Page 23 of Healing Hearts at the Christmas Inn
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, carefulnot 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.
