Chapter 8 Logan #2
"I will. Let me just get my key and take my bag up,” Charlie’s words snapped him back to the present.
“I can do that for you," Logan said, darting from behind the desk and grabbing her suitcase as Charlie turned back toward him, her eyes colliding with his and doing strange things to the speed of his heart.
"Oh, would you, sweetheart?" Julie asked, and caught his eyes, making him frown at the look that flashed through them and… Was that a knowing smile? Before he could ponder on it Charlie drew his attention toward her.
"No, it's okay. I can do it," she protested.
"Please." Logan lifted her bag a little too eagerly and felt like he was snatching it away. Good grief, Miller, what is wrong with you? Then he blurted: "It's the least I can do to make up for nearly squashing your luggage."
Julie, bless her, pursed her lips, and Logan knew then that she could see him fumbling around like a schoolboy with a crush, and seemed to be enjoying this far too much.
“Go have something to eat, dear. We'll take care of your luggage,” Julie told Charlie.
Logan saw Charlie hesitate for a second and give him a hooded glance before nodding. "Thank you."
Julie handed Charlie her key and sent her off to the dining room with her niece, then turned back to Logan without bothering to hide her knowing smile this time.
"Don't," Logan said, pointing at her. "Whatever you're thinking, don't."
Julie's smile widened. "I have no idea what you mean."
Logan shook his head, his grip tightened on Charlie’s bag, and he followed Julie up the stairs to the penthouse suite. She led him down the hall and unlocked the door, stepping aside so he could bring Charlie's bags in.
The suite, while a little shabby to the trained eye, was beautifully decorated for the holidays, with a view of the ocean that always took his breath away. Logan set the bags down and took a quick look around, nodding in approval.
"You and Jack did a great job patching this place up," he said.
Julie's smile faltered, and Logan saw the worry flash in her eyes before she could hide it.
"We did what we could with what we had until we can give it a real renovation,” Julie explained.
“It looks great, Julie,” Logan assured her.
“I'm so glad you're both home," she said quietly. "I know between you and Jack, you'll save the inn. Get it restored to its former glory."
Logan crossed the room and took her hands in his. "Julie, don't worry. I won't let anyone take this place away from you. I promise."
She squeezed his hands, her eyes glistening, then nodded and led him back downstairs.
They'd barely reached the lobby when a blur of auburn hair came hurtling from the side hallway where the Christmas family's private quarters connected to the inn.
"Uncle Logan!" The familiar female voice came right before Jane threw herself into his arms, and Logan caught her easily, lifting her off the ground in a bear hug.
"Hey, beautiful lady," he said, kissing the top of her head. "You know I've told you you're too old to call me Uncle Logan." He set her down and grinned. "And it makes me feel old when you do."
Jane's eyes narrowed teasingly. "Is that your way of telling me I'm old? Because you do know that thirty is the new twenty." She raised a brow. "So I'm still quite young, then."
"Then that would make me... uh..." Logan pretended to calculate. "In my forties?"
"Nothing will make you be in your forties again," Jack said, strolling in behind his daughter. "But who wants to be forty again? I'm comfortable with us being in our fifties."
Logan turned and pulled Jack into a man hug, clapping him on the back. "Speak for yourself."
They parted, and Logan was nearly bowled over by a massive chocolate-brown blur.
Duke planted his paws on Logan's chest, his tail wagging, jaw moving, as he whined excitedly.
"Whoa!" Logan laughed, catching the dog's paws. "You've grown a bit since I last saw you."
"Since you gave him to my daughter as a homecoming present?" Jack said, his tone dry but warm.
Logan grinned, scratching behind Duke's ears. "Well, Molly's been gone for years, and the inn needed a new mascot."
His mind flashed to the old sheep dog the Christmases had had for years.
Logan turned and glanced at a picture of the beautiful black and white dog hanging proudly on the wall behind the desk, and his smile deepened as his resolve to help save the inn sharpened.
There was way too much history here to lose.
Logan glanced at Jane, and his heart ached at the shadows lingering in her once-vibrant eyes.
He knew that pain. Knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, to carry grief that never quite let go.
Jane was like a daughter to him. He'd been her guardian when she was a kid, and not having children of his own had made her even more special to both him and Betty.
Truth be told, he'd thought Duke would be good for her. Give her someone to care about again. Something to bring light back into her life.
"Come on," Jack said, clapping Logan on the shoulder. "Let's grab you some food. You look like you're about to keel over."
Logan followed him to the dining room, where Isabella had set out a feast. He ate quickly, barely tasting the food, his mind still half on the inn's problems and half on the woman with the green eyes who'd shouted at him in the parking lot.
After dinner, Jack led him to the office. It was a small room, cluttered with papers and old ledgers, the desk covered in invoices and blueprints. Jack closed the door behind them and leaned against it, his expression grim.
"Alright," Logan said, crossing his arms. "What aren't you telling me?"
Jack hesitated, then moved to the desk. He pulled open the bottom drawer and retrieved a thick envelope, its edges crumpled from being shoved out of sight.
He set it on the desk in front of Logan.
Logan picked it up, his stomach sinking as he read the bold red letters stamped across the front.
NOTICE OF INTENT TO COLLECT.
He pulled out the papers inside and scanned them quickly, his jaw tightening with every line.
The development company wasn't just interested in buying the inn's debt. They were actively working to accelerate the foreclosure process. The letter outlined their intention to purchase the outstanding balance from the bank and move forward with the acquisition within sixty days.
Sixty days.
Logan set the papers down, his hands flat on the desk. "Jack."
"I know." Jack's voice was rough. "I didn't want to tell you over the phone. Didn't want to tell anyone until I knew what we were up against." He glanced at the office door. “I didn’t want to ruin Christmas.”
Logan looked up, meeting his friend's eyes. "We're not going to let this happen." He tapped the envelope.
Jack nodded, but the doubt in his expression was clear.
Logan leaned back in his chair, his mind already racing. Sixty days. They had sixty days to come up with a plan, to save the inn, to keep the Christmas family's legacy intact.
It wasn't much time.
But it would have to be enough.
"We'll figure it out," Logan said, his voice firm. "Together."
Jack exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Together."
Logan glanced down at the papers again, his jaw set.
This was going to be a fight. But if there was one thing Logan Miller knew how to do, it was fight for the people he loved.
And he wasn't about to lose this one.