Page 53 of Healing Hearts at the Christmas Inn
Logan had spent exactly one afternoon with her yesterday, building a snowman in fake snow while two twelve-year-olds conned them into an ice cream bet. And somehow, in those few hours, she'd gotten under his skin in a way that felt both terrifying and inevitable. No, that was a lie. Charlie had started to burrow beneath his skin the moment he’d laid eyes on her.
Logan had lain awake half the night thinking about her. About the way she'd laughed when snow hit her shoulder. About the competitive fire in her eyes when Maddy challenged them.About the careful way she'd handled Trinity's emotions and Holly's quiet grief that shone from her eyes like a beacon. About the moment their snowman had come together, and she'd looked at him with that smile that made his chest tight.
Betty would have liked her, he thought suddenly, then felt guilty for thinking it.
Logan shook his head and started down the hallway toward the sun room. He'd seen Charlie head that way after breakfast, laptop in hand, probably planning to work despite being on vacation. The woman didn't seem to know how to stop, which he understood more than he wanted to admit.
She wasn’t in the sun room, but he found her in the small library off the main lobby, tucked into one of the wingback chairs near the window. Morning light streamed across her shoulders as she typed, her dark hair pulled back, reading glasses perched on her nose. She'd traded yesterday's casual clothes for something more professional but still relaxed. Slacks and a soft sweater that probably cost more than his entire wardrobe.
She looked up when he entered, and Logan's heart did that stupid flip thing again.
"Morning," he said, managing to sound almost normal.
"Morning." Charlie pulled off her glasses, and her expression shifted to something more guarded. The warmth from yesterday was buried under professional polish. "Can I help you with something or are you just in here looking for a book?"
Logan closed the library door behind him, suddenly aware of how this might look. Alone in a room with a woman he barely knew, asking for a favor that could easily be misconstrued.
“No, I was looking for you,” Logan croaked. He cleared his throat. "Actually, I was hoping you could help me. Or rather, hoping you could help us with a legal problem the inn has." He was already making a mess of this. "I need to ask you something. But not as a guest. As an attorney."
Charlie's eyebrows rose. She closed her laptop slowly, giving him her full attention. "I'm listening."
Logan moved closer but stopped a respectful distance away, clutching the envelope like a shield. "The Christmas Inn is in trouble. Financial trouble. The bank is foreclosing, and there's a development company circling like vultures. They're trying to accelerate the timeline and pressure Jack into giving up." He paused. "We need legal help."
Something flickered in Charlie's expression. Not surprise, exactly. More like confirmation of something she'd already suspected.
"You don’t look too surprised by that news," Logan said, reading her face.
Charlie's mouth curved slightly. "Martha mentioned the inn was struggling at the decorating contest yesterday.” She cocked her head slightly. “She said that it hasn't been the same since Jack's father died." She leaned back in her chair.
“I sometimes forget how small this town is. When you’re at the inn, you feel like you’re on the edge of the world, far from anyone else.”
“Amazing how news travels in them,” Charlie agreed. “News spreads like wildfire here.”
Logan rolled his eyes. "It certainly does."
"I think it's quaint." Charlie's tone was light, almost teasing. "After living in a big city like Miami, where you can barely remember your neighbors' names, it's kind of nice. People caring about each other's business."
"Even when that business is none of their business?" Logan prompted.
"Especially then." Charlie's smile widened, and Logan felt that pull again. The one that made him want to move closer, to keep her smiling, to see what other expressions he could coax from behind that professional mask.
He forced himself to focus. "Would you be willing to look at the foreclosure documents? Give us your professional opinion on what we're dealing with and what our options are?"
"Of course." Charlie started to reach for the envelope, then paused. "But Logan, I'm on vacation. I can't take this on as a client in any official capacity without going through my firm's intake process. And that would mean fees, retainers, the whole corporate song and dance." She looked at him questioningly. “So it would just be me and not my firm representing the inn.”
"I know. That's why I need to ask you to do this quietly. Off the record." Logan's hands tightened on the envelope. "Jack can't afford legal fees right now. He's barely keeping the lights on. But if I tell him I've asked you to help and offered to pay you, he'll refuse. His pride won't let him accept what he sees as charity. But I can pay you, and if you can..."
Charlie's expression shifted, understanding dawning as she cut him off. "So you want me to pretend I'm doing it for free, while you pay me out of your own pocket?"
"Yes." Logan met her eyes. "I know it's deceptive. I know Jack will be furious if he ever finds out. But I don't care. This inn is a part of his family's legacy. It's been in the Christmas family for over a century. I grew up here. My parents worked here. This place is..." He trailed off, struggling to put into words what the inn meant to him. "It's home. And I'll do whatever it takes to save it."
Charlie studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she stood, crossing the distance between them until she was close enough that he could smell her perfume. Something subtle and expensive that made his head swim.
"I'm not surprised," she said quietly. "About the inn being in trouble, I mean. I've noticed things. The careful patches, the strategic decorating. Holly mentioned it yesterday." She paused. "We want to help, Logan. All of us."
"You've only been here two days."
"Two days," Charlie repeated, and something shifted in her expression. Softness breaking through the professional veneer. "And somehow it already feels like more than that. Like we're supposed to be here. Does that sound crazy?"
