Even when it feels impossible for us to be any closer, I slide my hands up her legs and scoop her up against me. She clings to me, breaking the kiss only to look longingly into my eyes as she sinks down onto my shaft, hot and liquid. My breath catches in my throat as I thrust into her, noting this moment as one I will never, ever forget.
“Logan, I . . . love you,” she gasps between stifled moans.
“I love you too, Summer,” I grit out, crushing my mouth to hers as we cleave to each other, riding out our releases together.
“Oh my God.” Summer laughs, fighting to catch her breath.
Reluctantly, we detach from each other, and Summer puts on a stray shoe that got kicked off in all the action.
“Time for the walk of shame,” she murmurs. “We’re going to look insane.”
I pluck a piece of straw from her hair. “We could just sneak out the back and head for our cabin, you know.” I try not to sound too eager about the idea. This is her call.
“Ours?”
I nod, happy to remind her that everything that is mine is now hers. The smile I get in return is worth more than any of the wedding gifts piled high inside the house. Although I am excited to watch Summer open those later, and even more excited to pick out the home we’ll fill with all our new treasures. The home we’ll raise children in and grow old together. I can hardly wait.
Summer taps one pink-painted fingernail against her lower lip. “Tempting,” she says with a hum. “What about your family?”
“They’ll put two and two together,” I say coolly. “Besides, we’ll see them all at brunch tomorrow.”
“And Les?”
“He’s in one of the guest rooms.”
She chews her lip for long enough that I almost believe she’s on the fence. Finally, she relents with sparkling eyes. “Okay, rookie. Let’s get outta here.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
EPILOGUE
* * *
SUMMER
“The oddest thing happened in town tonight,” Logan says, shedding his coat.
I meet his eyes, and they’re alight with curiosity. “What?”
“Well, we were at Duke’s Tavern grabbing a beer . . .”
He joins me on the sofa in front of the fire after slipping off his boots. I nod and listen as he begins his story.
We’re home for a quick spring break, visiting family in Lost Haven for three days. It’s not long enough, but Logan’s in the middle of the hockey season. Our visit here is so short that he felt bad about taking an evening to go out with his brothers, but I convinced him it was a good idea under the guise of brotherly bonding. Lord knows they need it—there’s enough fighting between them as it is.
While the brothers were gone, Grandpa Al, Jillian, and I played cards, enjoying a lovely charcuterie board she’d put together for us to snack on. Olives and dried figs, rosemary crackers, and cheese, of course. Lots of cheese. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much cheese.
Logan continues. “We’d just ordered our first round of beers when Ella Emerson stumbled over to our table.”
“Ella?” It’s a name I’ve never heard him mention before.
He nods. “Our neighbors, the Emersons. Three daughters. Ella’s the youngest.”
I didn’t even realize you could consider the property on the other side of their sixty acres a neighbor, but I nod for him to continue.
“She’s just turned twenty-one and probably had too much to drink, but she was with friends, so it wasn’t something to worry about. Not really.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, wondering where this story is going.
“Except Graham was worried. Like an overprotective mother hen. First, he took off his jacket and placed it over her shoulders, even though she insisted she wasn’t cold.”
I raise one eyebrow, recalling a similar move from Logan, who insisted on buying me boots when I first arrived here last year and snow was starting to fly. “What was she wearing?”
“Uh, a dress, I think.” He scratches at the stubble on his chin.
Actually, it’s more than stubble now. He’s been working on growing a beard the past few weeks at the encouragement of the guys on his team. They’re making a push for the playoffs, and apparently playoff beards are a thing. I still have a lot to learn about hockey. But he’s handsome both ways—clean shaven and scruffy like this.
“And then,” Logan says, continuing his story, “he asked her if she had a sober ride home. She said a friend was coming by later to pick her up.”
I’ll admit, my interest is piqued. In all the time I’ve known Graham, which admittedly isn’t all that long, he’s never had a relationship. Not even a one-night thing, unless he’s just super discreet. Which is entirely possible because Graham is one of the most guarded people I’ve ever met.
“He got up right then and tossed a couple of twenties on the table, and told her he was taking her home.”
“Wow.”
Logan touches my hair, brushing his fingers through the long strands hanging over my shoulder. I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it, but he’s always finding small ways to touch me. I love how affectionate he is.
“Yeah. And when Austen made a joke about Ella being too young for him, Graham looked like he was going to hit him.”
I laugh. Now that sounds more like the Graham I know—settling a minor dispute with the threat of physical violence.
“He left before he even got to talk to Duke, the owner, about getting his beer on draft there. It’s all he’s talked about for weeks, but he didn’t even wait for Duke to come by our table. It was like the second he saw Ella, his entire demeanor changed.”
“How so?” I tilt my head.
“All he could focus on was getting her covered up and out of there. He threw some money on the table and then drove her home.”
“He just left?”
“Yup.”
“Wait, wasn’t he the one who drove you all there?”
“Yup.”
“So, he just stranded you?”
“Yup.”
“And that’s why you’re late getting home?”
“Yup.”
Laughing, I place my hands on Logan’s scruffy face and pull him in for a kiss. His lips press lightly to mine, and a small thrill zips through me at the chaste contact. No one has ever affected me like my husband.
We talked about a long engagement, about taking our time. But in the end, we were married within a couple of months of meeting each other. When you know, you know, as they say. And I knew Logan was my forever.
We had a long discussion about our future after we got engaged. Logan plans on playing hockey for another five or six seasons. He said his plan is to retire from professional hockey by the age of thirty, and then we plan to start a family.
I’m completely on board with that plan. The idea of five years to build my practice, five years to enjoy the newlywed lifestyle I already love—it sounds perfect to me.
I’m still so thankful our paths crossed the way they did. I took a big chance coming out here to work with him, but I guess that risk paid off. I smile as he brings his arms around me and holds me close.