Snowbound Summer (The Logan Series Book 3) (13 page)

“Don’t be stupid…”

She didn’t even try to hide the
contempt on her face. “Don’t call me. If you can’t explain to your richest
client, give him my number and I’ll talk him through it. I won’t be returning
to London, and there is no way I’ll ever come back to you. Not for love or
money.” She looked at her watch. “Don’t miss your plane.”

Chapter
Seventeen

Brookbridge was full of shoppers. Nick was at his parents’
house, and the thought of going back to his apartment held no appeal. Besides, Summer
had presents to buy.

She headed to the small stores on
Main Street, intent on finding at least a token for each member of the family
who had so generously expanded their Christmas circle to include her. She
picked up colorful scarves and gloves for April and Val, and a rather elegant
fur trimmed hat for Ellie—and found a selection of tweed scarves in the local
man’s shop that she bought for the men. The presents were small, but she didn’t
know Nick’s family well enough to choose anything more personal.

She bought a stocking full of dog
treats for Fella.

For Nick?
Nothing seemed
right until she stood in front of the jeweler’s window.

Moments later, she exited,
clutching a small gold-colored bag. She fished her cell out of her bag, called
Nick’s cell, and asked to talk to Val.

“I wonder if you could forward
those pictures you took of Nick, Fella and me to my cell phone?”

“Sure, no problem.”

A few minutes later, they arrived
in Summer’s inbox. The chemist in Brookbridge had a sign in the window stating
that they had a photo-printing machine, so she headed there next.

This time last year, she’d been
busy in the restaurant—lunchtime of Christmas Eve had been one of their busiest
days ever. She glanced over the road at the restaurant they’d eaten at the
other night,
Buona Vita
. There was no way she’d get a table…not at such
short notice, and without a reservation, but nostalgia for the atmosphere of a
restaurant at Christmas made her walk across the road and push open the door.

She breathed in the scent of
oregano, basil, roasted peppers.

“Hi.” The blonde waitress,
Elaine, recognized her. “You’re Nick’s friend.” Her smile was welcoming. “Is it
just a table for one?”

“I know you’re busy…” There didn’t
seem to be an empty table in the place.

“We are. But I’ve just seated a
sole customer at a table, and I did ask him if he’d be willing to share if we
had someone else wanting to eat…would you mind sharing?”

Summer smiled. “I wouldn’t mind
at all.”

“Great.” Elaine led the way to a
table near the window. A dark haired man in his early thirties was checking the
menu. “Dr. Jones—may I seat this lady at your table?”

“Of course.” The man gestured to
the empty chair.

Elaine handed Summer a menu, and
scurried away.

“John Jones.” The man introduced
himself.

“Summer Costello.” She eased off
her coat, and slung it over the back of the chair. “I really didn’t think I’d
get a table today.”

“I didn’t make a reservation
either,” John confessed. “I was working this morning, and just decided to call
in on spec.”

“You’re a doctor, then.”

“At the hospital. I came off the
night shift, decided to do a bit of last minute shopping, and then thought I’d
grab lunch before going home to sleep.”

“I was shopping too.” Summer
scanned the menu. “I had dinner here a few nights ago—their food is excellent.”

There was silence for a few
moments as they considered their choices, then John snapped his menu shut.

Elaine walked over immediately,
her notepad at the ready.

“Would you like some water?” When
she said yes, he picked up the jug from the middle of the table. “What do you
do?”

“I’m a chef.” She turned and gave
Elaine her order.

To her relief, the doctor didn’t
feel the need to make any more small talk. Their meals arrived, and she
attacked the lasagna, not realizing just how hungry she was. She’d ordered a
glass of merlot, and sipped it between bites.

The restaurant was smaller than
Summer’s Kitchen—the menu choices simpler—but the food was expertly prepared,
and the clientele were happy and appreciative. Every time a table was vacated,
it was cleared and reset, and a constant stream of customers came through the
front door, so many in fact, that they had a small crowd gathering, waiting for
tables.

She was considering dessert when
Elaine came over again, this time looking worried.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you.” She clasped her hands
together as she spoke to John. “We have had an accident in the kitchen—the
chef…” She swallowed. “I really don’t want to ruin your meal, we’ve called for
an ambulance, but…”

“Of course.” John stood. He
looked at Summer. “Excuse me.”

He followed Elaine into the
kitchen. The sound of a distant siren grew louder, and before long an ambulance
turned the corner down the alley at the side of the restaurant.

Elaine returned, this time
holding her notepad. “Can I take your dessert order?” Her eyes were bright and
her smile forced.

“Is he all right?” Summer asked.

“The doctor thinks he may have
had a heart attack.” Elaine’s bottom lip wobbled. “The chef is also the owner. He
and his wife will be on their way to the hospital in the ambulance in a few
moments.”

The waitress looked shaken. “Sit
down for a moment.” It was the busiest time of day, on the busiest day of the
year. The kitchen must be in uproar. Summer took a deep breath. “Listen, I’m a
head chef. I don’t know how everyone is coping back there in the kitchen, I’m
sure the second chef has taken over, but if you need a hand back there, I’m
more than happy to help.”

Elaine’s eyes widened. “But you
don’t know the menu…”

Summer could cook any one of the
meals on the menu blindfolded. “Check with the second chef. See if he needs my
help.” She pushed her plate away. “You don’t want to have to turn anyone away.”

*****

Where is she?

Hours had passed since Summer’s
call—the call where she’d asked if Val was with him, and then asked to talk to
her. She’d sounded relaxed and happy.

She’d made no mention of the mysterious
phone call last night and they’d left his apartment at the same time that
morning—him heading to his mother’s house while she went into Brookbridge to do
some last minute shopping. She’d dressed in a long black wool dress and high
black boots for the occasion, had fastened her hair into a topknot and put on
more jewelry and makeup than he’d seen on her this entire holiday. As if she
was meeting someone.

He didn’t want to be suspicious,
but it was damn hard not to be.

Maybe there was a reason she hadn’t
replied to his text. Perhaps she was at home, waiting for him.

All the preparations that he
could do today had been done. Ellie was satisfied with progress. He’d caught up
with his brothers, now it was time to find Summer.

He stuffed his arms into his coat
and wrapped a scarf around his neck. “I’ll be here early in the morning to deal
with the turkey.” He jerked open the front door.

April was staggering up the path
laden down with packages. Nick held the door wide for her.

“You’re leaving?” April’s mouth
turned down at the corners.

“Yes. Gotta go.” He flattened
himself against the wall so she could squeeze past him.

“Meeting up with Summer, then? I
saw her in town having lunch in
Buona Vita
with some guy—I guess he’s
that brother I’ve heard so much about.”

Nick couldn’t get any words
out—couldn’t explain that Declan wasn’t even in the country—instead; Nick
forced a smile and got out of there as quickly as he could.

His heart sank on pulling up
outside his dark apartment. He unlocked the door, turned on the lights and
walked into the kitchen, Fella trotting along at his heels.

Everything was exactly as he’d
left it—she hadn’t been back.

He fed the dog, checked his cell
phone again, and walked upstairs. Her clothes still hung in the wardrobe—at
least she hadn’t moved out.

He called her. The phone must be
on as it rang repeatedly but wasn’t answered.

So what are you going to do
about it?
an inner voice demanded. The thought of Summer alone somewhere
with Michael made him crazy. The bastard didn’t deserve her. The prospect of
losing her brought home the realization that he wasn’t satisfied with a brief
fling—she meant more to him than that.

They were more than a holiday
romance, and he’d be damned if he’d let her just walk away, but right now, he
was so angry she was ignoring his calls he couldn’t see straight.

He could sit here, drown his
sorrows in a bottle of Jameson, and wait for her to come back, or he could…

He sent her a text and then
called Sean’s number. “Hey, can I come over?”

“Sure. But don’t you have a
houseguest to entertain? Are you bringing her too?”

“I’m flying solo. Summer is out
and I don’t feel much like sitting here on my own.”

“Great. Guys night. See you in a
while, then.”

Guys night.
He and Sean
had often hung out, downing whiskey, eating Doritos and watching action movies.
They both dated up a storm, but neither was good at the commitment thing, so were
usually alone on Christmas Eve. He’d thought this year would be different.

Nick called a taxi.

*****

Once the lunchtime crush was over with, preparations for the
dinner shift began. Summer had been enjoying herself so much, she’d become
totally caught up in the moment. Cooking, without the pressure of being
responsible for everything, was liberating. She’d forgotten just how much she
enjoyed being a chef, working in a busy kitchen.

So when the second chef had come
up empty trying to find another chef to cover at short notice for the evening
booking, she hadn’t been able to say no.

She checked her phone, but the
battery was dead and she didn’t know Nick’s number, so without a charger she
was stuck. Hopefully he’d understand.

The next few hours had flown. And
she’d loved every minute.

When the last table had been
served, she picked up her coat and bag, and made her excuses. Elaine called her
a taxi, and a wad of notes was stuffed into her hand by the grateful owner, who
had returned from the hospital to report that her husband, the head chef, was
doing okay. They’d asked if there was any possibility she could help out more
over the days to follow, but she’d declined.

Nick’s apartment was dark when
the taxi drew up.

She unlocked the front door,
shrugged off her coat, and headed upstairs. His bedroom was empty. Confused,
she grabbed the charger and plugged in her cell phone.

A couple of messages pinged into
her in-box, she read the most recent first.

Have gone out. Call me when
you get back.

Clear, concise, to the point. No
x’s at the end.

She glanced at her watch to see
it was after midnight. Where is he? She called his number. “Nick? Hi, I’m home.”

“And I’m out.” His voice was
slurred, as if he’d been drinking. “Good of you to call.” He was a master of
sarcasm; every word was dripping with it. “Did you enjoy yourself at the
restaurant?”

Confusion swirled. How had he
known where she was? “Yes, I just got carried away, I should have called, I’m
sorry—”

“Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”
The tone of his voice contradicted his words. “Listen, I’m at Sean’s, and I’ve
been drinking. I think I’ll crash here for the night and go straight to my
parents’ house in the morning. If you come, bring the dog, will you?”

His attitude stunk. “Couldn’t you
grab a taxi?” She wanted to tell him about working in the restaurant, needed
his arms around her. Waking up on Christmas morning with him as her present was
an unrealized dream. “I’d really like to spend tonight with you.” Her voice
sounded husky, but she didn’t care that her need was plain to hear.

“Sorry. I can’t. Will you bring
Fella tomorrow morning, or do I have to collect him?”

She bit down hard on her bottom
lip. “I’ll bring him.”

“Goodnight, then.”

Summer held the cell phone to her
ear. He’d hung up on her.

After the call, Summer checked
the earlier messages. A pleading one from Michael, begging her to reconsider.
Two from Nick, asking her to call him.

The first was early afternoon,
when she’d been busy in the restaurant kitchen—even if her battery was still
working, she wouldn’t have got it as Elaine had whisked her coat and bag away
into the staff area for safekeeping.

How had Nick known she was at the
restaurant? Her mind flickered back to the night of the Vet’s Christmas
Party—Nick’s easy, friendly relationship with Elaine. Maybe she’d called him.

She rubbed the back of her neck.
No. That made no sense. What possible reason could Elaine have for calling Nick
and telling him that? She guessed she should have called him, it was Christmas
Eve; she had no right to keep him hanging. But still, if he’d needed to talk to
her so badly, couldn’t he have rung the restaurant and asked to speak to her?
He’d known she was there…

Summer was so tired she couldn’t
even think straight, so she changed into her nightgown and climbed into bed.

The sheets were cold. Outside the
window, a gale was blowing, rattling the windows. If she’d called him, they’d
be curled up here together.

All the way home, she’d imagined
telling him about her day—sharing how exciting it had been to discover that her
love of cooking hadn’t been lost when she lost the restaurant. Now, cold
reality pushed in. They never would have had that conversation. Because he had
no idea what her life was really like—that nothing remained for her in London,
or hadn’t up until Michael’s recent offer.

Up until that moment, she’d been
mourning the death of a dream. Wallowing in self-pity for the misfortunes that
life had dealt her.

When Michael offered her an
escape—the chance to continue running Summer’s Kitchen, but without the
pressure of ownership, everything sharpened into focus.