by Kendall Ryan
What am I doing? What if I can’t get the truck all the way to the airport? What if I get stranded out here when the sun goes down and have no way to keep warm? What if no one knows I’m gone and I freeze to death?
Flashes of me, blue-lipped and shivering in the middle of nowhere, fill my mind. I’m such a fool. I should turn back. I should never have—
The front left tire hits a big bump hidden by the snow, rocking this old rust bucket to the side. I whip the wheel to the right, trying to realign the wheels, but they don’t respond. Instead, in one horrifyingly real moment, the truck slides off the road straight toward the drainage ditch.
A scream bursts from me as the truck dips into the ditch with a thud, knocking me against the steering wheel with the force of it.
Once I catch my breath, I struggle to change gears, putting the truck into reverse, and slam my foot on the gas, pleading with fate to throw me a bone. Instead, what I get is spinning tires, gaining no traction in the snow and mud. I try again and again and again, tears welling in my eyes.
What am I supposed to do? I’m nowhere near the airport, and who knows how far from the cabin I am.
In a moment of desperation, I put the truck in neutral and climb out, stumbling down a few feet into the muck to try to push the heap of metal out with brute strength. But I’m not built like a hockey player. I’m built like a damn hockey stick.
Well. I’m officially stuck.
I climb back into the truck, shivering in my now waterlogged clothes. With shaking hands, I pull out my phone to confirm what I already expected—no signal. Classic Lost Haven.
Numb inside and out, I turn off the truck and lay my head against the wheel. Tears fall steadily down my cheeks, and for the first time since I arrived here, I’m really, truly, utterly alone. And thank God I am, because there’s no one to hear me cry.
I let it all out—all the anger, the frustration, the sadness, and let myself completely fall apart.
• • •
I don’t know how long I sit there before I hear the faint crunch of footsteps in the snow. I look up and over my shoulder, momentarily blinded by a flashlight shining through the back window.
Which is worse, freezing to death, or getting murdered by some lunatic who preys on women stranded on country roads? I haven’t yet decided when a familiar voice calls my name.
“Summer?”
Logan’s deep, gravelly voice fills me with the sweetest relief I’ve ever felt.
Whipping the door open, I half fall out of the truck and into his arms. He crushes me against his chest, those bulky arms holding me closer than anyone has ever held me. I breathe him in, letting his warmth spread through my freezing limbs. When we finally pull apart, he cups my cheek and looks down at me, his eyes brimming with worry and hurt.
“Are you okay?” he asks, scanning my face and body, checking for injuries. Knowing someone cares this much about my well-being is like a drug.
“I’m okay,” I say as I sniffle. “Just dumb.”
“You’re not dumb,” he says firmly, correcting me. “You just did a dumb thing. There’s a difference. Come on, let’s get you out of the cold.”
“What about the truck?”
“The guys and I will come and get it tomorrow morning. Believe me, no one is trying to drive down these roads tonight. Well, except for you. What was your plan, anyway? To leave the truck in the airport parking garage?”
I wipe some snot from my nose, laughing through the tears. “I’m so sorry, Logan. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “We can talk more when we’re back home. Let’s get you there soon before you freeze.”
Home. The word wraps around me like a blanket, and I realize just how fitting it is. Lost Haven really has become home. A home I was trying to run away from. But I guess one more night can’t hurt.
Logan reaches into the bed of the truck and pulls my duffel bag out with one strong arm, and I grab my laptop bag from the passenger seat. He offers me the other arm to lean on as we make the trek back to the cabin. I didn’t make it very far, turns out, so the walk isn’t too bad, especially with Logan’s giant footsteps paving the way. We don’t talk, but I can feel a very important conversation brewing between us.
Logan leads me back into my cabin and gets to work building a fire. Once it’s roaring, I stand just inches away from the woodstove, letting its radiant heat begin to defrost me.
“Here, take this,” Logan says, and I turn around to see him holding out a thick wool sweater. “Your clothes are soaked.”
“Thanks.”
I fumble with the zipper of my coat, my fingers frozen and barely functional. After a few moments of watching me struggle, Logan intervenes.
“Can I help?”
“Yes,” I say softly, and he pulls down the zipper of my jacket inch by inch. The whole time, I stare into his eyes, trying to read the dark expression on his face.
“What are you thinking?” I ask him, tilting my head to the side.
He meets my eyes for a second before peeling the coat off of my shoulders and kneeling in front of me to unlace my boots. “Come on, let’s get you out of these clothes. Then you can tell me why you were trying to steal my grandfather’s truck.”
Unexpectedly, I laugh. “I wasn’t trying to steal it. I guess I thought I’d call from the airport, and someone could come pick it up once I was in the air.”
“You really didn’t want to see me before you left, huh? Didn’t want to say good-bye?”
My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. I open my mouth to answer, but say nothing. What can I possibly say?
“Let’s just get you changed into something warmer. Then we can talk,” he says gruffly before standing and walking to the opposite side of the cabin to pour himself a drink. He keeps his back turned, either to give me some privacy or because he can’t even look at me. Probably both.
I look down at my wet pants and socks and slowly peel them off, then pull the wool sweater on over my head. It’s so big that it brushes against my bare knees. Even better, it smells just like him.
“All done,” I say meekly. As I step up behind him, he turns, chewing on a smile he tries to hide when I wave to him, my hands drowning in fabric. “It’s just my size.”
“You’re still shivering,” he says, stepping toward me and offering me his drink, some dark amber liquid, then he wraps a fleece blanket around my shoulders.
I accept the drink and take a sip. Whiskey. He laughs a little at the way I wince.
“I should’ve brought your namesake shandy instead,” he says coyly as I cough away the sting of the liquor. “You all right?”
“I’m okay,” I assure him, reaching out to take his big, rough hand. “I’m sorry for causing all of this trouble.”
“I don’t understand why you would just leave like that.”
The hurt in his voice almost breaks my heart in two. I never, ever want to hurt this man again. I close the space between us, close enough to feel his breath.
“I thought it would be easier,” I whisper as a stray tear runs down my cheek.
“For who?”
“For me.”
Logan surges toward me, capturing my mouth with his in a kiss unlike any we’ve shared so far. Our past kisses couldn’t possibly hold a candle to this one. This kiss—this incredible kiss—tastes like devotion and desperation. I can’t get enough of it.
Pressing onto my tiptoes, I wrap my arms around his neck just as he grabs my hips, yanking me against him with a growl. When his tongue brushes mine, I sigh into his mouth, all memory of the cold replaced by the fire of our touch.
What was life like before I stepped into Lost Haven? I can’t even remember.
“Logan,” I whisper against his lips between open-mouthed kisses.
His hands trail a path down my hips and over my ass to grasp my bare thighs, lifting me into the air and pressing me flush against him. Locking my ankles behi
nd him, I chase the sensation building between my legs by grinding against the hard muscles of his abdomen.
With a groan, Logan lowers us onto the bed, and soon he’s pulling off the very sweater he tried so hard to get me into.
We can’t fight this anymore . . . that much is obvious.
One by one, our clothes fall to the floor in a heap. The fire crackles faintly in the background, overpowered by the hammering of my own heart. Logan sits back to unbutton his jeans, surveying my naked body beneath him. He looks at me like he owns me, one hand running possessively down my body from my neck to my pelvis.
I squirm beneath him, eager to finally feel all of him inside me. But Logan has other plans in mind, leaning down to kiss me hard on the mouth before kissing and nipping a trail of kisses over my breasts, my belly, and finally, between my legs.
“God, Summer. Fuck,” he murmurs between adoring kisses to my clit.
I buck like a wild animal beneath him, moaning his name like it’s the only word I remember. It may as well be with the way his mouth is replacing every thought, every worry with pure, unmitigated pleasure.
When Logan resurfaces, his mouth is slick, and I watch with hungry eyes as he tugs off his jeans, reaches into a back pocket to grab a condom, and rolls it over his length, which is wow—impressive. Our eyes lock, but this time there’s no uncertainty between us.
We want this. There’s no stopping us now.
Logan sinks into me with one long, slow thrust. I press my face into his neck, my body shuddering in pleasure.
He murmurs sweet words, telling me how perfect I feel. The tilt of his hips is perfect, but the pace is maddening. It’s like he wants to feel every inch of me around him. When I can’t take it anymore, I urge him with my hips until Logan is fucking me truly, deeply.
It doesn’t take long for the tension between my legs to boil over, and soon I’m gasping through an orgasm that has me seeing stars. Logan moans into my ear, leaning over me as he rocks through his own release.
We lie there in a sweaty heap, catching our breath. Now would be the time for reality to catch back up with me, but all I can manage is to curl into his side and press lazy kisses against his shoulder. A smile twitches on his lips, and he sighs with total satisfaction.
Now all we need is for tomorrow to never come.
19
* * *
LOGAN
Sunlight filtering through the front windows wakes me, and a smile lifts my lips when I open my eyes. Summer is still beside me. She’s curled on her side, facing away from me, and I roll closer, tugging her warm body next to mine.
“Hey,” she says sleepily.
“You awake?”
“Sort of,” she murmurs, stretching and relaxing into me.
“How’d you sleep?” I ask, holding her close.
“Amazingly. Although I gotta say, I didn’t know you were the cuddling type.”
I chuckle. “I didn’t either.”
The truth is, I’ve never been the cuddling type before Summer. But the few times I woke up, I was happy to realize I wasn’t alone, that she was still in bed, warm and softly breathing beside me. I moved closer and held her then, thankful for her presence.
Resting my palm on her waist, I bring my lips to hers and give her a soft kiss. She wraps her arms around me, pressing closer, and I wonder if she can tell I’m hard. Although it’s not because I was having indecent thoughts about waking up with her this morning . . . I’m like this every morning. But now that she’s kissing me back, my body gets a bunch of new ideas about how we can make the most of our morning. I refuse to think about the fact that it could be our last morning together.
Matt’s words ring in my head. Find a way to make her stay.
Summer pulls back and meets my gaze with a shy expression. Her hair is loose on the pillow, messy from sleep. Damn, she’s gorgeous. Even having just woken up, without a bit of makeup on.
“Thanks for letting me stay,” I say, pressing my lips to her shoulder. “Last night was incredible.”
This time with her has been so much more than I was expecting. She’s so low-drama and sweet. My entire family has fallen in love with her. There’s that l-word again. I can’t seem to help myself from it constantly flitting through my brain, which is completely out of character for me.
I’m about to ask her if she wants to get up, maybe get some coffee, or even pancakes in town at a great diner I know, when Summer trails her fingertips over my chest, then down over the muscles in my stomach. My pulse jumps, and I forget all about breakfast.
The press of her soft curves fitting against me sends a jolt of desire down my spine.
While her hand ventures under the elastic of my boxer briefs, I begin exploring too, testing the weight of her luscious breasts in my palms. Finally, I draw her panties down her legs.
A few minutes later, when I join us, her breath catches in her throat. It’s the best sound, so desperate and need-filled. Of the two of us, she’s the strong one, the one with her life together. She was sent here to help me—and here she is coming undone for me. I love it.
“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” I growl, picking up the pace.
She moans and clutches my hips in her hands to draw me even closer.
Our lovemaking is slow and unhurried, and completely perfect.
Which is why, when Summer is showered and had coffee, I’m shocked when she walks out of the bedroom carrying her bags.
The crunch of tires in the driveway catches our attention, and I look through the window to see a yellow minivan parked in front of the cabins. The sign on the side of the van advertises rides to the airport.
My neck feels hot, and when I turn to face Summer, everything inside my brain scrambles. “Sweetheart?”
“I called a shuttle service to pick me up.”
I give her an uncertain look. “You . . .”
She nods. “I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone by asking for a ride. But I need to get back to the city. It’s time.”
My chest throbs with the displeasure of that statement, and I rub at the tender spot unconsciously. Even though everything inside me disagrees with it, I give her a stiff nod and cross the room to help her with her bag.
Her duffel has grown considerably heavier since she’s been here. A stack of books that my mother insisted she take. A new pair of boots. A wool scarf that Grandpa Al loaned her and made her promise to keep. Then there’s the piece of my heart she’s taking with her . . . does she even know?
I swallow a painful lump in my throat as Summer opens the cabin’s door and waves to the driver. A gust of frigid air sweeps over us.
She turns to face me, but before she can tell me good-bye, I take her hands and squeeze.
“I don’t want you to go.”
The words are real, and raw, and I watch as Summer draws a quiet breath.
“It’s been amazing being here, Logan, but I—”
“Can’t you stay . . . even a few more days?” I pause, weighing my words. “We should talk about this thing with us.”
This thing. The word is entirely wrong for the depth of emotions I’ve experienced these past couple of weeks.
With a sad look, Summer shakes her head. “I can’t stay. I can’t be with you like this. It would be a huge conflict of interest, and my entire professional reputation would be shot. It’s all I have.”
“Summer . . .” I caress the back of her hand with my thumb. She can’t just walk away from something this big.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. No matter how much I might want to.” Her hand slips from my grasp.
“Would it change things if you were married? I mean, no one could hold anything against you if your husband just happens to play hockey, right?”
The stunned look on her face is priceless. I just shocked her, but I won’t apologize for thinking big, crazy thoughts. Marrying Summer would be crazy, but also . . . well, perfect.
When her shock fades away and is replaced by cool indifference, I k
now I’m not that lucky.
“No, I guess not.”
“Then marry me.” The words fall from my mouth without warning, without grace.
I’m not down on one knee, and I don’t have a ring, but there’s a sincerity in my words. An absolute truth. And isn’t that what she’s wanted from me this entire time—facing my truth, letting myself be vulnerable? It doesn’t get any more vulnerable than this. I brush my fingertips against her cheek, tilting her face to mine.
Summer blinks. “I can’t . . . I can’t just marry you.”
My stomach lurches. “Why not?”
“Because . . .”
20
* * *
SUMMER
Because.
The word hangs between us as my mind goes blank.
Logan blurted out a marriage proposal without even thinking. Of course I can’t hold him to it. But he’s still watching me, and despite the intensity of our connection, there’s no way I can marry him.
But why not?
I’m falling in love with him. And with his big meddling family. Isn’t this everything I’ve ever wanted?
Of course it is. Say yes, my brain pleads.
“I just can’t,” I say after a long beat of silence.
“Okay,” he says softly and releases my hands.
The shuttle driver steps out of the minivan and comes around to help with my bags, seemingly oblivious to the enormity of the moment he’s interrupting.
Ignoring him, Logan pulls me close for one last hug, causing a sharp ache to pierce my chest.
“Good-bye, Summer,” he whispers against my hair.
“Good-bye, Logan.”
• • •
I held myself together for the entire shuttle ride, all the way through airport security and for ninety percent of the flight from Durango to Denver. But there’s something about this second flight, the one from Denver back to Boston, that feels different. More final.
As I buckle my seat belt in my lap and pull it tight, the last of the mountain air deflates from my lungs. This is it. I’m going home. And to be totally honest, I’m feeling about a hundred different ways about it.