Page 9 of Under the Mistletoe
One look at Devin practically clinging to the door and it was obvious he was already messing this up. He needed to fix this. After all, none of this was her fault. Not his old feelings, not the fact his returned manuscript wasn’t in his email, not even the fact that the snow was picking up and no doubt the road would start getting bad before too long.
It didn’t matter—he’d still get back home tonight, and he’d do so without letting his old feelings for Devin mess with his mind, even if he had to spend the day with her. But Luke was right, this was the perfect time to apologize. Almost a year overdue, actually. And that had been the plan when he’d knocked on her window. But when she’d climbed out of her car, words had left him. She had the same long, light-auburn hair, the same big blue eyes, the same distracting freckles. But if everything was the same, then how was it possible that she was even more beautiful than the last time he’d seen her?
So instead of apologizing, he’d looked away, shaken off the image, determined to drop her off where she needed to go and drive away. Only he’d opened the door to find her making friends with Cal. Was she trying to kill him?
And the hint of sadness in her face when she’d talked about her parents choosing work today had him ready to fight someone. But she wasn’t his to protect. She wasn’t his, period.
He refused to resurrect any of those old feelings. And maybe if he said that enough times, he’d actually believe it. Because he didn’t have time for this—he had a book to deal with.
Which was why when she’d asked about Cal’s name, he’d not so gracefully dodged the question.
Maybe he should have just told her, but Calavar was supposed to make an appearance in his next book, and nobody outside his family, his agent, and the publishing team knew Logan Kingsley wasTheNew York Timesbestselling author Victor Holt.
When he had originally published the first book of the Stone of Anwar series under the pen name Victor Holt, he hadn’t thought much about it. He just hadn’t wanted to be embarrassed if it crashed and burned. Only it hadn’t. The first one had taken a while to get traction, but the second had been a bestseller the week of release. They were now calling book three “the most anticipated book of the year.” And as popularity grew, so did the mystery of Victor Holt.
His agent and editor loved the way social media ran with his secret identity so much that when they extended the one-book contract to four books, it was stipulated that he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone.
Maybe she wouldn’t have put it together after all. Maybe she hadn’t even heard of Victor Holt. But dodging questions had become his MO.
And now she’d announced she’d be spending a day at his parents’ house, which meant the apology could no longer wait. At least for the mistletoe incident. He wound down his parents’ long drive. It really did make a winter wonderland with tall pine trees lining the path. The heavy snow clung to the branches and stuck to the west side of the trunks.
“I’m sorry for what I said last year at the party.” The words tumbled out before he could even consider the best approach. “It was rude and not…”True. Honest.“Kind. I was just mad about…”You showing up as my brother’s date.“Something. That was my fault. Not yours. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“Of course.” Her voice was soft as she stared straight ahead, while her hands fidgeted in her lap. “Thanks for picking me up.”
“No problem.” Okay, that might have been the worst apology ever, but saying any more would invite questions he couldn’t answer.
He pulled to a stop behind a line of cars and eyed his parents’ retirement house, as they liked to call it. Logan was pretty sure that buying the two-story farmhouse had been more about the fact that all six—soon to be seven—of the grandkids lived in Heritage and less about getting away from Chicago. Although, with the yellow siding and a wraparound porch, it was practically straight out of one of his mom’s silly Hallmark movies, so maybe it was a little about retirement.
Devin glanced across the car at him. “Is it weird not going to your house in Chicago?”
He hadn’t expected it would be, but yeah, it was. “Weirder thinking that some strangers are probably having Thanksgiving dinner in the very room where I spent most of the past twenty-six Thanksgivings. At least this place won’t have stains on the walls where Liam used to try and shoot peas at me during dinner.”
She glanced down at her gray slacks sticking out from the bottom of her coat, then eyed his jeans and flannel.
“Am I too dressed up?” A definite waver to her voice.
“You’re fine. Many of them are probably dressed up. My family is a come-as-you-are family.” He offered her a grin. “And this guy doesn’t dress up.”
He opened the door and got out, then moved to the back to set Cal free before walking toward the porch. Cal ran off to mark a few bushes but still got to the door before Logan and Devin.
The front door flung open, revealing Hannah with Libby’s youngest, Sophie, on her hip. The little girl had a head of blonde curls that framed her smiling face, and wore a sweater with a bright turkey on it.
“Mom and Dad are still in the kitchen, and Mom still doesn’t know.” Hannah stepped back from the door as Cal rushed inside.
Sophie’s bright gray eyes lit up as her pudgy little toddler hands reached out. “Lo-Lo.”
Logan scooped her up from Hannah’s arms as he held the door and then followed Devin inside.
The entryway was warm and decorated with garland winding up the banister of the staircase in front of him. When his parents bought the place nine months ago, they had ripped out the dark carpets and put in vinyl plank. The ash wood appearance made the place look more open, but this was the first time he’d seen it with the freshly painted light gray walls and white baseboards. It looked good. Inviting. And with the scent of stuffing and turkey filling the place, dinner wouldn’t be too far off.
Sophie snuggled against his shoulder for a moment, then started bouncing. “Up-up.”
He tossed her up and caught her a few times just as Libby came around the corner with her blond hair tied up in a messy bun. Her waddle emphasized her pregnant belly that was two months from its due date. “Ah, the favorite uncle has arrived.”
“Hey now.” Luke hung a kid’s backpack by the door. Then wrapped Logan in a quick hug. “But it is true. I’m too tired from chasing my own kids around to be the fun uncle. And Liam isn’t around enough. Speaking of your other half, have you heard from him?”
“In Switzerland giving paragliding tours.” Disappointment seemed to shadow everyone’s faces, including Devin’s. Of course it did—Liam was the life of the party. Logan was just…Logan.
