Susan Wiggs - Candlelight Christmas

She laughed. All right, so he wasn’t judging her. “The job’s not that much fun every day, but I can’t complain.”

“Coolness. The more I get to know you,” he said, “the more I like you.” He put a couple of English muffins in the toaster. “Peanut butter, strawberry jam or both?” he asked.

“Be still, my heart.”

Oh, this was bad. Because she liked him, too, but he was everything she wasn’t looking for—a single dad, a man who had said, practically at their first meeting, that he wanted a big family. The idea made her stomach tighten with tension.

“You’re going to love hanging out with me,” he said, slathering the English muffins with peanut butter and jam, and handing her one

“What makes you think I’m going to hang out with you?” She took a bite of the warm, gooey muffin. It was almost as delicious as kissing him.

“Because I have a ski resort. I mean, I’m part of the investment group, but I’m the controlling partner and general manager.” He paused and watched her savoring the muffin, seeming to focus on her lips. Then he picked up a napkin and gently dabbed at the corner of her mouth. “You inspired me,” he said simply.

It was the last thing she expected to hear from him. “Huh?” she said, with peanut butter charmingly stuck to the roof of her mouth.

“Last summer, when you talked about taking risks.”

“I can’t believe you remember that.” She was flustered...but flattered.

“So in the future, if you need a location for doing your gear testing and photo shoots, I can offer you carte blanche at Saddle Mountain. Come check it out some time. Come soon.”

“Now, that,” she said, “is made of awesome. I’ll definitely tell my team. We’ve got a project going with a new snowboard company, and we’ll be doing a shoot sometime in December.”

“You ought to come give Saddle Mountain a try. We’ll give you VIP privileges.”

She polished off the English muffin, unable to recall enjoying a breakfast more. “Wow. I guess knowing the controlling partner is a perk.”

“Controlling partner?” Al O’Donnell came into the kitchen. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Darcy sensed it was her cue to leave. “I’d better hit the shower.”

“Don’t run off,” said Al, looking a bit sheepish. “Logan and I can talk about this later.”

“Or not,” Logan said good-naturedly, pouring coffee for his father. “Actually, I—”

A cell phone on the counter chimed. Logan checked it, and his face changed entirely, turning marble-hard with tension. “Sorry, I have to take this. Excuse me.” Grabbing the phone, he stepped out to the backyard.

Darcy took a sip of coffee. She slid the cream pitcher across the counter toward Al. Your son just kissed me, she thought. And then: I liked it. She hoped she wasn’t blushing too much. “Ah,” she said, “that awkward moment when one has no idea what to say.”

Al chuckled. “Nonsense. I didn’t mean... Logan doesn’t seem to understand how proud I am of all he’s accomplished.”

“Have you explained that to him?”

“Maybe not directly, but he knows.”

Darcy wasn’t so sure of that.

“We talked about that resort,” Al said. “That Saddle Mountain place. I was hoping it was just a passing fancy. I didn’t think he’d actually go for it. Sounds like a leap off the fiscal cliff to me.”

She didn’t say anything. This was between the two of them. Yet Al seemed to want to talk. He seemed like a good guy—blustery, bossy, but kindhearted. India adored him. And he was certainly good-looking, big and athletic, his abundant red hair fading at the temples. When she regarded Al, she could picture Logan thirty years from now. Scary thought—she enjoyed picturing Logan thirty years from now.

“He’s always been too fond of skiing and snowboarding,” Al said, pacing back and forth. “People think that just because they love something, they can make it their life’s work.”

She laughed. “Al. Listen to yourself.”

“Okay, but still. If you saw your kid about to step off a cliff, wouldn’t you be concerned?”

“Logan seems pretty sturdy to me. I wouldn’t worry.”

“Why’re you worrying about Dad?” asked Charlie, coming into the kitchen. His face was still sleep-soft, making him look even younger than ten.

Darcy was struck by an urge to reach out to him. Kids needed hugging. “For somebody who doesn’t like kids,” Logan had said, “you sure like kids.”

“Should I worry about Dad?” Charlie asked, absently scratching his cheek.

“Of course not,” said Al, giving him a kiss on the head. “You have a great dad.”

“You can say that again.” Logan came back into the kitchen, phone in hand. “I’ve got a little news, Charlie-my-man.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows shot up.

“Your buddy André?”

“From Camp Kioga, yeah! What about him?”

“He and his sister are going to be spending Christmas with us.”

“Cool!”

“What?” asked Al, another thunderous frown darkening his face.

“Christmas at Willow Lake,” said Logan. “How does that sound?”

“We always have Christmas here,” said Al.

“And now I really am hitting the shower,” Darcy announced. She truly did not want to be in the middle of this. It sounded like a family matter. It sounded eerily like her own family—the arguing, the affection, the power struggles, the sense of caring, sometimes caring so much that it hurt.

Logan heard the clack of suitcase wheels on the adobe tile of the foyer, and knew Darcy was about to depart. Fresh out of the shower, he leaned toward the mirror to make sure he hadn’t missed a spot shaving, then hurried downstairs to tell her goodbye.

He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stay. He wanted to kiss her some more, for sure. He wanted to make out with her, run his hands over that amazing, athletic, taut body, inhale the flowery smell of her hair, taste the strawberry jam on her lips...

Not possible, though. She had to rush back to the city and Lake Placid and her work project, while he had to wrap up the holiday here, tell Charlie goodbye until Christmas and get back to Avalon for work. Most of all, he had a project that was going to take all his energy and focus. He had to prepare to look after Maya Martin’s children.

It was probably for the best that he and Darcy had been interrupted before they even got started.

But holy crap. It was going to be a long time before he forgot about that kiss.

Darcy was in the foyer with his sisters and mother, doing a final check—phone, boarding pass, rental car key. “This has been such a fantastic stay,” she was saying. “Thank you so much for having me.”

“Wish you could have stayed longer,” said India, who then turned to Logan. “Right, Logan?”

“Of course.” He grinned at his sister, wondering if she’d guessed her matchmaking had worked, even just a little. Then he moved past her. “Glad you were here for the holidays,” he told Darcy.

“Me, too.” She held him with that direct look of hers. “Thanks again for including me at the children’s center. Oh, and the surfing. And the dolphins.”

“I can’t take credit for the dolphins,” he said.

“You saw dolphins?” India asked.

“Yep, while surfing,” Logan said. “Let’s go back with the kids this afternoon, see if we can spot them again.”

“It was unforgettable,” Darcy said softly, and he noticed a touch of color in her cheeks. Then she said her goodbyes to everyone else.

After she’d gone, Logan decided to bring up the topic of Christmas with his parents and sisters. He hadn’t intended to drop two bombs at once, but circumstances made it necessary.

“We’re having Christmas here,” his mother said. “Just like we always do.”

“I’ve got a different idea,” he told her. “Avalon. Everyone’s coming to Avalon this year.”

“Where will we stay?” his mother asked, uncertainty shadowing her eyes. “There’s no way you have room for us all.”

“The lodge at Saddle Mountain,” he said. “I live there now.”

“What?” His mother stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

“I sold my house and moved up to the mountain.”

“And when were you going to tell us about this?”

“It all happened fast. I got a full-price offer as soon as I listed my house—a couple from the city who want a place near Willow Lake. I moved up to the mountain week before last. The residence there is old, but huge. It’s been operating as a B and B.” He’d sunk his profits from the house sale into the resort, where nearly all his resources went these days.

“What about your insurance business?” his mother asked, her face pale with distress. “Logan, you worked so hard to build it up, and you were doing so well.”

“I’m keeping a stake in it as a silent partner, but someone else is running it,” Logan said. “I’m putting all my energy into the resort now.”

“What?” His mother regarded him, aghast. “You did what?” She turned to her husband. “I thought you said you talked him out of it.”

“I believed I had,” Logan’s father said.

“Look, could we talk about this another time?” Logan said. “How about we discuss Christmas plans?”

“We already have plans,” his mother said. “The Costellos are having their usual Christmas Eve party at the Paradise Cove Clubhouse, and I’m cochair of the church breakfast.”

“Plans are made to be changed,” Logan said. “So I’ve heard.”

“I invited Darcy to spend the holidays with us,” India said. “Do you just want to throw her in the mix, as well?”