Snowbound Summer (The Logan Series Book 3)

by Clements, Sally

  He yawned. “I’m going back down.” He turned at the door. “Get some sleep.”

  “Well, I would if I could.” She couldn’t keep the edge of snark from her voice. “Sorry, I know I woke you and Fella, but I have insomnia, I’ve been trying to go to sleep for hours.”

  He rubbed the back of his head. His hair was standing up all over the place; he was rumpled and sleepy, and appealing as hell. Bed head looked sexy on him—at least she didn’t have to share what it looked like on her. She pulled the wooly hat down a fraction over her ears.

  He exhaled. “Do you want to come downstairs and have something hot to drink?” He didn’t exactly roll his eyes, but she was pretty sure he was holding one back.

  “Yes. I would.” She swung her legs out of bed, shoved her fluffy socks into Ugg knockoffs, and wrapped the blanket around herself. “That might help.”

  And if not, at least she’d have something attractive to look at.

  It was warm downstairs. Fella looked up as they entered, and wagged his tail. “Oh, look! He’s pleased to see us!” She trotted over to give him a pat on the head.

  “I’ll bring in some more logs.” He grabbed some from the wheelbarrow outside the back door and trudged to the stove.

  She filled a saucepan with water, and put it to heat. “You’re joining me?”

  Nick grunted. “Okay, maybe. I guess.” He rubbed his eyes. “Actually, no. I don’t think I can face tea right now.” He lay down on the sofa and threw the blanket over himself. His long legs stretched, extending past the ends. “You must have been uncomfortable.” A twinge of guilt. She would fit on the sofa easily, and seeing as she had little chance of sleep… “Would you like to go upstairs? You could slip into my bed and I’ll stay down here.”

  His eyes were dark in the shadowy light from the candle. “No point. It’ll be dawn soon.” He yawned. “If we’re still here tomorrow night, I’ll sleep in Declan’s bed.”

  She padded over to fetch a cup and a teabag, crossed to the fridge and fetched the milk. The water was simmering on the top of the wood-burning stove, so she took it off and made the tea. “Look…about before.” She added milk, then walked back to return the carton to the fridge. “I remember more about that day at the beach than I admitted.” She couldn’t look at him. “I was a real bitch that day.” She picked a spoon out the drawer and flicked the teabag into the sink. “I’m sorry.”

  Confession made, she took a deep breath and turned.

  Nick’s eyes were closed. His chest moved up and down in a regular rhythm.

  “Seriously?” She snuggled down in the armchair opposite, tucked the blanket over herself, and watched him sleep.

  Her own sleep was elusive, and by the time the darkness lifted with the arrival of a watery dawn, she’d given up hope of it and decided to face the day instead. She blew out the candle, and threw a couple of logs into the stove. Then she wandered to the window and looked out.

  Snow. As far as the eye could see. Nick’s land rover was covered in a thick frosting, and all signs of their footsteps from the day before were buried.

  She changed into rubber boots and went outside to investigate further.

  At least today the wind had died down. The scene was a pretty picture postcard—but freezing. She wrapped the blanket around herself and shivered. Branches of the oaks and beeches were weighed down with heavy snow. Beneath her feet, the snow was crispy, leaving distinct edges in her footsteps. There was no way they would get down to the village through this. Which meant there was no chance of getting the electricity supply restored during the day.

  Her sigh puffed out white vapor in the clear air.

  What can I cook, with only a wood-burning stove? She did a mental inventory of the ingredients she’d brought. Something all in one pan, there wouldn’t be space on the top for more than that. Maybe a soup. Or a stew. If there was any danger of the food spoiling in the refrigerator, she could store it outside—it was as cold as the inside of a fridge out here.

  Retracing her steps, she opened the door again. Nick was snoring softly on the sofa, contorted into an unnatural position.

  Fella looked up, and got to his feet.

  “Come on, Fella,” she said.

  He’d been cooped up all night, he must need to go outside, and he’d managed fine last night when Nick took him out.

  The dog walked stiff legged from his basket, stretched and yawned. “So you were singing along with me last night, were you?” She patted his head as he cleared the door.

  Seb had been a part of her family forever, but she hadn’t owned a pet since then. She’d spent every available hour at the restaurant, and owning a dog or cat had seemed selfish, as she would rarely be there.

  Fella sniffed around the base of a tree and lifted a leg. “Good boy.” In such a short time, she’d become attached to him. Maybe it was because she’d saved him—if he’d been left in the woodshed overnight, starved and listless, he would have died. Maybe it was because she could do with a companion to ease the loneliness of the past few months. Would he find a home easily? She hoped so. He was sniffing in the bushes now. “Time to go back in.”

  The tips of her fingers were going white. “Fella.”

  He ignored her. Then let out a bark.

  A rabbit popped out of a hole half hidden by snow at the side of the little clump of bushes and ran off into the woods.

  “Fella!” The dog took off after it in hot pursuit.

  Chapter Eight

  Nick woke to the sound of frantic shouting.

  He propelled himself from under the quilt. Fella was gone. Summer’s voice—outside. He ran to the door and tugged it open.

  Summer was shouting, staring out across the field.

  “What the hell’s going on?”

  “Oh, Nick—” She ran to him and grabbed his arm. “It’s Fella. He saw a rabbit and took off after it. I didn’t think he would be able to run, but…but...”

  “I get it. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the house.

  She resisted. “We have to go after him!”

  “There’s no way you’re chasing a dog wearing that.” He looked down at her pajamas. “Pull on your jeans and jumper and put on a coat.” He sounded like someone’s mother. Shit, he sounded like his own mother. But the air was so cold it stung his cheeks. He would be sensible, even if she wasn’t. “Which way did he go?”

  There were inside now, and he shoved his arms into his coat.

  “Across the field toward the river.” She was already heading for the stairs. “I’ll follow you.”

  Nick picked up his car keys from the counter. He always carried a dog whistle in his glove compartment. Armed with the whistle, he took off in the direction Fella had gone, running as fast as was possible in the thick snow. Fella’s tracks and the tiny footprints of the rabbit preceding him. “Fella!” He picked up pace. This much exercise could rip open Fella’s stitches—he needed to get the dog back inside as soon as possible. He shoved his keys into his pocket as he ran. There. In the distance he made out the loping form of the dog, heading straight for the river.

  At least rabbits don’t swim...He blew a short blast through the whistle, and slowed down as Fella stopped and turned. “Come back here, you stupid bloody animal!” he shouted.

  Fella looked away and kept going.

  “Shit.” Nick ran again and as he got closer blew the whistle again.

  Fella was on the riverbank. At the alien sound, he whipped around. His paws skittered on the icy bank, a macabre slapstick move like those seen in old black and white movies, and then he slipped, and hit the water.

  “Fella!” Summer’s shout was behind him as Nick rushed to the riverbank.

  The current was fast flowing; Fella’s eyes were wide and frantic as he struggled to make it back to the bank.

  “Oh crap.” Nick shed his coat, toed off his boots, and dived in after him.

  The water was so cold he couldn’t catch his breath. And flowing so fast, swimming
against it was near impossible.

  “What are you doing! You…” She was screaming stuff he couldn’t understand, couldn’t waste time listening to. Instead, Nick struck out to Fella. He managed to get a hand around the rope that still hung around Fella’s neck, and pulled him close.

  With the oversized dog clamped to his side, he struck out to the bank with the other.

  “Here!” Summer had knelt, wrapping her ankles through the broken trunk of a thorn tree by the water’s edge. She held out her hand, fingers wide.

  Somehow he made it to her. She grabbed his hand, and, her face, red and sweating with the effort, pulled him and Fella to safety.

  For a long moment, the three of them lay prostrate on the frozen blades of grass, breathing heavily.

  Then she untangled her legs from the tree trunk, and stumbled up to standing.

  “You need to get inside. You both need to get inside. Come on.” She grasped his hand.

  “In a minute.” His heart was still pounding from the effort. His legs were jelly; he doubted that they could hold him.

  “Nick.” She leaned down and stared into his face. “You have to move. If you stay out here you’ll get hypothermia.”

  Fella struggled to his feet, a sad, sorry excuse for a dog. He sniffed Nick’s face.

  Dog breath.

  “Okay, okay.” Nick sat then managed to get to his feet. With his entire body shaking, he staggered after her across the field to the house.

  *****

  Nick’s skin was pale—clammy to the touch. He stood in the middle of the warm kitchen, shaking uncontrollably. His fingers fumbled with his clothes.

  “Try to get your clothes off.” She took the stairs two at a time, racing to the bathroom where she grabbed two large towels. By the time she sped back to him, he had managed to rid himself of the sopping sweater and T-shirt. He was trying to unbutton his jeans. “Let me.” She shoved a towel into his hands and dropped the other on the kitchen table. “Dry your chest.”

  Her fingers unbuttoned the snap at his waist, then she unzipped him, and slid down his jeans.

  Commando.

  She breathed slow and steady, and tried not to react at the sight of Nick’s nakedness. The poor guy had enough to deal with without her embarrassment.

  “Lift your leg.” He did so, and she freed him from first one leg of his jeans then the other. She stripped off his soaking socks, and grabbed the other towel from the table and wrapped it around him, rubbing vigorously to try and get his circulation going—to heat his body.

  His crotch—she just patted. Then she stretched up, and rubbed his back, and over the curve of his butt while he dried his cock and balls. In a few moments, he was dry, but still so cold he could freeze water just by sticking a finger in it.

  “Get under the blanket.” She pushed him to the sofa, and draped the blanket over him.

  Then she turned to Fella and rubbed his fur dry with the towel.

  “Into your basket, Fella.”

  He did as she asked, and she draped a dry towel over him. The heat of the woodstove would soon warm him. Nick however...

  His face was still white, and his lips were going blue. Body to body. She’d seen a documentary about polar explorers, about what they had to do in cases of hypothermia. Nothing heated the body quicker than skin on skin contact.

  “Hold on.” She stripped off her sweater and removed her jeans. Then she pulled back the cover and plastered her warm body against his.

  She gritted her teeth as her bra pressed against his chest. Wrapped her arms around back and pressed her stomach to his. She wound her leg over his frigid thigh and ran her hands over his back, again and again. “You’ll warm up soon.”

  He was too cold to even smile, but his lips moved in a poor imitation of one. “I didn’t think,” he whispered.

  “Damn right, you didn’t think.” She rubbed his side, his thigh, the top of his butt. “You’re crazy, do you know that?” Her heart had almost stopped when she’d seen him dive into the water. She’d feared she’d lose both of them. And it wasn’t the prospect of having to explain to their parents why Nick Logan had lost his life in the river that made her frantic. It was the thought of never seeing his smile again. Never hearing him bossing her around. “If I’d lost you I’d have...” She bit back tears. Crying all over him wouldn’t help. She pressed her face to his, and kissed his mouth with a kiss so gentle, he surely must know what she meant. How much the thought of losing him had terrified her.

  “I didn’t think...” he started again, “this would be the way you’d take my clothes off.”

  On the snowiest day, the sun could make an appearance. In the worst of times, something could surprise you so much that laughter was the only response.

  Summer felt her mouth curve into a smile. The dark, heavy weight inside lightened, dissolving like molasses in water. She rubbed his back as hard as she could without hurting him. “You’re an idiot.” There was no sting to her words, just warmth. “A crazy, brave, impulsive idiot. Don’t ever do that to me again.” She ran her hands over his broad shoulders, down his firm biceps and over his elbows. “I think you’re warming up.” She eased back a little to touch his chest. Yes, he definitely seemed less chilled. She wrapped her arms around him, and leaned close to press her entire body against his once more.

  His eyes closed.

  She slapped him gently on the cheek, and his eyes shot open again. “No going to sleep. It could be dangerous for you to sleep now. You need to warm up and get something hot into you—some tea or soup. How are you feeling?”

  His lips had regained their natural color; all tinges of blue had disappeared. She ran a hand over his face, noting with approval the difference in temperature. The clamminess had gone, and it was no longer that horrible candle white.

  His head moved a little forward, then back. “I’m feeling better.” He still looked terrible, but at least he didn’t look half dead any longer.

  *****

  Nick was cold—not frozen. Summer seemed to think he was incapable of feeling anything. When the opposite was true. She’d stripped off his clothes and rubbed him everywhere—absolutely everywhere—with the towel. Her heart was in the right place, but Jesus.

  She’d thrown off her clothes, revealing her black bra and lace panties in front of him as though it was nothing. As though he was a block of ice.

  He was as cold as one. But not staring at her body was difficult. In the same way as one shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, it was as impolite to look a gift girl in the boobs. Even if she was trying to save you from freezing to death. He’d never been happier to dive under a quilt, but then she’d climbed in after him and given him full body resuscitation.

  The shivering had stopped. His skin felt cool, rather than frigid.

  Apart from one, very hot area.

  “I’m not apologizing for that.” He looked down. “I don’t have any control over it.”

  Her face went pink. “I understand.”

  “It’s because you’re not wearing much and you’re wrapped around me like a vine,” he said. “My body thinks it’s Christmas.”

  “It almost is.” She didn’t attempt to move away. Her hand traced lazy circles on his back. “I think you’re warming up nicely.”

  “I am.” Heat permeated through him, like warm milk on a stove. “I feel much better.” He angled around her to look at the dog in the basket. “He looks okay too.”

  “I dried him off, and he’s so close to the stove I reckon he should be okay.” Her hand kept moving, and her leg was still over his thigh. “What you did was very dangerous. What if I hadn’t been able to pull you out?”

  He nodded. He’d acted on instinct, rather than using his brain. The current was flowing so fast both of them could have been drowned. “I’m sorry I frightened you. I just couldn’t—”

  “Couldn’t let Fella be washed away.” She chewed her bottom lip. “I know. We both have become ridiculously attached to that dog. I hope he apprec
iates it.”

  “He must be feeling a lot better. He took off after that rabbit like a rocket. There’s definitely a hint of collie in him.”

  She stroked his shoulders.

  His cock jerked against her stomach.

  She smelled of flowers, of lemon, of summer. Of Summer. He pushed back her cloud of tawny gold hair back from her face. Saw her eyes change as she stared up at him. “Thank you.” He kissed her cheek.

  Her chin tilted up, bringing her mouth into alignment with his.

  This time, when they kissed, there was no trace of alcohol in either of their bodies. No clouded thinking. She made a small sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and deepened the kiss, arching her back to snuggle in to him.

  So far, she’d been the one touching. Rubbing. Holding. As the heat flooded through his body, warming the blood in his veins, Nick felt as though he’d been injected with a shot of adrenalin.

  Her body was beautiful. He wrapped his arms around her, and stroked down the long length of her spine, nape to base.

  She shivered, but not from the cold.

  His fingers traced the waist of her panties, then he slid his hands up her back again, and undid her bra.

  She did a weird move, a sort of undulation and wriggle, and then the bra was off, and her naked breasts were against his chest.

  “They’re cold.” He cupped both of them. “Gorgeous, but cold.” He trailed his lips down her neck, tasting a trace of salt on her skin.

  “I’m warming up too.” Her voice was husky, low, aroused. “I wish this sofa wasn’t so narrow.” She stroked the side of his face. “Will we go upstairs?”

  “To your bed?” This was getting out of control fast. The thought of spending the rest of the day in bed, exploring every inch of her with intense focus was difficult to resist.

  “I want to have sex with you, Nick.”

  Have sex. Condom. “Do you have any condoms?” There was probably one in his wallet, but one…

  “I...” She pulled a face. “No. I don’t. I used to be on the pill, but...”

  “I think I have one.” He stroked his thumb across her cheek. “Should we use it now or save it for later?”