Snowbound Summer (The Logan Series Book 3) (12 page)

Chapter
Fifteen

When the human whirlwind that was Amy had moved on, Summer
went back upstairs to find her own cell phone. When she turned it on a flurry
of messages landed.

Declan. Her mother.
What?
Six messages from Michael.

She sat on the bed and breathed
in.
Why the hell is he calling?
Since they’d split she hadn’t heard a
word from him. For the first couple of weeks, she’d been so stunned, so upset,
that she might have forgiven him if he’d told her it was all a terrible
mistake, that he was sorry. But as time had stretched without a word—she’d
faced the fact that she was alone. That she’d wasted three years on a man who
was all style, no substance.

She didn’t want to call.

She didn’t want to have anything
more to do with him.

She gazed at the last message,
sent that morning. “Call me! Please.”

Summer turned off her phone. Even
if Michael prostrated himself on the ground before her, she couldn’t see her
way to ever going back into that relationship. She’d thought he was proud of
her achievements, but now she saw things differently.

He’d like the kudos of being with
a successful businesswoman. She’d hosted and cooked more dinners for his clients
than she could count, and he’d shown her off as a trophy girlfriend. But when
things became difficult, when she faced financial difficulties and struggled to
make sense of what she needed to do to turn things around, he wasn’t
interested.

She’d spent night after night,
listening to his work problems—had done her best to always bolster him when he
was down, but hadn’t received the same support in return.

She hadn’t wanted to accept the
truth that their relationship had been little more than an empty shell for the
last year they’d been together. Accepting—admitting it to herself—meant that
she’d failed. And even now, she’d lied to her family.

Being with Nick was so different.
He accepted her for what she was, didn’t care about all of that surface stuff.
He liked her for her. She’d never been so caught up in anyone before, never
felt so attracted, so…

In love.
The words sounded
in her head. Could she really be in love with Nick Logan? They’d never talked
about what would happen when the holidays were over. He expected her to return
to London, to a life that she didn’t have anymore. If she was in Brookbridge
permanently, would their relationship survive?

*****

Dublin Airport at Christmas. A cross between a theme park
and a zoo. Huge polystyrene polar bears and grinning snowmen posed in front of
the floor length glass doors and windows, and harried travellers filled the
rest of the available space.

The call into the practice had
been to dole out Christmas presents…and afterward Nick hadn’t been able to make
as quick a getaway as he’d wished. So he was late.

He checked the
arrivals screen, hoping they’d been delayed.

Landed.
Ten minutes ago.
With luggage to pick up, they wouldn’t have made it out yet, so he jogged to
the arrivals area, weaving through passengers and avoiding suitcases. He didn’t
know what made him turn, that particular moment. Maybe it was the way his body
had twisted to avoid slamming into a woman charging through the crowd like an
ocean liner.

He avoided the woman, but felt a
slam in his heart the moment he saw the familiar face of the polished man in
the impeccable black suit heading into the restroom. He’d only seen Michael
once, but there was no mistake. Summer’s boyfriend was in the airport. Carrying
a suitcase.

For a moment, he just stood
there, shock twisting his gut. She couldn’t have lied—she wouldn’t have…

There was one way to find out. He
could follow Michael into the restroom and talk to him. Tell him…Tell him what?
That he had fallen in love with Michael’s girlfriend, that it was too late, he
should turn right around and get on the next plane out?

She told her parents Michael
was coming.

Nick gritted his teeth. His hands
curled into fists. Summer was joining him and his family for Christmas dinner
in two days; if there was another plan on the table she’d have to tell him
before then. He dragged in a breath, turned away, and continued running to the
arrivals gate.

He was in place when Matthew and
April, pushing a trolley laden with suitcases, came through a few minutes
later. He waved to catch their attention, and walked to the end of the barrier
to greet them.

“I thought Amy was coming!”
Matthew enveloped him in a hug. “I guess you drew the short straw, huh?”

“Hi, Nick!”

He hugged his sister-in-law
close. “I don’t know about the short straw, Amy had a list as long as Santa’s—I
reckon I got off easy.” He jerked his head in the direction of the exit.

They didn’t seem to notice that
he was quiet on the drive back to Brookbridge. Summer had said she had some
errands to run—had she planned to pick up a certain someone at the airport too?

He wanted to drop and run, but
the moment the car pulled up, his mother was out the front door waiting to hug the
air out of everyone. “Help bring their things in, Nick. I’ve the kettle on.”

He did as he was told. Greeted
his father, whose features lightened in relief when he realized reinforcements
had arrived. Christmas in the Logan household was a flurry of activity that
started mid-November.

“We’ve been trying to get hold of
you for days.” He grabbed Nick’s arm and pulled him to one side. “Are you
really on top of the meal? Because if you aren’t, tell me now before it’s too
late.” He ran his hand through his greying hair. “I don’t know why your mother
made that stupid bet—she can’t delegate
and
keep her blood pressure low.”

“It’s done. It’s fine. There’s a
delivery arriving this afternoon.”

“She said something about you
having a chef to help out?”

“Summer Costello. Declan’s
sister. She’s staying with me at the moment. She’ll help me with everything.”

Dermot Logan looked impressed. “I
remember her. Fine girl.” His shrewd look saw right through Nick. “You always
had a thing about that girl.”

He had. He did. And there was no
point in denying it. “Yes. I always liked her.”

“So? Is there romance in the air?”

A couple of hours ago he’d known
the answer to that question. But now? “I don’t know, Dad. Do me a favor, play
the whole thing down with Mum, will you?”

*****

Fella stood up and trotted into the hall a minute before the
front door opened.

“I’m in here!” Summer clicked the
plastic top onto the container she’d just filled with her special cranberry and
orange sauce.

Nick strode in. “Sorry I’m so
late—there’s no such thing as a quick cup of tea at my parents’ house.”

She walked over and hugged him.
Just because she could. “What time do we have to be there?”

“We have about an hour.” He
puffed out a breath. “I’m exhausted.”

“So, is everyone there?”

“More or less. My brother Finn
and his wife live in Dublin so they’ll be there. But my brother who lives in
New York isn’t coming after all—blaming the pressure of work.” He rubbed the
back of his neck. “So of course, there was much discussion about staging an
intervention. It’s not as though Adam is a drinker or a druggie, he’s just in
love with the wrong woman.” He scowled. “I don’t know why Mum and Amy think
they have to go and get involved. They should just leave the poor sucker alone.”

His relaxed mood of earlier
seemed to have evaporated. “Why don’t you have a nap or something? I’ll wake
you up.”

“I don’t want a nap.” His eyes
were bleak. “How about sex?”

There was something off. His mood
was unreadable, and he’d never been so matter-of-fact about making love with
her before. “Sex sounds good.”

She thought she knew his every
mood, but this was a new one. Nick didn’t want to talk, didn’t tease her or
smile as he peeled her clothes from her body the moment they were inside the
bedroom.

“Is everything okay?” she
whispered the words, desperate to know how she could get the old Nick back. The
old, carefree lover she’d begun to fall in love with.

“Fine.” His gaze was shuttered—he
was keeping something from her. Words wouldn’t cut through the wall he’d
erected, but maybe touch would.

She shoved her hands under his
heavy sweater, and stroked his hard abs. Leaned back a little so he had room to
strip it off his tee-shirt. Then her hands went to his belt.

He’d pleasured her so many times,
but she’d never tasted him—he’d never let her.

“Summer.” He grasped her upper
arms, but she wouldn’t be diverted.

“Let me. I want to.” She undid
his jeans, and shoved them down. The outline of his cock pushed against the
soft cotton of his trunks, so with one hand she freed him, sliding from base to
tip with a firm grip.

“Shit.” He groaned.

Before he could reach for her
again, she dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth. Her hands wrapped
around the back of his thighs, a tremor went through her fingers. She licked,
she sucked, she stroked him with her tongue, feeling the sweet sting of victory
as his hands buried themselves in her hair, holding her close.

He couldn’t hold back, and she
didn’t want him to. Her nipples peaked in the chill air of the bedroom, and
wetness flooded her at the noises he made.

Her hands tightened around his
thighs as she took him deeper than she ever would have thought possible.

“I can’t…” He flexed.

Her head moved back and forth,
faster, faster.

Until he couldn’t hold back any more.

Afterwards, they curled up
together in the big bed.

“You kill me, do you know that?”
Nick’s arm tightened around her. “I don’t have any control where you’re
concerned.”

His hand smoothed down her back,
across the curve of her hip. “What’s happened between us is crazy. Tomorrow is
Christmas Eve, and in a couple of weeks you’ll be gone. Back to your life. I’ll
miss you.”

It felt as though a boulder was
lodged in her throat, blocking words. “What if I didn’t go? What if I stayed?”

“You can’t.” Nick’s tone held a
note of finality. “I know that, and you do too. You’re an award-winning chef
with a Michelin-starred restaurant. A woman with a glittering career. What
could you do in Brookbridge, work in the coffee shop?” His laugh was harsh. “I’d
love you to stay, but I couldn’t ask you to give all of that up.” His mouth
brushed the top of her head. “We never planned any of this, and for good
reason. There are a thousand reasons why we can’t be together.”

He pulled away and threw back the
blanket that covered them. “We should get ready to go.”

Tell him. Now.
It was the
perfect time. The only moment. And yet she stayed silent. Revealing that the
restaurant was gone now, when she’d let so many opportunities pass her by,
would be wrong. What they had couldn’t even be called a relationship—and
announcing out of the blue that there was nothing binding her to London any
longer, she was free and planning to move back to Brookbridge in the near
future, would come across as a demand to take their relationship to the next
level.

She couldn’t tell him like this.

She needed time before she made
that sort of a commitment. She’d never wanted anyone as much as she wanted
Nick, but…

“Are you getting out of that bed,
or do I have to come in and drag you out?”

Chapter
Sixteen

Ellie Logan was in her element. She fussed around everyone,
welcoming Summer and Fella into the family with open arms—and dog treats. “He’s
gorgeous.” She rubbed Fella’s ears. “When Amy told me you’d adopted a dog I
managed to get to the local shop to buy him something—if you’d let me know
earlier, I’d have got a bone from the butcher’s for him.”

“He doesn’t need a bone, Mum.”

“He should have one. It’s
Christmas.” She leaned down and spoke to the dog. “Shouldn’t you, Fella? I’ll
get you one.”

It was almost as if the dog understood—his
tail wagged like crazy, and he panted with his mouth open.

“He’s smiling.” Ellie
straightened, smiling herself. “He’s lovely.”

Summer had been dragged off by
Nick’s father to be introduced the other members of the family.

Ellie leaned close. “So, what’s
the story with you and Summer?” Her eyes were bright. “I like her a lot.”

“You’ve only just met her.” Nick
glanced around, looking for a savior to rescue him from his mother’s laser-like
attention. A die-hard romantic, Ellie was always trying to set her children up
with someone or other, and the pool of single Logans was a rapidly shrinking
one.

“Well?”

He’d already told the story of
how he’d met Fella—which of course included how he’d discovered Summer alone in
her parents’ house. “I couldn’t leave Summer up there in the house alone without
electricity.”

“Of course not.” Ellie patted him
on the back, in very much the same way as she’d petted the dog. At least she
didn’t add “Good boy,” although she was doubtless thinking it.

“And Declan asked me to look
after her—to make sure that she didn’t spend Christmas alone.” He crossed his
fingers at that one.

“Isn’t she living with a man in
London?”

It seemed nothing would deflect
his mother’s determined digging for the truth. But which truth to tell? The
story Summer’d spun to her family, which he’d believed false up until he’d seen
Michael at the airport—or the story she’d told him, that they were over?

Split second decision. “That’s
over. I think Summer’s re-evaluating her life at the moment.”

“No better time to do it than at
the end of the year.” Ellie nodded. “She can start the new year fresh.” She
stood up straighter as the front door opened. “Ah, here’s Finn and Val!” Leaving
a waft of Chanel in her wake, his mother shot across the room in search of new
blood.

Finn’s wife, Val was a
photographer, and she’d come armed. Her Nikon hung around her neck, and within
moments, Ellie was organizing photographs.

Summer wandered over. “There’s an
awful lot of your family, aren’t there?”

“Not really.” Growing up the
house had always been full to bursting. Friends of the Logan children were
always welcome, and Ellie and Dermot’s friends gravitated to the house where
the kettle always seemed to be on the boil, and a fresh, warm, loaf of bread
always ready to be sliced.

His parents were so gregarious
they always had people over. Most of their nieces and nephews popped in regularly
if they were in the area, and they had a wide circle of friends. But the best
time of the year for both of them was Christmas, when every Logan was
encouraged to come home from wherever in the world they’d settled.

“I guess I’m used to it.” Nick looked
down at Fella who sat at his feet. “I’m surprised he’s not more freaked-out.”
He peered closer. His mother was right; the dog was definitely doing his best
to smile.

“Right. You three.” Ellie bore
down, her hand curled around Val’s arm.

“Hi, Val.” Nick kissed her cheek.
“This is Summer, and Fella. How are you?”

“Good.” Val smiled back. “Busy.”

“Now, squash in, with Fella
between you.” They obediently shuffled close.

“Arm around her.” Ellie directed.
“Say cheese.”

They did as she asked while Val
snapped away. Glanced at each other, smiling wide.

“That’s great.” Ellie looked
around the room. “Dermot!” Grabbing Val’s arm again, she set off across the
room to her husband.

“I’ll send you a link,” Val
called over her shoulder.

*****

“Val and I arranged the table like this deliberately,” April
Logan, wife of Matthew, confided. Across the table, the three Logan brothers
sat shoulder to shoulder. “They should be appreciated in triplicate—don’t you
think?” Humor glinted in her eyes.

“Oh, definitely.” Summer hadn’t
had so much fun for years. Both April and Val were so easygoing, it was easy to
like them. And she was right—individually Nick, Matthew and Finn were
devilishly good looking, but together…they were enough to give a woman a heart
attack.

She didn’t know Matthew, but Finn
had been such a flirt he’d been impossible to forget. He was younger than her,
younger than Nick, but he’d blazed through the female population of Brookbridge
like a comet. Before he met Val at a speed-dating event and became a one-woman man.

“They are very good looking,” she
whispered to April.

“You’re welcome.” April passed
over a bowl of mashed potatoes. “Just remember, if you’re ever in charge of the
table settings, this is the way we like to do it.”

“Understood.” She took the bowl,
helped herself, and passed the bowl on to Val on her left.

“So, what do you do, Summer?” Val
asked.

“I’m a chef.”

“Thank God for that.” Val passed
the bowl of potatoes down the table, and reached for a bowl of carrots. “You’re
here on Christmas Day?”

Summer nodded.

“I’ve never eaten anything Nick
cooked—we’ve all been wondering how on earth he was going to manage producing
anything edible—and I’m not much better. Matthew’s the best cook of all of
them.”

“I’m sure he can’t be that bad…”
In her experience most people could cook if they had the right recipe, and
followed it. “I’m not letting him off the hook by being here, I’ll just
supervise.”

Val leaned close. “I think he
lives on baked beans.”

A memory of Declan and Nick
seated at her mother’s kitchen table with plates of beans on toast flashed in
Summer’s memory. Maybe Val was right…

“He did order a turkey. And it
was the right weight.” Across the table, she caught Nick’s eye and smiled.

Everyone was eating, drinking,
talking. The three Logan brothers were delivering a triple whammy of hot, but
she only had eyes for Nick.
He’s by far the hottest.

“Did you say something?” Val
leaned near.

“Jesus, did I say that out loud?”
Summer’s hand went to her heated cheeks.

“You did.” Val grinned. “As long
as you were talking about
your
Logan and not mine, you’re safe.”

My Logan.
If she believed
in Santa, she’d ask for her Logan for Christmas. “Well, I’m not sure he’s mine,
but I was talking about Nick.”

Val surveyed Nick across the
table with shrewd eyes. “Oh, I reckon he’s yours alright. You’ve hooked him;
you just need to reel him in.” She reached for the bottle in the center of the
table. “More wine?”

After dinner some members of the
family drifted to the sofas next to the fireplace and began to play charades,
while others stayed at the table, deep in conversation.

Summer’s cell phone rang. She
glanced at the screen surreptitiously under the table—
Michael. Again
.
She bounced the call, and a moment later it rang again.

She rejected the call.

“I’ll just let Fella out for some
fresh air,” she said to Val.

If she didn’t call him back, he
would doubtless ring again. And the last thing she wanted was to have a
conversation with her ex while Nick was within earshot.

So she called him.

“Summer. Thank God. Where the
hell are you?” His voice was shrill—demanding. “I’ve been trying to track you
down for days.”

“I don’t think my whereabouts are
any of your concern, Michael.”

“You’re in Ireland.” Satisfaction
in his tone. “I know that much. I had to ring five of your friends to discover
that you had gone home for Christmas. I flew out today and drove all the way up
that bloody mountain to find the house empty.”

What?
Summer swiped her
tongue over her dry lips. “What are you talking about?”

“I flew over to see you. I can’t
believe you didn’t let me know the restaurant is up for sale. You should have
told me.”

He was unhinged. Delusional. “You
and I are history; I didn’t have to tell you anything. You made your feelings
clear when you asked me to move out.” Her hand was clenched tight, the tips of
her nails digging into her palm. She opened her fingers wide and tried to calm
down. “I don’t want to see you. I suggest you go straight back to the airport.”

“Where are you?”

“None of your business.”

“Summer.” He spoke her name, soft
and pleading. A tone that once upon a time would have forced her to listen.
Not
anymore
. “Please. I need to talk to you. I’m in the Brookbridge Hotel. Just
an hour. Give me an hour of your time. You owe me that.”

She owed him nothing, but
curiosity spiraled through her. “I can’t tonight.” She blew out a breath. He
was stubborn—there was no way he’d leave before he had seen her. She could rise
early in the morning, get it over with…”I’ll meet you tomorrow morning. One
hour. No more.”

“I’ll be waiting.” He hung up.

She shoved the cell phone into
her pocket and went inside.

*****

Nick had watched from across the room as Summer checked her
phone a couple of times. He knew who’d be calling. It had to be Michael.

She’d stood up, made some excuse,
and headed into the kitchen.

He should just leave her
alone—let her make the call in private, if that is what she intended. But
instead, he excused himself from the group around the fire, and followed.

She was outside the back door,
illuminated by the light that came on automatically anytime anyone went into
the garden. Fella was sniffing around the perimeter. As Nick suspected, she was
talking on the phone.

He couldn’t make out the words,
but she didn’t look happy.

Frustrated, Nick strode to the
wine rack and pulled out another couple of bottles of red.

The door opened. “Ah, there you
are.” He forced his voice to sound casual. “I was just getting…” He held up the
bottles.

“I was letting Fella out.” She
avoided his eyes. Made no mention of the phone call. Then she walked to his
side and linked her arm through his. “So, are we playing charades?”

“I guess.” If she’d been talking
to Michael, she should tell him—should be honest. But forcing her into a corner
wasn’t his style. Maybe she needed a little time—he could give her that. “We’ll
make our excuses in an hour or so—I don’t know about you, but I’ve just about
reached saturation point.”

*****

The following morning, Summer parked outside the Brookbridge
Hotel and then strode inside. Michael was sitting in the lobby, nursing a cup of
coffee. The moment he saw her, he stood up and waved.

As if they were friends.

Every step toward him was like a
step into the past.

He didn’t fit here at all. His
skin was lightly tanned from his regular sunbed sessions. His black, Hugo Boss
suit fitted him to perfection, and he wore a dark pink paisley tie with his
expensive white shirt. His shoes were so shiny; she bet if she peered closer
she could see her face in them.

As she came closer, his hands
came up as if to touch.

Hers came up too, palms first, in
a don’t-even-try-it gesture.

“Darling.”

She arched a brow.

“Let’s talk in my room.”

She shook her head. “Here will be
just fine.” She sat on one of the leather tub chairs and placed her hands one
over the other in her lap. “What is it, Michael?”

She was prepared for him to beg.
For him to demand she came back to him and forgave him for throwing her out.
But his next words shocked the hell out of her.

“You remember Marlon?”

Marlon White. Michael’s
wealthiest client. The man she’d wined and dined both at their home and at
Summer’s Kitchen. She liked Marlon, but they had never been friends.

“Of course.”

“He told me Summer’s Kitchen was
for sale.” Michael’s mouth tightened. “It was damned humiliating to have to
admit I knew nothing about it.” He glared at her as if he expected an apology.

“Tough.”

He swallowed the last of his
drink. “I don’t know why you’re being such a bitch, Summer.” He ran his fingers
through his perfectly coiffed hair. “Surely you realize…”

“You’re a complete asshole. I don’t
need to listen to this.” She picked up her bag from the floor.

His hand shot out and grabbed her
arm. “Wait. Okay, I understand why you didn’t tell me. We didn’t end things
well—maybe that was my fault. Anyway…” He gave her a smile, the smile that used
to make her do whatever he wanted. “You don’t need to worry about the future
any longer. Marlon wants to buy Summer’s Kitchen. And he wants you to continue
on as head chef.”

Simmering anger flashed to boil. “So
you didn’t come here for me…you came with a business proposition.” How had she
been so stupid not to realize that?

“Well, I have missed you.” He
looked hopeful. “Things had become difficult for us, you were so wrapped up in
your work, in your financial difficulties—but with this new deal you won’t need
to worry about the money. Marlon will see to that side of the business and pay
you a handsome salary. I think we could try again. I’d be willing to…”

“Forget it.”

He frowned. “Okay, maybe that was
too soon. But Marlon. You’ll talk to him?”

“The realtor’s details are on the
sign.” She stood. “Marlon is welcome to contact them and make a bid for the
premises. But the name of the restaurant and its Michelin star is not for sale.
Neither am I.”