Candlelight Christmas. Сьюзен ВиггсЧитать онлайн книгу.
want to go paddling?”
She laughed. “In the dark?”
“A moonlight paddle on Willow Lake. Since it’s your first time here, you don’t want to miss the lake by the light of the moon.”
“Just the two of us?”
“Up to you. We could invite India along, or not...if you’re sufficiently over your broken heart.”
“Sounds like fun,” she said easily. “You sound like fun, Logan. And as for my heart...” She sighed. “Do we ever get over it? Or just through it?”
“Good question.”
“And?” She gazed at him in a way that made him glad he’d suggested the after-hours paddle.
“And I don’t know.”
Wow, he thought. There was definitely some potential here. “I’m glad India brought you to see the place,” he said. “My family’s always trying to fix me up.”
“Do you need fixing?”
“Depends on who you ask. You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”
She laughed. “I’m not afraid of anything. Except maybe—”
“Dad. Hey, Dad, check it out.” Charlie burst between them, brandishing a long stick with a marshmallow on the end. “Me and André are having a marshmallow war.”
“With flaming marshmallows,” André declared, bending back his stick, with a burning marshmallow on the end.
“Cripes, you can’t be doing that.” Logan grabbed the stick. “This stuff burns like napalm.”
“We’ll aim for the water,” Charlie said. “Da-ad.” He’d started a movement. Now a whole group of kids were catapulting marshmallows.
“Damn it,” said Logan, “I swear, Charlie... Excuse me,” he said to Darcy, and went to confiscate the weapons. By the time he finished and had the kids marching off to their cabins, Darcy had stood up, her shoulder bag in hand.
“I’m just going to call it a night,” she said. “Thanks for the offer, though. Maybe some other time.”
Great, thought Logan. Just great. “Say, the Pavilion bar is open for adults after lights out. How about we get a drink after—”
“Dad, guess what?” Charlie came running over. “Eugene wants to tell ghost stories again in the cabin tonight. Really gory ones.”
“You hate ghost stories.”
“Right. That’s why I need you to pull cabin duty tonight.”
“No can do,” said Logan.
“Dad, it’s my last night with you.” Charlie played his trump card early.
Logan felt torn—a familiar sensation. When you were a single dad, you felt pulled in a lot of different directions. “You and André can hang out. You don’t have to listen to the ghost stories.”
“Dad—”
“Hey, Logan,” said Darcy, “I’d better get going. We’re heading back to the city in the morning.”
No, don’t let her go. “Then how about we—”
“It was nice to meet you,” she said. “You, too, Charlie. See you around.”
Logan watched her go, then swung back to face Charlie. “Dude, couldn’t you see I was busy?”
“Hitting on some lady? Yeah, I could see that.”
“And still you interrupted.”
“I’m worried about the ghost stories.”
“I’m worried about your manners.”
Charlie gazed at the ground. “Sorry, Dad. I just really want you in the cabin tonight.”
Logan was a sucker for his kid. He hoped like hell he wasn’t a pushover. Hoped he wasn’t spoiling Charlie. The truth was, Charlie had a true horror of ghost stories ever since his cousin Bernie had told him the tale of the bloody toe last summer. The kid had suffered from nightmares for weeks afterward, and to this day still slept with his socks on.
Turning, Logan watched Darcy Fitzgerald as she walked along a lighted path toward the parking lot. For the first time in ages, he’d actually felt something strong and true, just talking with her. But one of the first things she’d told him was that she wasn’t into kids. It was just as well they hadn’t started anything, he told himself.
Chapter Two
“You are in such trouble,” Darcy said to India as they drove away from Camp Kioga to their hotel in the nearby town of Avalon.
“What?” India offered an elaborate look of innocence.
“You know perfectly well what. Your brother, that’s what. You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried.”
“Darce. I am trying.”
“And you’re totally obvious. This was supposed to be a relaxing, forget-all-your-troubles girlfriends’ weekend. You turned it into a setup.”
“I introduced you to my kid brother, that’s all.”
“He’s no kid.” She couldn’t get the image of Logan O’Donnell out of her head. Tall, athletic build. Blaze of red hair—not the dorky kind of red hair, but deep glossy waves of auburn, which she found ridiculously sexy. And his smile. He had an easy smile that made her forget, if only briefly, that she’d ever been hurt by a man. “He has a kid,” she added.
“That would be my adorable nephew, Charlie,” India said. “Thank you for reminding me.”
“Listen, because I don’t think you heard me the first time,” said Darcy. “The only thing I want less than a guy is a guy with a kid.”
“All men are not all like Huntley Collins,” India pointed out.
“I realize that. One day, I will embrace that truth. But I’m not ready to meet anyone.”
“You’ve been divorced a year.”
Divorced. Destroyed was a more apt word for it.
She had married a man who had seemed perfect for her in every way. Huntley was a single dad, sharing custody of Amy and Orion with his ex. Darcy had fallen for the three of them, opening her heart to a ready-made family.
Yet the children, dear as they had been to her, had also taken a hand in the demise of her marriage. As they grew older, they distanced themselves from Darcy, and eventually convinced themselves—or let their mother convince them—that their parents wanted to get back together.
Darcy still recalled the day her marriage had unraveled, though the memory no longer made her cringe. Huntley’s daughter, Amy, had come to her with a bright smile on her face, false as sunshine in November. Darcy had learned to recognize that hollow smile. It was hard at the edges, the grin of a not-very-skilled actress who knew her range was limited, and didn’t care.
“He’s cheating on you,” Amy had said. “With our mom.”
Darcy’s heart had stumbled. Then, clinging to well-honed denial, she had dismissed the notion out of hand. “Your mom and dad are just friends.”
“Nope, they’re back together. Check his email,” Amy said, a clean blade of triumph sharpening her tone. “In the drafts folder. That’s how they communicate. They never hit Send, just log in to the same account and read the drafts. They’re so stupid about it, though. They don’t delete correctly, so the notes still are all there.”
“Nonsense,” Darcy said. Yet the moment Amy had said those words—He’s cheating on you—her body was telling her to pay attention for once, to listen.