Page 5 of Destined for the Cowboy

She was pausing at the Pearl Harbor exhibit when something different tugged at her. Some odd sense of being under observation, or watched. She looked up in time to see a tall, broad-shouldered man looking at her from a few feet away. A split second later recognition hit.

Logan Fox.

What on earth was he doing here? Yes, Fredericksburg was less than twenty miles from Last Stand, but why here at this museum of all places?

For a moment she stood frozen. It was obvious they’d both seen each other, recognized each other, so wouldn’t it be rude to just…walk away? Or run, since that’s what she suddenly felt like doing?

The very thought made her steel herself. She was many things, including a bit of a history nerd, but she wasn’t withdrawn enough to run away from an acquaintance, was she? Simply because he was…was…

Words failed her, a rare enough occurrence that it should probably be a warning, she thought wryly.

In the same instant they both moved. Toward each other, as if they’d each reached the same conclusion in the same instant. She wondered if her own smile looked as hesitant as his did, as if he weren’t sure she wanted him any closer. Because she wasn’t sure this was wise, either, simply because he was so unsettling, and that was a feeling she hadn’t had in a very long time.

“Mr. Fox,” she managed to say when he stopped in front of her.

That made him draw back slightly. “Ms. Carhart,” he said, sounding and looking a bit wary.

And suddenly she couldn’t help but laugh. “So, is it us, or just this place that makes us so formal?”

That got her a much better smile. “It’s a place not to be taken lightly.”

“No, it is not,” she agreed. “After all, the man has an aircraft carrier named after him.”

“The admiral was a Texan born and raised, and he served like one,” Logan said. “A good example for anyone.” That approving note in his voice warmed her far more than it should have.

“Indeed. And I think he’d be glad at how this place continues to uphold his principles. It’s why I keep coming here.”

He drew back slightly again. “You do?”

She chuckled, but it sounded embarrassed. As she was, for reasons she didn’t quite understand. “I guess I’m a bit of a history nerd.”

For some reason that admission got her the most genuine smile yet, and it was warm and understanding in a way she never would have expected.

“How can you not be, here? Just the Japanese midget submarine that washed up at Pearl Harbor is enough to keep me coming.”

“I was just going to head in there,” she exclaimed, not even trying to hide her delight at his answer.

And so they ended up at the display of the small—relatively speaking, anyway—two-man sub that had been part of the attack.

“I always have trouble with the word ‘midget’ attached to something over seventy feet long,” she said, staring at the long, dark tube.

“I have trouble with the idea of being inside a six-foot-wide tube with no windows,” Logan said, rather dryly.

She glanced at him, at his height and those shoulders, and she couldn’t blame him. “I imagine it would feel a little…sardine-ish.”

To her surprise he didn’t just smile, but audibly chuckled. “Exactly.”

She felt suddenly more comfortable, in fact even at ease as they wandered through the exhibit. Even though she’d been here before, it felt…new, especially when he said something that made her think about something in a different way.

He paused when they reached the Medal of Honor display. Just as she always did, never any less amazed at the incredible,impossibly courageous actions of Marine Staff Sergeant William J. Bordelon.

“I read it every time I’m here,” Logan said as he studied the citation, so quietly she wasn’t sure she was meant to hear it, “because I’m amazed anyone could do what he did.”

“So do I.”

He looked at her then, and the almost tight smile he gave her was somehow more warming than even his laugh had been.

When they reached the exit, Tris made her usual turn, then hesitated. Feeling the need to explain, she said, “I always walk through the memorial courtyard before I leave.”

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