a feeling it will. And you know what? If people can't view you as more than a pop star, that's their problem. Not yours." I shake my head. "It's like the purebreds we take in. A lot of people are only able to see them as racehorses, and can't appreciate them beyond that. But they're so much more than just their performance ability."

Sierra stares at me. "Are you calling me an old horse?"

"Uh—" I clear my throat. "That's not—I didn't mean?—"

She laughs, shoving my shoulder. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

We both dissolve into laughter. When it subsides, I find Sierra looking at me, her eyes soft and full of familiar warmth. My chest aches hard for her. My whole damn body aches for her. Fuck, she's so beautiful.

For a moment, I think about leaning in and closing the distance between us. I think about pulling her gorgeous curves into me. The air feels charged, electric.

But I hold back. It's been years. I don't know where we stand anymore.

Instead, I clear my throat. "Should we head back?"

Sierra blinks, as if coming out of a daze.

"Yeah," she says softly. "Yeah, let's go."