“Oh my . . .” Words fail me as Logan gently sets me down. “It’s magical.”
When we step inside, the cabin’s interior doesn’t disappoint. Sunlight pours through tall windows, a plush ivory rug stands out in the living room, and a stone fireplace stands at the ready for cooler evenings. The air carries traces of cedar and lemon, clean but lived-in. Not showy or pretentious—just cozy.
No wonder he retreats here.
Logan carries my bag to one of the upstairs bedrooms then leaves me to quickly change into my swimsuit. I’m eager to dip my toes in that pristine lake. When I return to the kitchen, Logan has already popped the cork on a bottle of champagne, the fizzy liquid dancing in two crystal flutes.
“To us,” he says, handing me a glass with a smile that reaches half-way to his eyes. “For making it this far.”
We raise our glasses, the delicate rims connecting with a musical clink. Maybe this trip was exactly what we needed—a chance to figure out what’s real and what’s pretend without the world watching our every move.
But before the champagne can touch my lips, a sharp knock shatters our bubble of tranquility.
I freeze mid-sip. Logan’s easy smile vanishes.
“Are you expecting someone?”
His head shakes once. “No one should know we’re here.”
Logan places his untouched champagne on the table before going for the door. When he swings it open, I catch a glimpse of blonde, glossy hair and perfect makeup
Victoria Delacroix.
The champagne turns sour in my mouth as every cell in my body goes cold.
What is she doing here?
“Victoria?” From the sound of Logan’s tone, he wasn’t expecting her, either.
Without waiting for an invitation, she brushes past him, rolling her sparkly suitcase behind her as her six-inch stilettos tap across the wooden floor. “It’s so good to be back here.”
Wait—back? Logan brought her here before and failed to mention that tiny detail. She is his ex, or so he claims, but this place was supposed to be his sanctuary. He should count his blessings that his eyes are fixed on her in surprise and not on me; otherwise, he’d get a hefty dose of my dagger-throwing glares.
“How did you know I was here?” Logan asks, shutting the door behind her.
“You used the company credit card again.” Victoria tosses her hair like she’s in a shampoo commercial, not even acknowledging my presence. Has she developed selective blindness, or is ignoring small-town schoolteachers one of her superpowers? “How do you think I found you in thatobscuretown you ran off to?“ Her voice drips with disdain, dragging out the word describing my precious hometown like it’s a piece of chewed up spinach stuck between her perfect teeth. “That’s why they let you off, you know. They always knew where you were.”
I can tolerate a lot. Her stuck-up attitude, the way she makes people feel like they’re ten fathoms beneath her, but I will not stand for insults against my place of birth. She couldn’t possibly comprehend the charms our small little town offers, especially during the holidays. I imagine her pea brain would short circuit at the attempt.
Her eyes finally sweep over me like a store security scanner, lingering long enough on my wavy floral dress for her immaculately sculpted eyebrows to fly up in a contemptuous arch. My chest tightens, anger sparking to life like a match struck against the friction strip.
The living room suddenly feels ten degrees hotter, and I swear the champagne bubbles in my abandoned glass are popping more aggressively.
Arms crossed over my torso, I return her gesture, my sneering gaze roaming over her from head to toe like she’s the one that belongs under the sole of my foot.
Victory is mine as her expression shifts, and she looks like Botox left her with a permanently stunned expression.
Logan glances at me with an apology swimming in his eyes, but I’m not ready to throw him a life preserver ring. Not when it’s obvious he’s still hiding things from me.
“Sounds like you have much to discuss,” I say flatly, then stride toward the front door, chin tilted upward in what I hope resembles dignity. “I’ll give you two some space.”
Logan begins to open his mouth as I pass by him, but I shoot him a look that would wither mom’s prized hydrangeas. He can save his explanations for Victoria.
Outside, I inhale deeply, letting the spring air cool the heat radiating beneath my skin. My feet carry me toward the dock almost automatically, seeking distance between me and the supermodel hurricane that just blew through our weekend plans.
The lake stretches before me like a sheet of blue glass, disturbed only by the gentle breeze that creates tiny rippling waves spreading out toward a sleek speedboat bobbing at the end of the dock.
Did Victoria arrive inthat?
