by Delia Latham
“I do. Summer, seriously, you have to do this at least once in your life.”
“Well, then I guess I’m building a house in the sand today.” She pulled in a deep breath of the damp, salty air. “Where do we start?”
He dropped onto the ground and pulled her down beside him. “Right here. Right now.”
****
He couldn’t stop sneaking glances at her while she played in the sand, delighted as a child when the castle began to take shape. This was no ordinary modern woman. She possessed an innocence, an honesty, a sweetness of spirit not common in today’s world.
He loved it. All of it. He loved her. Summer Callihan had stolen his heart even before he met her. God, what is Your plan for us? I sure hope it involves this woman being in my life forever, because I’m not sure I can live without her.
A tiny fist landed a playful punch to his arm.
“Ouch!” He pretended to fall backward, but slipped a lightning-quick arm around Summer’s waist as he fell, pulling her down with him.
Her eyes widened, and he felt her stiffen and then relax. She giggled and pounded his chest with feather-light punches. “I couldn’t resist. You looked so solemn! This is fun! Look at our castle. Isn’t it beautiful?”
Somehow, both of his arms had wound themselves around her when she landed on top of him. Suddenly aware of their far-too-familiar closeness, he rolled over, depositing her on the sand.
“Solemn? Who’s solemn?”
“You were.” Her eyes glimmered with laughter, her lips curved upward in a smile that robbed him of breath—so natural…so open…so incredibly beautiful.
Logan caught his breath, unable to look away from the lovely picture. His heart pounded with thunder force. If he could bear to take his gaze off Summer and look at his own chest, he had a feeling he’d see a visible, heart-shaped palpitation, throbbing in and out just like in the cartoons.
The thought made him grin and served to lighten the moment before he did something stupid—like kissing Summer and scaring her away. Instead, he tugged at a strand of tousled, silver-gold hair. “Well, I’m not now.” He made a show of rubbing his arm where her little fist had landed. “Something knocked all the somber right out of me.” Sitting up, he eyed the slightly lopsided structure. “You sure you haven’t done this before? That’s a mighty fine sand castle…for a newbie builder.”
Before Logan realized what was happening, a fistful of damp sand thumped against his chest.
Surprised that she’d been brave enough to do such a thing, his head jerked up, his gaze fixed on her face.
One hand flew to her lips and her eyes widened. She was surprised too.
But then she narrowed her eyes and pretended to glare.
Logan nearly laughed.
She couldn’t look threatening if she tried all day.
“What do you mean, ‘for a newbie’? That’s a perfect sand castle, Logan Bullard.” She laughed—a soft, throaty sound that set off a series of crazy vibrations along his spine—and then stood to walk slowly around the edge of their creation. “I wish I had my camera.”
He jumped to his feet, desperate for a moment away. His senses were all on overdrive, and he didn’t want to blow it, to lose this wonderful woman before he ever started winning her. “I’ll go get it.”
Her jaw dropped. “What? No. That’s silly.”
“I want to. Besides, I need to ask Miss Angie something. Is your place unlocked?”
She nodded, but her gaze said she questioned his sanity. “Seriously, though…Logan, you don’t have to walk all the way up there.”
“OK, then I’ll jog.” He grinned. “Where’s the camera?”
“It’s on a little table just inside the door, but—”
“Got it. Be back in a few.”
He turned and set off down the beach. After a few feet, he swung around, jogging backward so he could see her…and found her staring after him.
A beautiful rush of color told him she hadn’t meant to get caught. But she didn’t look away. She waved and raised her voice to be heard above the roar of the waves. “Hurry back.”
He nodded, and reluctantly turned away from the sight of her standing there, hair blowing in the breeze, cheeks kissed by the sun, lips tipped upward. Hurry back? Without a doubt. He missed her already.
The camera was where she’d said it would be. Logan picked it up and then glanced around the room. Neat. Tidy. Feminine. Like Summer.
Get out of here.
The words erupted from somewhere deep, deep within his spirit—clear and strong and undeniable.
He frowned. What had brought on that bit of spookiness? He was in no danger in Summer’s apartment at Paradise Pines. He gave his head a firm shake and turned to leave.
“Well, now. Look what the ocean washed in.”
The sultry, teasing voice startled him for an instant, but he knew to whom it belonged. Miss Angie had told him Summer shared the seasonal apartment with her cousin. If he hadn’t forgotten that little fact, he wouldn’t be here alone with her now.
She leaned against the jamb, in the archway between kitchen and living room. A mess of auburn hair that leaned heavily toward red tumbled over her shoulders and onto the very short, silky white robe belted around her waist.
“You, um…you must be Deah. Summer’s cousin?”
Up-tilted eyes the color of amber widened as she nodded. “You know my cousin?”
“Yes, I do, and actually…” He held up the camera, grateful for the excuse to flee. “She’s waiting for me on the beach. Nice meeting you!”
He grabbed the doorknob in a hurry, but a low chuckle sent icy fingers sliding over his spine. Pretending he hadn’t heard, he tugged on the door, but Deah’s voice stopped him.
“You can’t just walk into my place uninvited and not even tell me your name.”
He stopped, unwilling to be rude, despite a growing desire to escape the girl’s presence. “I’m sorry. It’s Logan.”
“Logan.” She sashayed across the room toward him, golden-brown eyes alight with something he didn’t like. “Just Logan. No last name?”
One long, thin finger touched his shoulder and slid slowly down his arm.
Go! Now!
Logan put one foot across the threshold. “Bullard. Logan Bullard. Look, I’ve really got to go. Summer’s waiting on her camera.”
“Oh, my cousin is the most patient woman I’ve ever met, Logan Bullard. Don’t be in such a hurry.” She slid one hand under his elbow and stepped so close he felt her warm breath on his face. “I’m more fun to play with. Why not stick around a bit?”
Logan’s throat closed and he struggled to breathe.
The face raised to his was undeniably lovely, but as he watched, her brown eyes wavered and became deep pools of turquoise. Long, straight, light-brown tresses replaced the wild, red ones. Pale, flawless skin took on an olive tone every bit as smooth and lovely.
Oh, Lynn! Why, why, why had his little sister chosen the route in life she’d taken? With sweet, loving parents like theirs, she’d still chosen a lifestyle that had broken their hearts.
And his.
Yet another inner prod roused him from his reverie—this one so vehement he almost felt a physical shove.
Go now!
He took Deah’s hand in his just long enough to remove it from his arm. “Sorry. Not interested.”
Her unusual eyes blazed with ugly anger, and her full lips thinned and twisted.
Without waiting for an answer, he rushed outside and took the stairs two at a time. A near-palpable wave of icy hot fury slammed him from behind, but Logan didn’t slow down. Given God’s prodding and the anger so evident in Deah’s eyes, he wanted only to remove himself as far as possible from the brazen young woman, as fast as he could get there.
He prayed Miss Angie would be in her apartment for a change, and breathed a prayer of thanks when she answered the door immediately. Thank You, Lord! This was an absolute first. The lady could rarely be found at home
unless she’d invited someone over.
“Logan!” Miss Angie’s voice sang across the bright day. She stepped outside and glanced around as if expecting to see someone else. “Is everything all right?”
Not, “Oh, what a nice surprise!” or even, “What in the world are you doing here?” Just, “Is everything all right?”
Was it possible she knew he was running for his soul? He suppressed a self-derogatory chuckle. Over-dramatic much? Opting to overlook her odd greeting, he placed a kiss on her cheek, even more glad to see her than usual. “Everything’s fine. I’ve been teaching Summer to build a sandcastle.”
She gave a slow nod, but her blue eyes narrowed. Not much got by this one. Finally, though, she seemed to relax and gave him a lovely, warm smile. “That’s good. Our Summer needs a bit of fun and relaxation. I was hoping you’d be willing to help out with that while she’s here.”
He shook his head, a guilty grin tugging at his lips. “You were, were you? Miss Angie, you had this planned all along, didn’t you?”
Her blue eyes widened. “Whatever do you mean, dear boy?”
Now he laughed out loud. “You play the innocent far too well…but that’s OK. I’m enjoying keeping your pretty guest company.”
“I’m so glad to hear it.” Her gaze drifted past his shoulder, fixed on something behind him. “Look there…it’s Freckle’s mother.”
A doe stood at the edge of the woods surrounding the lodge. A fine specimen…head lifted, back straight, eyes fixed on something at the side of the lodge. Freckle? Realizing he hadn’t seen the fawn when he climbed the stairs to Summer’s apartment, he mentioned it to Miss Angie.
She smiled. “Oh, I think Mommy took him for a run and a meal in the woods while Summer is off playing. I’m not sure why she keeps bringing him back, but I’ve watched her do it a couple of times already.”
He narrowed his gaze on the deer. She tossed her head and then melted into the forest. “I’ve never heard of deer behaving in such a way.”
“Nor have I. But I’m pretty sure our Father knows exactly what He’s doing.” She patted his arm. “Summer needs Freckle for some reason.”
“She needs him? I’m pretty sure she thinks it’s the other way around.”
“And you will not tell her any differently, of course.”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“I knew I could trust you.” She laughed softly, and Logan shook his head. Why was it every time this lady laughed he imagined angel song in the air? Maybe he needed a break from all things Paradise Pines. Maybe. But he didn’t have the slightest inclination to go away, even at the risk of his sometimes questionable sanity. As long as Summer was at the lodge, there remained a possibility he might convince her that he needed her more than that little fawn did that she cared so much about.
“Miss Angie?”
She raised a white eyebrow over a twinkling blue gaze. Did she already know what he wanted to say?
“About Summer…”
“Yes, dear?”
“I like her. A lot.”
“She’s quite likeable.”
“Yes, she is, but…well, I think I might actually love her.” He waited for the expected gentle-but-slightly-derisive laughter, but it didn’t come.
“Would that be such a bad thing?”
“No! No, not at all. It’s just that I hardly know her. But in a way, I do—I knew her before she ever arrived here at the lodge.”
“Well, that’s nice, dear.” Again, her response was unexpected. “You know, sometimes God brings special love to our hearts very quickly. There’s no law against loving someone right away.”
“You’re talking about love at first sight.”
“That’s how the Father loved you, you know. Even before you were born, He loved you.”
Logan opened his mouth. Shut it again. He’d never considered that before in relation to an earthly love. Could there be any comparison?
Miss Angie laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Logan, dear. Love is of God, Who is love. That’s 1 John chapter four and verse eight, you know. All genuine love is of Him, made by Him, and comes through Him. Nothing crude or ugly, of course. That’s not love. But real affection…pure, sweet love from the heart…that’s always of God. You don’t have to apologize for loving Summer. In fact…” She pulled in a breath and blew it out again, her gaze fixed on him. And then she smiled, and once again, Heaven sang.
“In fact?”
“In fact, young man, I have a very strong feeling God sent that beautiful girl here for just such a purpose as this.”
“Are you saying He sent her here for me?”
She lifted one shoulder and both white eyebrows. A cool, slender hand patted his cheek, and she turned to go back inside. But she stopped a couple of steps away and looked back over her shoulder. “You know the Father, Logan. Ask Him about it.” She stepped inside and the door shut behind her.
For a few moments, Logan stared at the oak entryway, his mouth hanging open. The woman had a way of stating what should have been obvious all along. Yes, he’d tossed little bits of prayer and hopeful suggestion heavenward, but had he really made his feelings, his questions, a matter of genuine, earnest prayer? He shook his head and trotted off toward the beach.
The little run-in with Deah faded to nothing in his eagerness to return to Summer and the sandcastle they’d built together. With every step, his heart grew stronger, his resolve firmer.
“Ask Him about it,” Miss Angie had suggested.
She was right. He and God needed to discuss some things, and the only thing keeping that from happening was Logan’s absence from the throne room. Well, he knew how to get there…the route was easy, just a trip to his knees. He’d make that journey in earnest tonight, alone in his room, with the rest of the world shut outside. And he’d stay there until he had some answers.
They spent another hour or so on the beach. When he walked Summer back to the lodge, her laptop tucked against his side, she paused beside the steps to her door.
“Will you wait here for a moment, Logan?” She reached for the laptop. “Let me take this up, and I’ll be right back. I have something for you.”
He waited, mystified.
She returned carrying a paperback novel and shyly held it out to him while tiny teeth worried at her lip.
Logan looked at the romantic scene on the cover and took in the title—Love Song. The byline read Shelby Callan. “You’re giving me one of your books?”
She nodded. “I hope you enjoy your first taste of fictional romance.”
He touched the tip of her nose, longing to pull her into his arms instead. “I will. I happen to know this author, and I can’t imagine what’s inside her head being anything other than incredible.”
Summer shook her head and gave a sweetly sarcastic eye roll. “You are quite the flatterer, aren’t you?”
“No. Just honest. I call it as I see it, Miss Callan…uh, Callihan.”
“Thank you for a wonderful day, Logan.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you again soon.”
Soft color crept into her cheeks. “I hope so.”
She disappeared up the steps and into her apartment.
Logan walked to his car in a daze, his head and heart completely filled with Summer. After turning the key in the ignition, he sat for a moment, staring at the book in his hand. He should have asked her to sign it. Maybe…he opened the cover and grinned at the perfect handwriting placed across the title page on a diagonal.
To Logan, who kept me breathing…and taught me to play in the sand. Summer (Shelby Callan)
Still grinning, he drove away, Summer’s novel open and turned upside-down on one leg. Every few minutes, when safety permitted, he picked it up and read the words again. Good thing his friends couldn’t see him now.
Logan Bullard, artist extraordinaire, a man who spent a good deal of time hiding from women who’d love to take him on a trip down the aisle. That man, driving down the road with a big, goo
fy grin on his face because he’d spent the day with a beautiful woman. That same man, going ten miles over the speed limit so he could get home and read a romance novel.
Yeah, he’d never live it down if they knew—and Logan didn’t even care.
5
He was back.
Summer dropped the curtain and stepped away from her window, heart pounding, mouth dry. Why was Logan back again? She hadn’t been all that surprised to see him yesterday. It seemed reasonable enough that he’d want to make sure she was all right the next day after saving her life.
But then, he’d stuck around most of the day. They’d hung out on the beach, built a sandcastle, had fun together. Doing things for no better reason than sheer enjoyment was so new to Summer. That aspect of her day with Logan had most likely built itself into far more importance than it actually held.
Still…here he was again. She’d heard an engine outside and peeked through the window in time to see him park his car—his very nice, luxury vehicle—and climb out, dressed casually but looking like a million dollars.
She hurried to the sofa and pulled her laptop onto her legs. Why was she so bothered that Logan Bullard had come to the lodge? He was probably here to see Miss Angie. What in the world made her think he’d be here for her, yet again?
Footsteps on the stairs outside her door put a stop to that train of thought. By the time he knocked, Summer had nearly dropped her laptop, tripped on the edge of the coffee table trying to save it, and stood in the middle of the living room with her heart threatening to burst through her chest.
“Summer?” He knocked again.
He knew she was here, of course. She’d told him she didn’t do too much of “the touristy thing,” as she preferred to hide away and write. Why wasn’t she answering the door? Summer gave her head a shake and pulled herself together. This habit of behaving like a scared rabbit around men had to stop.
Ha. Men, indeed. Logan was one man—the only one whose attention had ever elicited any kind of reaction from her at all. And she certainly wasn’t afraid of him. He was the nicest, most caring and gentlemanly man she’d ever known.