“Logan.” Her voice is a breathy whimper.
I smile against her skin.
Not to worry, sweetheart. I’m going to give you everything you need.
Gently, I ease the soft cotton of her panties down, my mouth instantly watering at the sight of all the slick, hot velvet beneath. With a shift of my weight, I’m between her thighs, teasing her with kisses on my way to her most sensitive spot. She responds with a quiver, and the sting of her fingernails sinking into my shoulders is more bliss than pain. She has her grip on me, and fuck, do I like it that way.
I test a few strokes of my tongue, savoring my name on her lips, first in low, breathy exhales, and eventually on long, sultry moans. I could get addicted to that sound if she gave me the chance. I hum my approval into her heat, memorizing her taste just in case I never get to enjoy it again.
“Logan, please,” she begs on a ragged breath.
I can barely hear her over the sound of the blood pounding in my ears. Then her spine arches off the bed, saying more than words ever could. She’s so sexy, so responsive to every touch of my tongue to her skin.
As her breath gets more rhythmic, so do I, finding just the right pace to stroke her as I suck her sweet flesh. With a gasp and a final shudder, I usher her right over the edge.
Watching her come is the most beautiful sight in the world. Which is why watching her leave is going to shatter me.
• • •
“Is she really going to go? Even in all this snow?” My mother eyes me from behind her coffee mug, utterly failing to hide her disappointment.
I didn’t want to be the one to break the news of Summer’s departure plans, but when she never showed up for breakfast this morning, someone had to say something. And that someone is obviously me.
“She’s packing now,” I mutter into my coffee, letting the bitter black liquid chase away the bitter feelings I’m having this morning. “So, once the weather clears, yes. One of us will have to drive her to the airport.”
Just saying it out loud feels like a punishment. Leaving Summer’s bed this morning was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I can only imagine watching her leave the state will be a million times harder.
“All the way to the airport? In this?” Mom sweeps a hand through the air, gesturing out the window.
Last night’s rogue snowflakes quickly became the first full-blown snowstorm of the season, leaving all of Lost Haven tucked beneath a thick blanket of white. I’m not sure if it’s a sign of a fresh start or an ominous good-bye to the woman who changed everything by stumbling, not only into my life, but into my family.
“And you don’t want her to go, do you?” The way Mom says it makes it sound so simple, as though just wanting something is enough to make it true.
It doesn’t matter what I want.
“Her life is in Boston.”
Even I’m annoyed by how flat and lifeless my voice is, but I’m sticking to the facts this morning. No feelings, no wants. Just the truth. And the truth is that before the sun sets tonight, all that will be left of Summer is the tire tracks she’ll leave in the snow.
“But it seems like she just got here.” Mom pouts, swirling her spoon in loopy infinity signs through her coffee, which is really more creamer than anything else.
“You know I have to go back soon too, right?”
She rolls her eyes, waving off the very suggestion like a foul smell. “Yes, but you have to go back. She doesn’t.”
The reminder is a punch to the chest. I remember our conversation from last night about how Summer doesn’t get an off season like I do.
Mom’s right. I’m under contract. It’s two flights and an hour-long drive up the mountains just to get here. The odds of Summer making it back to Lost Haven with her work schedule are slim to none.
“Her life is in Boston,” I say again through clenched teeth, silently reviewing the anger management techniques Summer taught me. I’m supposed to count down from ten.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
“But no, I don’t want to let her go.” The words come out before I can wise up enough to stop them.
Fuck it. This is how I feel, and if I can’t discuss it with my own mother, then who can I discuss it with?
“Then don’t let her,” Mom whispers, squeezing my hand. “It’s obvious you like her. Tell her how you feel.”
“She knows how I feel. But she has a job back in Boston, and so do I. I’ll be back there in a month.”
Mom’s stirring gets faster. “A lot can happen in a month.”
“She’s not going to fall for someone else in a month, Mom.”
“Really? Because you fell for her in less than two weeks.”
Shit. She has a point.
With a shrug, Mom presses up from the table, leaving me to marinate in this weird cocktail of worry and hope. “Summer isn’t the kind of girl who will stay single forever, honey. That’s all I’m saying.”
Just the thought makes me want to put my fist through a wall.
18
* * *
SUMMER
The blank line on the return-to-work form stares back at me, as white as the snow piled up outside the cabin window. I’ve been staring at these forms for the past hour, waiting for the storm to let up, and now I can barely see straight.
I, Summer Campbell, certify that Logan Tate is suited to return to work, and is ready and able to perform the functions of his position.
The words are all right there, plain and simple. All I have to do is sign my name.
The counselor in me knows that we’ve barely scratched the surface of Logan’s issues, but the romantic in me knows that if I stay here in Lost Haven any longer . . . well, I think last night is all the evidence I need that whatever is happening between Logan and me is the furthest thing from professional.
I told him I’m leaving today. So, why can’t I just work up the courage and sign my name to the paperwork that makes it official?
Les is right. I flew all the way out here and convinced Logan to do some counseling sessions with me. That was my job, and I did it. As for digging deep and really getting to the heart of his psychological issues, I did my best. It’s time to close this client file before I fall in love with the man. Although admittedly, it might be too late for that.
With a heavy sigh, I uncap my pen and do what I have to. One quick scribble across the page, and the deed is done. Signed, sealed, and now I just have to deliver it. Which means hopping on a plane and taking it back to Boston where I belong. Far away from Lost Haven, and far away from Logan.
Just thinking about him, about last night, makes my head spin.
Who falls for a guy in less than two weeks? Even worse, what kind of counselor falls for her client? And why don’t I feel more guilty about it than I do?
This whole situation is enough to give me a pounding headache, which is the last thing I need right now. I stare at the paper, trying to focus my attention to make the pain go away.
In any other situation, I’d be proud to sign these papers. I just successfully gave professional counseling to one of hockey’s top athletes. Instead, it feels like the end of a chapter of my life that I’m not sure I’m done living. Whether I’m ready to say good-bye or not, I’ve got a flight to catch.