Snowbound Summer (The Logan Series Book 3) (11 page)

Chapter
Thirteen

Whoever wrote that women liked to snuggle, was guilty of one
hell of a generalization.

Summer couldn’t get away quick
enough. After the best sexual experience of his life, his partner in lust
shimmied to the edge of the bed, made some flimsy excuse, and followed it with
a sprint to the bathroom.

Nick lay there, staring after
her.
What just happened?
He wasn’t arrogant, but there was no way what
they had just shared was anything other than spectacular, for both of them. The
noises she’d made, the way she’d clutched around him, her inner tremors and the
marks she’d left on his back were all sure indicators that she’d been as affected
as he was.

So why the midnight sprint?

The urge to climb out of bed and
join her in the shower that he could now hear running behind the bathroom door,
was strong. But he shut down the compulsion. Something was up. He had no idea
what was going on with her, but she needed time for some reason.

After ten minutes, the bathroom
door opened, and Summer appeared, wrapped in his navy bathrobe. It was so big; it
covered every inch of her. She’d rolled up the arms, and tightly knotted the
belt at the waist. Her hair was wrapped in a towel.

“I’m going to make some tea.” She
smiled, but put the toes of one foot on top of the other. “Do you want some?”

Nick shook his head. “I’m too
tired. Bring it back to bed?”

She swallowed. “I…I’m going to
dry my hair in my bedroom after. Um…I think I might just stay up for a while. I
have problems sleeping. I don’t want to disturb you with my tossing and turning
all night.” The look on her face, as if she expected a fight about her
decision, gave him pause. He knew that look—he’d seen it on his own face often
enough. It was the I-don’t-want-you-getting-attached look.

He should feel happy that she
didn’t want any more than sex from him—he certainly wasn’t interested in a
relationship, but her making the decision rather than him nudged him off
kilter.

He wanted her to stay. There was
nothing he wanted more than to curl around her and drop off to sleep, but it
wasn’t as big a deal as she seemed to think it was. If she didn’t want to spend
the night with him, there was no point in making her feel bad about it.

“Okay.” He put his hands behind
his head. “If you change your mind, I’ll be here.”

“Great.” With a smile, she headed
for the door. “If I don’t see you before tomorrow, sleep well.”

She hurried from the room, and he
heard the door open to the spare bedroom soon after, and the sound of her hairdryer.

It was ridiculous to feel bereft
at her absence—he’d often slept with someone then headed back home afterwards,
leaving them happy and satisfied. Or so he’d thought. Maybe when emotions were
involved it wasn’t as simple as that?

*****

Summer was beyond relieved that Nick hadn’t questioned her
and had accepted her decision to spend the night in the spare room. After
making love with him, she didn’t think she could take any more intimacy. In the
club, she’d been so desperate for him, so determined that tonight should end up
with them together, that she hadn’t taken the time to consider the
consequences. She’d been expecting sex, not lovemaking, and the difference had
never seemed so stark.

How could she keep things simple,
when he affected her so strongly that she felt as though his arms were home?

Maybe it was because she’d known
him forever, but casual sex with Nick Logan wasn’t possible, she knew that now.
She’d needed to regroup, to get herself together. And she’d be forever grateful
that he hadn’t made a big deal out of it, as Michael would have.

Despite her assertion that she’d
suffer from insomnia, by the time she’d finished her tea, her eyelids were
drooping, and her body was languid and sleepy. She’d climbed the stairs, and
walked past his bedroom door, into the small spare bedroom. Lying in bed, she’d
listened out for sounds of him, but the house was quiet, so she’d closed her
eyes, and in moments, had fallen into a deep dreamless sleep.

A tap on the door woke her. Nick
pushed the door open. “I brought you some coffee.” He walked over to the bed. “Breakfast
is almost ready.”

She sniffed. “Are you cooking bacon?”
She sat up in bed and took the coffee from his outstretched hand.

“Bacon sandwiches.” He made no
move to kiss her, which perversely left her wishing he would.

“I’ll be down in a couple of
minutes.”

With a nod, Nick turned and left
the room.

It was as though last night hadn’t
happened. As if she’d dreamed it.
But I didn’t
. Summer clambered out of
bed, and dressed quickly. She washed her face in the bathroom, brushed her
teeth, and tidied her hair, then went to find him.

He was standing at the oven, plating
up the cooked bacon.

“I didn’t even say good morning.”
She crossed the room and stood next to him. Close enough to touch.

He turned.

She curled her fingers around his
upper arm and went up on tiptoe to reach his mouth. “Good morning,” she
whispered against his lips, then she kissed him.

“Good morning to you too.” He
snaked an arm around her and pulled her close, matching her gentle kiss and
raising it to deep and sexy. When he let her go, her heart was pounding.
So
much for dialing down on the love stuff…

He picked up the plate of bacon
and placed it on the kitchen table. “Breakfast.”

“So what’s on the agenda for
today?” She felt light and happy, ready for anything. “Did you say something
about a tree?”

“I don’t normally bother, but…”
he shrugged, “I guess if I’m having a guest for Christmas, I should make an
effort. You are going to stay over Christmas, aren’t you?”

The idea of spending Christmas
alone in her parents’ house held no appeal. “I’d like that.” She paused. “But
you have to cook dinner for your family, don’t you?” She glanced around at the
tight confines of the kitchen. “Is that here?”

“No. At my parents’ house.” He
grinned. “You’ll have to come with me.”

“Well, if I’m spending Christmas
with you, I’ll have to help you out with your dinner-making challenge.”

Nick punched the air. “Yes! I’m
saved.”

“Have you thought out the menu?”

Nick laid a couple of slices of
bacon onto white bread and covered them in brown sauce. “Not really, as I said,
I’ve booked a turkey—”

“One turkey does not a Christmas
make.” She tried to look serious, but gave up after a couple of seconds. “We
need a plan.” She looked around the kitchen. “Get me some paper and a pen and
we’ll write a list.”

*****

When Summer had drawn up a comprehensive list of
ingredients, including items he wouldn’t have thought of in a thousand years,
she subdivided the list into things to buy now and things to be delivered
closer to Christmas.

“We can use internet shopping to
organize a delivery to your parents’ house,” she said. “That means we don’t
need to worry about it.” She waved the list in the air. “These other things we
can buy today and cook beforehand.”

Nick had an internet shopping
account with the local supermarket. “We can do that tonight. We should head out
soon, I want to drive over and check your house then we can get the tree and
buy these other ingredients. I guess I should do some Christmas shopping too. I’m
going to give Fella a bath today.”

They sold collars and leads at
the vets and he’d picked one of each up the day before for Fella. When
breakfast was over Summer went back upstairs to get her coat and boots, and
Nick fastened the red tartan collar he’d chosen around Fella’s neck.

It had only been a few days, but
already the dog was looking so much healthier. He seemed happier too—pressing
his nose into Nick’s hands and gratefully accepting a pat. It would be hard to
manhandle him into the bath later, but well worth it.

“Ready to go?” Summer stood in
the doorway bundled up in her coat, woolly hat, and gloves. He smiled at the
memory of her sitting in bed playing imaginary drums with that hat on her head.

“Yes.” They climbed into the Land
Rover and drove up the mountain to the house. The salted road was clear, but
snow remained on the verges, and the sky was pale blue without a cloud in
sight. When they arrived at the house Nick checked the electricity was on and
that the heating was working, while Summer packed the rest of her belongings
and loaded them into her rental car. There was no point leaving it here, so she’d
drive it back to Nick’s house.

“When are your parents due back
from Spain?”

“The third of January. I’d
planned on returning to London by then, but they persuaded me to stay longer so
we could catch up.” Her nose wrinkled. “I guess I have some explaining to do.”

“They won’t be disappointed that
you split with Michael, you know. I don’t think either of them were
particularly impressed with him.”

She tilted her head to one side. “What
do you mean? Did they say something?”

“No—I guess I’m mostly talking
for your brother. He thought Michael was a bit of a dick.”

Summer smiled. “Declan was one
hundred percent right. I guess I just don’t like having to admit that I made
such a bad choice. I really thought he’d be there for me, but I couldn’t have
been more wrong. It makes me question how capable I am to make any decision, to
be honest.”

She was unnecessarily hard on
herself. “Everyone makes a mistake sometimes—no-one’s perfect,” Nick said. “You’re
more perfect than most, but…”

She frowned. “What do you mean, I’m
more perfect than most?” She crossed her arms. “I’m just the same as anyone
else.”

“No you’re not.” She’d never been
ordinary, never been held to the same standards as everyone else. “You were
always the best at everything, Summer. The best at school, the winner of everything,
the girl voted most likely to succeed. Your parents are proud of you, and you’ve
worked hard to live up to everyone’s expectations, but you’re not superhuman.
You can fail. It’s not the end of the world.”

Her back was straight, and her
shoulders had raised. She looked as though she was ready to fight a battle. “You
make me sound like a robot.” She glared at him. “I don’t think I’m superhuman,
I know I can fail.”

This wasn’t going the way he’d
hoped, but there was no backing down on the truth now. “I don’t think you do.
If you did, you’d have told them your relationship is over. You wouldn’t need
to prove anything to anyone.”

“You know what, Nick? Maybe we
should just stop talking about me.” She put on her coat and picked up her
suitcase. “I don’t have to justify my behavior to you, or to anyone else. I
made a decision not to tell my family because I didn’t want to worry them. I’m
going to tell them in January. I don’t want, or need your approval.” She eyed
him. “Maybe staying with you isn’t such a good idea.”

“I promised your brother I wouldn’t
leave you here alone.” Nick crossed his arms.

Her eyes widened. “You promised Declan…”
Her hands clenched into fists. “So all this time—you asked me to stay because Declan
asked you to? Did he ask you to sleep with me too?”

“Summer…”
Shit, shit, shit.

“Because you can tell my little
brother I don’t need to be babysat. I don’t need…” Her eyes glistened with
unshed tears.

In a couple of steps he was in
front of her, hauling her into his arms. “I didn’t ask you to stay because of
anything Declan said.” He stared into her eyes. “I wanted you from the first
moment I saw you again, I want you for me, not because it’s right, not because
I don’t think you can manage perfectly well without me, but for me. I want you,
I can’t help it. I don’t want you to stay here, and I don’t want you to leave
in January and go back to London.” Before he totally freaked her out and told
her he didn’t want her to ever leave, that he feared he’d lost his heart to her
forever, Nick wrapped his arms around her and kissed her until he couldn’t see
straight.

Chapter
Fourteen

Things were different between them as they walked around
Brookbridge, doing their errands. She hadn’t liked hearing his words back at
the house—the plainly spoken assertion that she was afraid to be seen as
anything less than perfect had stung—but Summer couldn’t deny he was right.

There had been months to tell her
family that she and Michael were over, months to explain that the restaurant
had fallen into difficulty, and she hadn’t revealed the truth. Mostly because
she didn’t want them to feel differently about her. To be disappointed.

Nick’s words had been brutally
honest. As had his declaration afterwards that he wanted her to stay not
because her brother had asked him to, but because he wanted to. Wanted her.

With the supermarket shopping done,
they loaded the bags into the Land Rover, and set out to buy a tree from the
vendors set up around the supermarket car park.

“How about this one?” Nick strode
right up to a tree that would fill the entire apartment.

“Too big.” She pointed at a
smaller one. “This one is good.”

He examined the branches, the
shape, and chatted with the vendor about the variety. She tugged Fella’s lead
when he wanted to go closer and sniff the tree. It didn’t need watering.

“That’s my dog.” A hulking man
stepped toward her, his gaze flickering from her face to Fella. “You stole my
dog.”

Fella stood so close it was as if
he was stuck to her leg. His tail was between his legs. A low growl issued from
his throat.

“Give me my dog back, right now.”
The man had close-cropped hair and wore a battered leather jacket and jeans.
His eyes were a fraction too close together, and his yellowing teeth formed a
snarl as he made his demand.

“This is not your dog.” She held
on tight to Fella’s lead.

“He’s my guard dog. You stole
him.” The man stepped so close she could smell his fetid breath.

“What’s the problem here?” Nick slid
an arm around her shoulders.

“Your girlfriend here has stolen
my fecking dog.”

“This is my dog.” Nick stepped
up, eye to eye with the stranger. “I found him half-starved a few days ago,
with a gash on his leg.”

“He must have got lost.” The
stranger’s smile didn’t soften his expression any. “No harm done. Thanks for
looking after him. I’ll take him now.” He reached for the lead, but Summer
pulled it back out of reach.

“No damn way.” Nick put out an
arm, and Summer and Fella sheltered behind him. “I’m a vet. What’s your name?”

Summer took her cell-phone out of
her pocket and snapped a picture of the stranger without him noticing.

“Why the hell do you want to know
my name?” The stranger’s hands curled into fists.

“Because I want to report you to
the police for mistreating an animal,” Nick said. “It’s an offence, and you
deserve to go to jail for what you’ve done to this dog.” The anger in his voice
made the stranger hesitate. “Come on, what’s your name?”

“Listen, mate.” The stranger took
a step back. “Fine. If you want him, you have him. He’s a useless mutt anyway.”
His leg jerked out in Fella’s direction, in a kick that he’d probably delivered
more than once, but he was too late, Fella skittered out of reach.

“Try that again, and I’ll knock
you out.” Nick growled. He seemed bigger, more threatening than she’d ever seen
him. “Piss off before I call the guards.”

Without a word, the heavy-set
stranger turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Adrenaline coursed through Summer’s
system. She crouched and patted Fella, reassuring him with words and deeds that
he was safe, that he’d never see his awful previous owner again.

“Are you okay?”

She looked up at Nick, then
stood. “You were bloody wonderful.” She threw her arms around him and hugged
him tight. “That man was a monster.” She gazed out into the sea of people, but
couldn’t see him any longer. “You told him you were a vet—you don’t think he’ll
try to snatch Fella do you?”

“I’d like to see him try.” Nick’s
jawline was clenched tight. “I wish I knew who he was, I’d have him prosecuted.
If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay away. I think he only tried it on
because he didn’t realize we were together.”

He was right. If she’d been
alone, maybe the man would have just taken the lead from her and dragged Fella
away. She shuddered at the thought. “I took a picture of him with my phone.”

“Good. I’ll take it to the local
police. If he has any more animals I’ll get the ISPCA involved, and they can
stage a rescue.” He looked down into her face. “Let’s get our tree and go home.”

*****

She followed him home in the rental car; together they brought
the tree into the apartment and set it up on a stand by the window.

“Okay, where did you put those
decorations we bought at the store?”

It was late afternoon and the sky
was darkening. Summer walked to the drapes and pulled them closed. “In the
kitchen, but I reckon we can trim the tree later.” She turned. “I have
something more urgent to do.”

The look in her eyes… “What’s
that?”

Her fingers went to the front of
her shirt and she started to unfasten the buttons.

“I want to go upstairs.”

He didn’t move. Waited for her to
continue.

“I want to go to bed with you.”
She unfastened the last button, and her shirt fell open, revealing her hot-pink
bra. “I want your hands on me.” In two steps she was in front of him. “You were
a hero today. Fella’s hero. And mine too.” She touched his face, traced his
lips with her fingers.

She didn’t need to say any more.
Nick clasped her hand and together they walked upstairs.

This time, there was no slow,
careful exploration of each other’s bodies. They stripped off their clothes
and, kissing, made it to the bed, all hungry mouths, tangled limbs and
desperation. She cried out when he entered her. Wrapped her arms and legs
around him so tight not a hair could come between them. They climbed toward the
pinnacle in perfect synch, and came at the exact same moment, staring into each
other’s eyes, holding nothing back.

This time, she didn’t climb out
of bed after. Didn’t try to deny what had happened. She snaked an arm around
his waist, rested her head on his chest, and closed her eyes.

He stroked over her shoulder,
down the soft skin of her arm. Breathed in the scent of her hair and her warm
body. His body was languid, relaxed in the aftermath of their passion.
Perfect.
In moments, he was asleep.

Over the next three days, it was
as though they’d moved into a different country, a country where they were the
only inhabitants. There was no need to leave for supplies, no need to dress, no
need to communicate with the outside world.

Time held no meaning; they ate
when they were hungry, made love upstairs in bed and downstairs on the
sheepskin rug before the fire, or on the sofa. Played chess, talked long into
the night, about the choices they had made in their lives, the good times, the
bad. Without discussing it, both had turned off their cellphones, not
interested in what might be going on in the rest of the world.

There was no snow on the ground,
but they acted as though they were snowbound—hidden from the rest of the world.

They were in bed mid-morning on
the fourth day, when the doorbell’s ring set Fella into a flurry of excited
barking.

Summer sighed. “I guess we couldn’t
hide out forever.”

Nick kissed her quickly, climbed
out of bed and dressed. “I’ll try to get rid of whoever it is. Stay right
there.” They’d made love late into the night, but he could think of nothing
better than spending yet another day in bed. She sat up, her glorious hair
tumbling over her shoulders, the curves of her breasts barely hidden by the
silky, scarlet nightgown. Just the sight of her was enough to make him consider
ignoring the doorbell.

Until someone stabbed it again,
and Fella howled.

“Dammit.” He shoved a hand
through his hair.

Summer grinned. “I think I’ll get
up.” She swung back the covers. “I could do with some coffee anyway.” He
frowned. She laughed. “Aw, come on, don’t pout.”

Nick took the stairs two at a
time. Jerked the front door open, ready to give the visitor hell for their
relentless doorbell-stabbing.

“Nick!” His sister, Amy, dived
into his arms, and hugged him tight.

*****

The front door closed, but the sound of voices still
filtered upstairs. The mysterious visitor was here for a while.

Summer put on her shoes, and went
into the bathroom.

I look different.
The
chronic case of bedhead was easily cured by the determined attentions of her
hairbrush, but the other changes were more profound. Free from the pressure of
the previous months, the edges of her mouth had lost their pinched look. She’d
been so used to seeing the little wrinkle between her eyebrows, its absence
made her trace her forehead with the tip of her index finger. The reflection
staring back at her looked younger, freer, healthier, happier than she had in
years.

She braided her hair, washed her
face, and brushed her teeth.

Her makeup bag, on the bottom
glass shelf to the side of the sink, hadn’t been opened in days—she hadn’t
needed the armor of makeup alone with Nick—after a moment’s hesitation, she
unzipped it and took out a tube of foundation.

A few minutes later, she followed
the voices into the kitchen.

“There you are. Coffee?” Nick stood
up from the table as she entered. “I don’t know if you remember my little
sister, Amy.” He couldn’t have told Amy that there was anyone else in the
house, because she was staring as though Summer was a mirage.

Nick tapped her on the shoulder. “Amy.”

Her gaze flicked to him, whiplash
style.

“This is Summer. Say Hi.”

Amy swallowed. “Hi. Summer…that’s
an unusual name…” And then she got it. “Summer Costello? Declan’s sister?”

“That’s me.”

Amy was out of the chair and
across the room to Summer in a split second. “I don’t think I’ve ever met you
before—although of course, I’ve heard all about you from Declan over the years.”
She spoke so quickly she barely stopped to catch her breath. “I didn’t know you
were here. Are you staying with Nick?” Before Summer had a chance to answer,
she was talking again. “We’ve been trying to contact him for ages, but his cell
phone…” Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Summer is staying with me over
Christmas.” Nick placed a mug of steaming coffee and a small empty plate in
front of Summer, and pushed a white, cardboard box of pastries in her
direction. “Amy brought cakes. What’ll you have?”

“Umm.” Summer selected an éclair
and grinned at Amy. “Thanks, Amy.”

Amy looked as though she was
stuffed to the gills with questions that desperately needed answering. She
rolled her lips together, and rubbed one hand over the other. Summer had no
doubt that if she was alone with her brother there would be an epic inquisition
taking place right now, but luckily Amy had been brought up right.

Interrogating just wasn’t good
manners.

“Amy’s home for the holidays.”
Nick sat back down.

“Everyone’s home for the
holidays,” Amy said. “And our mother is stressing out. She sent me to find out
if you’ve changed your mind about cooking.”

“Everything’s under control.”
Nick picked up his cell phone and turned it on. “Oh, wow. I see what you mean.
It looks as though she’s been calling on the hour every hour.” He tapped on the
screen and put the cell phone up to his ear. “Mum? It’s Nick. Sorry, I had my
phone off.”

The sound of his mother’s voice
was audible, the tone, but not the content.

Nick grimaced. “Okay, cool down.
Yes, I’m ready. The supermarket is due to make a delivery to your house this
afternoon.” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’ll be over tomorrow to start cooking. I’m
bringing a friend to help me out.”

He listened for a moment. “Summer
Costello. She’ll be joining us for Christmas…Uh huh… yes…restaurant in London.”
His gaze connected with Summer’s and his eyebrows rose at whatever his mother
was saying. “Oh, I didn’t know her restaurant had a Michelin star. Lucky us,
huh?”

Earning the Michelin star had
been one of the high points of her professional career, but not even that had
been enough to guarantee the restaurant’s future. Dejected, Summer bit into the
éclair, squirting cream out the side.

She walked to the cutlery drawer,
and picked out a fork.

“Yes, we’ll be there for dinner
tonight, and I’ll talk you through the menu then. What time are Matthew and
April getting in? Do you need me to pick them up at the airport?” Silence for a
moment. “Okay, then. See you later.”

He terminated the call, and
checked his other messages.

“I said I’d do the airport run,”
Amy said.

“I know. Do you want me to take
that off your hands? Mum said you’re busy.” Nick rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve
got a message here from the practice. I better call them back.”

“I’d appreciate you picking them
up.” Amy stood up and put on her coat. “I’m gonna go.” She pulled out a piece
of paper from her pocket. “You were just the first item on my list, I’ve still
a lot of things to do.” She ran her finger down the list. “Where the heck will
I get mistletoe?”