Chapter 19

19

T abby wasn't exaggerating how much she loved having Logan and Franzi over for dinner most nights. Cooking for herself was basically drudgery, but cooking for people who were enthusiastic about it was actively rewarding, and she was grateful to have a reason to pause after caring for the horses instead of diving into the next job with whatever leftovers she had in one hand.

"Whoa," Logan said as he and Franzi came in the kitchen door. "You're actually sitting down when it's not for a meal."

"Whoa!" Franzi said, pretend-galloping around the dining room table. "WHOA!"

Tabby had her computer open in front of her. "Trying to decide which bills to pay this month," she said bitterly. She and Logan had been doing well at all the shows they had managed to make, but the ones nearby were small and had mostly the same clientele, so the boost to her business hadn't been what she hoped it would be.

"You've got two new boarders for training," Logan said, taking a seat opposite from her. "And more lessons than you had this spring."

"I lost a boarder, too," Tabby pointed out. Oreo's owner had reluctantly relocated to Oregon, and she hadn't had the heart to penalize him for breaking their contract.

Franzi was on her third lap of the table already, neighing enthusiastically. "Is it...that bad?" Logan asked cautiously.

Tabby sighed. "Last summer, the well got clouded and I had to redrill it and buy a new pump and pressure system. I did it on credit, and they're threatening to send the bill to collections on the final installment. Paying it off means skipping the mortgage this month, or selling the truck. I need the truck."

"What about the rentals?" Logan asked, frowning.

"Whoa!" Franzi said, as Logan caught her by the waist and turned her around.

"Run the other way so you don't get too dizzy," he advised.

Franzi happily trotted in the other direction, already reeling.

"That seems like good life advice," Tabby said wryly. "The rooms are nearly finished, but where do I get the money for the appliances and furniture? No one is going to rent an empty box, no matter how good the view is." She closed the laptop carefully. "I know that we're going the right direction, but this business is a slow build, and I don't have the margin to get through the tight spots. Maybe Veronica Chase will get her wish and scoop up the ranch for a song when I have to foreclose." She hadn't meant to say so much and hoped that Logan wouldn't pity her. "Anyway, I guess you should know. So you can be shopping for another place for you and Franzi, just in case." She sucked in a breath. "I've got a casserole in the oven. It should be ready in about twenty minutes. Can you help me make a salad to go with the hot dish?"

"All the food groups," Logan said, standing. "Meat, starch, vegetables, and ranch dressing."

"Ranch DRESSES!" Franzi said breathlessly.

She continued to make circles of the room as Logan followed Tabby into the kitchen. To her surprise, he didn't go to the cabinet to get the cutting board; one of the things she liked best about his help is that he didn't wait for her to tell him every detail about what needed done.

Instead, he closed the kitchen door.

"What's up?" Tabby said suspiciously as she stood up with the crisper and closed the fridge. He wasn't going to make a move on her in her kitchen, was he? She didn't want him to, did she? She put the vegetables on the island between them.

"I have an…opportunity."

"I'll need some more information than that," Tabby said tartly. Logan's discomfort was obvious. Clearly, he did pity her.

"Clancy called me today."

"Clancy Kennedy who sold me a horse in exchange for my life savings?" Tabby clarified. "Which vanished the first night, leaving me high and dry?"

"That Clancy, yes," Logan said, even more reluctantly.

"Has he got another scam for you?"

"Con," Logan corrected. "It's a con, not a scam."

"I'm sure there is a reason for that distinction," Tabby said. "I notice that this started as an opportunity , and we've moved into shadier territory pretty quickly."

"It's not technically illegal."

"Look, I'm listening, but you'd better spit out the details before I have to wring them out of you with a cheese grater. "

"He wants to sell me again."

" I own you," Tabby said with a great deal more vinegar than she intended. It wasn't like she had any actual claim on Logan.

"I wouldn't do this without your okay," Logan said immediately. "And I told Clancy you had to buy in, and I didn't agree to do it yet. We all have to win."

"Except the poor sap who buys you. Let me tell you what that's like."

"He's a douchebag of the highest degree," Logan promised. "He's a predator of horse-crazy girls and he has more money than the Pope so he gets out of every accusation. He's a slum lord and cheats on taxes with fake charities. He's even a bad rider ."

"And Clancy wants to sell you to him? What's the catch? Why do you even need me?"

He was quiet for a long moment, and didn't answer the question. "We have to enter the Grand Prix in Billings."

Tabby stared at him, wrestling with her misgivings and, even more, with the sheer desire that rushed through her.

The Grand Prix had big cash prizes—big enough to pay off both of her looming bills and furnish at least one of the rentals if they got the top ribbon.

Even better, the event was the highlight of the Montana jumper circuit. If she made a good showing with Logan, there was a good chance she'd pick up enough new students and training clients to keep the ranch going on its own.

And best yet, she'd be proving something to herself. That she really was a good rider, a good trainer, a good person —all things she had doubted since her divorce. She had what it took to get the blue ribbons. Winning the Grand Prix had been her dream when she bought Logan from Clancy in the first place .

But…

"Where would I get the entry fee? Stop paying the power bill? Take out a second mortgage? Set up a lemonade stand at the end of the driveway? I'm already totally underwater."

"Clancy said he'd cover the entry fee." Logan looked conflicted, and Tabby wasn't sure what her own face was doing.

"Out of the goodness of his heart?"

"He wants the buyer to see what I can do. He thinks it will ratchet up my price. It's in his best interest, and our best interest, too."

Clancy.

"Your cousin took me to the cleaners," Tabby reminded him. "You haven't spoken to him all summer. Tell me, why would we trust him?"

"Because we need money," Logan said frankly. "Because I think he wants to make things right, in his own twisted sort of way. Because I don't know how else to keep child services from taking Franzi away when I run out of money, which I'm about to. To keep what we have here…"

He came around the island to look earnestly down at her. Tabby desperately wanted to reach up and brush that lock of white back from his face, not that it would stay. She turned to the produce on the counter and began sorting it to keep her hands busy while Logan went on.

"It's my fault you're in this position. Not just the money I let Clancy swindle out of you. I looked up the Airbnbs in this area. You should be making hundreds of dollars a day and you're letting me completely freeload instead. I don't know how to repay you without doing this."

Tabby told herself to stop thinking of ways that he could repay her. They were strictly professional. She pulled a knife out of the butcher block and started thin-slicing cucumbers. "You said it wasn't illegal."

"Technically. It's a perfectly good aboveboard livestock sale when it occurs. But when I'm a human, it's no longer, you know, a valid sale because slavery isn't a thing anymore, so they can't own me and I'm free to go."

Tabby paused her knife. "You're arguing that because the law doesn't know about shifters and account for your sheer weirdness, it's an ethical thing to do?"

Logan shook his head. "It's not ethical," he agreed firmly. "I don't feel great about it. But I'm desperate. I could lose Franzi if child services started poking into my finances. I've already run through my savings. You could lose the ranch. I…could lose you."

It was hard to cling to morals when he was standing that close, looking that impassioned. Tabby sliced the cucumber coins in half and swept them into a bowl. "Do you solemnly swear that the guy you'd be scamming—conning—has enough money that it won't matter, and that he's a douchebag?"

"He won't even notice the money. And he deserves much, much worse. Whatever else Clancy is good at, he has a gift for finding scumbags."

"If we won the Grand Prix pot, why would we bother selling you?"

"Clancy will only front the entry fee if he gets to do the sale afterwards."

"Does he keep the money from the sale?"

"Twenty percent. It's a reasonable agent fee."

"And I'd keep the purse?"

"One hundred percent."

Tabby put a head of lettuce on the cutting board and started shredding it, trying to make sense of the offer. "It would mean I couldn't show you after that, if I've officially sold you. Everyone would recognize you after we did the Prix, and I couldn't risk someone seeing you here and word getting back to whoever bought you and lost you."

"We knew this couldn't last forever. You could buy the jumper that I was supposed to be if you want to keep showing once your ranch is established. You're a great rider, and a great trainer. You could find a horse as good as Beau."

"But it wouldn't be you ," Tabby pointed out. She was destroying the lettuce head and endangering her fingers. Very quietly, she added, "You wouldn't be mine."

Logan reached out to take the knife from her. "Tabby…I will always be yours."

Tabby thought that it was the sound of her heart pounding in her throat, waiting for him to close that final distance and kiss her when there was a sudden crash from the dining room.

"I'm okay!" Franzi called.