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 press
ure 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?”
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.”
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