Chapter 8 Logan
LOGAN
The highway stretched ahead, dark and endless, the white lines disappearing beneath Logan's tires in a rhythm that should have been soothing but wasn't. His shoulders were tight, his jaw clenched, and a dull throb had started behind his right eye about an hour ago.
The kind of tension headache that came from stress and too many hours without food.
He should have left Tampa six hours ago.
Should have been at the inn by now, sitting down to one of Isabella's incredible meals with a cold beer in his hand.
Instead, he'd spent the better part of the afternoon dealing with Tara Wellington, and the thought made his grip tighten on the steering wheel.
Six months. He'd dated her for six months, and breaking it off a month ago should have been the end of it. Clean. Simple. But Tara wasn't taking no for an answer.
She'd shown up at his house just as he was loading the last of his bags into the truck.
Dressed to perfection, as always, in heels and a designer dress that probably cost more than his monthly mortgage payment.
Her smile had been bright, her voice cheerful, as she reminded him about some gala they had committed to before they broke up.
"It's just as friends," she'd said, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "I already bought the tickets, Logan. It would be a shame to waste them."
And Logan, because he was too nice for his own good, had found himself making excuses. Lying, which he never did. Saying he had work obligations, family commitments, things he couldn't get out of. Anything to avoid telling her the truth.
That he didn't want to go. That he didn't want to be friends. That what they'd had was over, and no amount of galas or charity dinners was going to change that.
Tara had worked as a top model for years before transitioning into promotions for the brands she used to represent.
She was beautiful, successful, and used to getting what she wanted.
And for a while, Logan had thought maybe they could work.
But the moment she'd started talking about moving in together, about taking their relationship to the next level, he'd known.
It wasn't going there. It wasn't going anywhere.
Because she wasn't Betty.
Logan's chest tightened, and he forced the thought away. Betty had been gone for eight years. Eight years since cancer had taken her, leaving him alone in a house that felt too big and too quiet. He'd loved her with everything he had, and losing her had nearly broken him.
But life went on. He'd learned that the hard way. And eventually, he'd started dating again. Casual relationships, nothing serious. Tara had been the longest, and even that had felt hollow.
He hadn't told her where he was going. Hadn't told anyone at his business, either.
He'd given his crew the entire month off, from now until January third, with full pay.
They'd been thrilled, scattering to spend the holidays with family and friends, and Logan had locked up the shop without a word about where he'd be.
Because Jack needed him. And the Christmas Inn was as much Logan's home as it had ever been Jack's.
Logan's father had been the handyman and manager at the inn for decades.
His mother had been the chef, filling the kitchen with warmth, laughter, and the kind of meals that made guests return year after year.
Logan had grown up running through those halls, climbing the dunes, helping his father fix broken shutters and leaking pipes.
The Christmas family had been his family.
Julie and James had treated him like a son, and Jack had been his brother in every way that mattered.
There was no way he was going to let some bank foreclose on that place. No way he was going to stand by and watch a developer swoop in and tear it down for condos or a resort.
The inn was a historic landmark. It had been in the Christmas family for generations. And Logan would do whatever it took to keep it that way.
The tension in his shoulders had started to ease somewhere around the halfway point of the drive. The music on the radio, the rhythm of the road, the promise of good food and better company had all worked together to loosen the knot in his chest.
By the time he turned onto the island, he was almost relaxed.
And then he pulled into the parking lot.
The inn was lit up like something out of a dream, every surface wrapped in golden lights that glowed against the night. Logan's heart lifted at the sight of it, and he swung into the first open spot he saw.
Too fast.
His headlights swept across the parking area, and he caught a glimpse of movement. A woman, standing beside her car, with luggage at her feet.
Logan hit the brakes, his tires skidding slightly on the gravel.
His front bumper came within inches of her suitcase.
The woman jumped back, her mouth opening in a shout he couldn't hear through the closed windows. But he didn't need to hear her to know exactly what she was saying.
Logan winced and raised a hand in apology, his face heating with embarrassment.
Smooth, Miller. Real smooth.
He cut the engine and climbed out of the truck, already forming an apology. But the woman had turned away, her back stiff, her shoulders set in a way that told him she was furious.
He didn't blame her.
Logan grabbed his duffel from the passenger seat and followed her toward the inn, keeping his distance.
She moved quickly, her heels clicking against the pavement, and he caught only a glimpse of her profile in the glow of the lights.
Dark hair pulled back, sharp features, a suit that screamed big city professional.
Probably a VP or something, judging by the tailored cut of her clothes and the expensive-looking bag she carried.
But there was something else. Something in the way she'd shouted at him, the passion in her voice, the fire in her eyes. It had caught him off guard, knocked him sideways in a way he hadn't expected.
She reminded him of someone.
Logan swallowed hard, the memory flashing before he could stop it.
Betty, standing in the courtroom, her voice ringing with conviction as she fought for her client.
Cool and commanding on the surface, but full of depth and warmth underneath.
She'd been an attorney who could win any case, who fought for justice with everything she had.
But she'd lost her own fight to cancer.
Logan shook his head, pushing the thought away as he stepped through the inn's front door.
The warmth hit him immediately, along with the scent of pine and cinnamon and something baking in the kitchen. The lobby was just as beautiful as he remembered, the wood floors gleaming in the firelight, the Christmas tree in the corner sparkling with handmade ornaments.
And there, behind the front desk, was Julie Christmas.
Logan's heart warmed at the sight of her. She was smaller than he remembered, her silver-white hair catching the light, but her smile was as radiant as ever.
"Logan!" Julie's voice rang with delight, and she moved around the desk to meet him. "I'm so glad you could make it. I missed you last Christmas."
Logan stepped past the woman at the front desk, dropped his duffel, went around the desk, and pulled Julie into a hug, careful not to squeeze too hard. "Hi, Julie. Wouldn't miss it for the world."
She pulled back, her hands resting on his arms, and studied his face with the same knowing look she'd had since he was a kid. "You look tired."
"Long drive," Logan said with a smile. "But I'm here now."
Julie's gaze shifted, and Logan followed it to see the woman from the parking lot standing a few feet away. Up close, she was even more striking. Tall, with dark hair and green eyes that held a mixture of irritation and something he couldn't quite name.
"Logan, I'd like you to meet one of our guests who just arrived," Julie said, and there was a definite twinkle in her eyes, which gave him pause and a moment of wondering what she was up to. "This is Charlie Burke. Charlie, this is Logan Miller. He's like a second son to me."
Logan stepped forward and held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you."
Charlie hesitated for half a second, then took his hand.
The moment their palms touched, something sparked. Sharp and electric, like static but warmer. Logan felt it shoot up his arm, and judging by the way Charlie's eyes widened, she felt it too.
She pulled her hand back quickly, her expression guarded.
"Hello," she said, her voice softer than he expected.
Logan cleared his throat, trying to ignore the lingering warmth in his palm. "I'm sorry about the parking lot. I didn't see your bag there."
Charlie's mouth opened, then closed. She nodded, then turned back to Julie, clearly eager to escape.
"Logan!" Julie tutted, though her smile didn't fade. "You weren't on your phone, were you?"
"No." Logan gave a nervous laugh.
"Sorry. Uh. Julie?" Charlie caught their attention.
"Oh goodness, where are my manners?" Julie turned back towards the desk. "I'm Julie Christmas. Welcome to my inn."
Logan hid a smile as he watched Charlie's reaction to Julie’s last name. Everyone who didn’t know the family was intrigued by it.
"Christmas? That's really your name?" Charlie asked, looking at Julie in disbelief.
Julie laughed and nodded. "Really and truly. It's my late husband’s family name."
Logan couldn’t resist the amazing Charlie move by adding, “Julie’s family name is Tincell.”
“You’re joking!” Charlie said, stunned, her beautiful eyes growing even wider.
“I’m afraid not,” Julie laughed.
Before anyone could utter another word, a young voice called from behind Charlie.
"Aunt Charlie!"
Charlie turned as the girl, no older than about eleven or twelve, hurtled toward her.
Charlie stepped away to greet the girl and exchange words with her.
Logan was so taken with how Charlie’s whole expression had changed when she’d heard the girl’s voice that he didn’t hear most of what was being said.