by Tess Oliver
I plodded to him and pressed my face against his naked chest. His arms went around me, and as I caught my breath and worked on getting up the courage to tell him the bad news, a whiff of familiar perfume drifted across my nose. And it wasn’t my perfume. It was Chrissy’s. I stepped back and peered up at him.
“Summer,” he said anxiously, but I didn’t stay to listen.
I marched down the hallway and smacked open the bedroom door. The sheets and blankets were strewn across the bed, and my best friend, the girl that I’d always shared all my biggest secrets with, the girl who I’d sat up with more than once after a guy had dumped her, the girl who I’d thought of as a sister, was just buttoning up her blouse. She looked as pale as the messed up sheets. She opened her mouth to either speak or throw up, but it was hard to tell which would happen first.
“I’m sorry, Summer,” she sobbed.
“Just get out, Chrissy. Get out and don’t ever try to talk to me again.”
She broke into a wild, shoulder shuddering sob as she slid past me. Logan stood like a shocked, dumbfounded fool in the center of the room.
“Wait!” I called. “Take this asshole with you. I don’t want to see him either.”
Chrissy hesitated and almost seemed excited at the notion that I was gifting her Logan.
“Just go, Chrissy,” Logan snarled. “I’m not leaving.”
Chrissy wisely hurried out.
I grabbed up my purse. “Well, if you’re not leaving then I am.”
His big hand smacked against the front door as I went to open it.
“Can’t we at least talk about this, Summer?” He laughed, and the sound of it made me want to turn around and punch him in the stomach. “I mean, after all, we’re going to be working together. We need to get this out in the open.”
Now it was my turn to laugh, and suddenly, telling him was going to be far more pleasurable than I’d first imagined. “You won’t have to worry about working with me,” I said.
His face was close to mine. Chrissy’s lingering perfume made me sick to my stomach. He reached toward my arm, but I pulled it away. “Now, babe, don’t make any crazy decisions based on this. We were just bored and you know…”
“No, I don’t know, but let me call up your best friend, Dylan, and see if he wants to go a few rounds. You know— just to kill time.”
He flinched at my words.
“Doesn’t sound too good from that end, does it?” I was keeping my tears in check now. Rage seethed through me at a faster pace than the complete and utter pain of betrayal. The two people who I loved the most were suddenly complete strangers. “While you were fucking my best friend—” Again, he flinched, and it felt good to see it. “I had a meeting with Mr. Tately, another prime example of human disappointment.”
Logan backed up and stared down at me with suspicion. “Why the hell were you meeting with him on your own?”
“He called and told me to meet him alone. I guess having you guys might have put a crimp in his making a move on me.”
Having been my boyfriend for several years, his proper response should have been rage. Instead he looked worried. “Shit, Summer, did you screw this up for us?”
“That’s right. I didn’t spread my legs for the bastard, so you can stop dreaming about groupies ripping their shirts off for you to autograph their boobs, cuz it ain’t happening. And before you get too pissed at me, the other part of the meeting was to mention that they were only interested in signing me. You guys were out before I even clenched my thighs shut.”
Logan scrubbed his hair back. The muscles in his shoulders were bunched tight, and his face was red. He walked over to the kitchen counter and swept his hand through the mosaic of dirty dishes waiting to be washed. Only one lone mug remained on the counter. Glass sprayed all over the tile floor. A chunk skittered across the room and bounded off my knee. He twisted back to look at me. “I don’t believe you. You just had your feelings hurt, so you’re making this up to bite back.”
“You tell yourself that if it makes you feel better. But when he told me I had to sing with a different band, I told him no way. So, while I was being loyal to you, you were busy getting naked with Chrissy. I’d say you definitely earned your dose of black karma today.”
Without warning, he picked up the mug and hurled it across the room. The remnants of my morning coffee sprayed across the wall, and before I could tell myself to duck, the heavy ceramic mug struck my cheek. I stumbled back and my hand flew to my face.
Logan’s face mirrored my own shock. We’d had some bad fights before, but he’d never pulled anything like this. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I hadn’t meant to—”
I put up my hand to stop the apology. Even if he hadn’t meant to hit me with the mug, he’d already done something unforgivable. A bruise on my cheek was nothing compared to the rip in my heart. I ran to the bedroom and slammed the door shut. The sheets were tangled, and they might as well have been twisted around my throat like a noose. I swept them all to the floor and then pulled out the extra blanket from the closet. I covered the mattress and curled up in inside it like a cocoon.
It was still the late afternoon, but so much had happened it felt as if the day had already far exceeded the normal twenty-four hours. My head ached and my cheek felt swollen and tender. I tried to cry but realized that my tear well had gone dry, or maybe, deep down, I just didn’t care enough about any of it. Losing both Logan and the recording contract should have left me numb with despair, but I was feeling more pissed than heartbroken.
There was a tentative knock on the door. “I brought you a bag of ice for your face,” Logan’s deep voice was edged with a good dose of regret. He opened the door and held up the ice and my phone. “It was ringing.”
He laid the phone down on the nightstand. His gaze dropped in embarrassment as he stepped over the wad of sheets on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. He winced along with me as he placed the bag on my cheek. I took hold of it.
“Shit, babe, I didn’t mean to do that. I swear.”
“Please, Logan, don’t call me babe. Even if you didn’t mean to hit me with the mug, it doesn’t matter. The damage was done when you crawled into our bed with Chrissy.”
He stared down at the hands in his lap. I stared at the tattoo on his arm. My name curled around a picture of the sun.
“I guess it’s a good thing my name also stands for the best season of the year. Now you won’t have to spend money to cover it up.”
He looked at me. When he was sad he tended to look more like a little boy than a man. “You can’t be serious about this being over. We’ve been together a long time. What about the band?”
The ice was freezing my skin. I dropped it onto the nightstand next to the phone, which kept buzzing with what I was certain were half-crazed texts from my mom. “There was a time when I was nuts about you, Logan. I could barely breathe when you stepped into a room or when you looked at me over a crowd of people. But that’s gone. I think it’s been gone for awhile. I need something different, and your stupid decision today just helped solidify that need. I think for the band’s sake, I wanted to keep this together. But I’m done with you.”
He sat in silence for a long moment and then got up and walked out.
The phone rang again. “What?” I asked angrily.
“Uh, excuse me, is this Ms. Donovan?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I thought you were—” I shook my head to my invisible audience. “Anyhow, yes this is Summer Donovan.”
“Hello, this is Mr. Turner, your grandfather’s lawyer. We spoke a few weeks ago.”
“Yes, of course. What can I do for you?”
“Well, Ms. Donovan, I hate to be pushy, but you should probably make a decision about your grandfather’s restaurant soon. I understand the flourishing business he built is beginning to deteriorate in the absence of an owner. There is a great deal of interest from people who would like to purchase the place. Your grandfather’s house should go on the market
as well.”
I sat up. “Yes, of course. I would hate for his legacy to go under. It meant so much to him.” My feet brushed the sheets on the floor and I pulled my toes up onto the mattress in disgust. “Mr. Turner, you mentioned that the house belonged to me as well.”
“That’s right. Together, the two properties should set you up nicely.” He chuckled. “Of course, the money doesn’t stretch quite as far out there in California, but it will definitely help.”
“Mr. Turner, I don’t want to put either place on the market.”
I could sense his puzzlement through the phone.
“I’m going to move to Montana. I want to run the restaurant myself. Grandpa would have wanted it to stay in the family, and I have nothing to keep me here in California.”
He was silent for a few seconds.
“Mr. Turner, are you still there?”
“Yes, yes I am. Ms. Donovan, it’s none of my business, of course, but have you ever run a restaurant before?”
“Nope, but I’m a very fast learner.”
“Well then, if you’re certain.”
“I couldn’t be more certain.”
chapter 6
Gage
The snow on the ground had been light, like powdered sugar on a donut, when we’d started the work day. But the white flakes had been trampled into mud by mid morning, leaving the slope to the landing more slippery than usual. The sun had tried to warm the air, but had failed miserably in its attempt. Winter was edging its bitter head around the corner, and there would be no way to escape it. Now, with the sun getting lower, a glacial wind gusted between the mountain peaks.
After a long week of no further situations like the ones on the day with Mattson, it seemed we were all letting our guards down, and visions of a long weekend off floated through our beer thirsty heads. My workmate and friend, Jack¸ had only just returned to the job after being off for emergency paternity leave. His baby girl had been born six weeks early. There had been several complications, so the baby had had to stay in the hospital. His mind had, of course, been preoccupied with her all day. But he’d needed to return to work. With his wife off on an extended maternity leave, they needed the logging money more than ever.
Jack was staring at his phone as he trudged down the slope from the supply truck where he’d gone to refill his water bottle.
“Any word from Pamela?” I asked.
His red beard twitched as he shook his head. “Don’t know. The reception up here is shit.”
I pulled my phone out. “I guess I’m standing in the same cave as you.” The carriage on the skyline cable had begun its slow decent down the slope. “At least we’ve only got two more chokers to set. You’ll be back home in a few hours.”
“Yeah,” he said weakly, assuring me that my words had done little to help. Jack had only been married the year before, to a girl that he’d only known for a few months prior. But it had been destined, as he’d put it. A year ago, there was no way I would have thought that a guy who could drink everyone under the table, and often did, and who never called anyone back after the first date, would have his whole world taken up by a girl. Two girls now. After dating half the girls in Nevada, my brother, Luke, had found that same connection with his girlfriend, Angel. I could never see that same unbreakable commitment anywhere in my future. I’d dated girls for longer than the first date, although not much longer, but I’d never come close to finding that person who could just reach in and grab my heart for good.
It was obvious Jack’s mind was still back home. “Can’t believe how that little three pound bundle has changed my whole view of the world, you know?”
“I’ll bet. And did you say three pounds?”
He stuck out his hand and cupped his palm. “Fits right there. Cutest little thing on the planet.”
I shook my head. “Never thought I’d see the day when Jack Young’s heart had been stolen by a girl, and a three pound one at that. I’m real happy for you, bro. I mean that.”
He swiped off his beanie and rubbed his hair. It stood up in red spikes all over his head. “Two girls have my heart, and just wait, Barringer, it’ll happen to you too. Just like it happened to your baby brother. Shit, Pamela couldn’t believe it when I told her that story about Luke and Angel. Talk about destiny. Their story sure went viral fast too. It was like they’d been connected from birth, promised to each other, you know?”
“Yeah, sort of seems that way. And, man is he fucking nuts about her.” I smiled at him. “Almost as sappy and dumbstruck as you.”
He lifted his hands in surrender. “Guilty as charged.” His expression darkened. “It sure was terrible to hear about Dex. That dude was a lot of fun. I still remember when he came up here to stay with you. Ugly shit, man, ugly shit. But at least Luke made it out alive.”
The carriage had stopped and we went to work setting the choker. “Yeah, we all miss Dex. That’s for damn sure. Luke took it real hard, but I know having Angel near really helps him deal with it.”
“Your girl is out there, Barringer. Just you wait. One day she’s going to walk into your life, and she’ll throw you off balance. That super cool demeanor, that hard as steel Barringer attitude you’re notorious for, will be obliterated, and you won’t know which fucking end is up.”
I smiled. “Yeah, we’ll see.”
I signaled the yarder operator to come back easy on the haulback. The corridor for the last logs was narrow, and there was little place to be in the clear. I positioned myself on the log, and the droplines swung from the carriage overhead. I hooked the tail of the choker to the dropline. We moved clear of the log, and I gave the signal.
As we watched the slow ascent of the logs up the hillside, Jack pulled his phone out and glanced at it. He pointed at it and mouthed the words missed call to me. He turned and headed up the hillside, apparently in search of phone reception. He was moving faster than the mainline, and just as he came parallel with the carriage, a sudden wind gust flung the logs around. I yelled through my radio and caught his attention as the butt of a log swung around toward his head. He dove out of the way, landing hard in a pile of jackstrawed fallen trees and branches. I raced over to him. I could hear his painful moans through the din of the machinery above, and I was glad to hear them. It meant he was conscious.
“Jack,” I pulled some of the debris out of the way. He was reaching down to his leg, which was twisted in an unnatural way. “Did it hit you?”
“No,” he pushed the word out with all his strength. “My fucking leg’s busted.”
The rigging slinger and several men with a stretcher were making their way down the slope. I carefully pulled away the piled up debris, mostly dead branches that had been pushed down by weather. His foot and knee were going in slightly different directions. “Looks like you’re right. At least there doesn’t seem to be any bone jutting through.”
The crew reached us along with the man trained in first aid and triage.
I patted his shoulder. “Looks like you’ll be home with your baby girl after all.” It was all I could come up with, and it seemed to cheer him some. “Hell of a way to do it, though.”
“I’ll say.” The man was wedged in a pile of logs with a broken leg, but we spoke lightly. A swinging tree was the quickest way to off yourself on an operation, and Jack had missed getting killed by mere inches. Luck had been on his side.
chapter 7
Gage
It was Friday night. The parking lot of the Raven’s Nest should have been packed, but it was half-empty, or half-full as someone with more optimism would say. The staff had been reduced to two short order cooks, two waitresses and a part-time manager, who had no real interest in running the place. Maxwell, the chef who’d really amped up the food quality when Russell hired him, had left because his hours and pay had been cut.
Rita smiled up at me from behind the bar. She’d been a single mom for years and was working hard to put her only son through college. With the dramatic decrease in tips, she’d had to
find another part-time job. But she always managed to be in a bright mood.
Her dark eyes sparkled like the rhinestone clips she’d tucked into her mass of hair. “You look like you’ve had a rough week playing lumberjack. And yet—” She placed a mug of beer in front of me. “—you are still the finest thing to walk through those doors in the past few weeks.”
“Shit, if that’s playing then I never want to work.” I swallowed down some beer. “I talked to Russell’s lawyer and let him know that the place was going downhill fast and that I was a highly motivated buyer.”
Her brow creased, and she seemed puzzled at first. “You must have talked to him awhile ago.”
I drank again and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Two weeks ago, Tuesday, before I started this last job. Why?”
She twisted her bottom lip as if she had news to break that she wasn’t anxious to tell. “The new owner is in the back office going over the books.”
“What? The new owner? Did someone buy it out from under me? Goddammit, I told the guy to call me first.”
“No one bought it. It’s Russell’s granddaughter. We got word last Friday that she was keeping the place. She moved up here Monday and has been in the office all week sorting things out.” She leaned over the counter and lowered her voice. “She seems really smart, but I don’t think she knows a damn thing about the business or Montana. She’s one of those sugary meringues from California. Hollywood, I think. Arrived in a thin cotton sweatshirt on the first day, and we had to turn up the heat in the office because she just about froze her California ass off.”
I pointed to the bottle of whiskey on the shelf behind the bar. “Better give me that bottle and a glass. Looks like I’ve just lost my chance at this place.”
Rita reached back for the bottle and brought up a shot glass as well. “I wouldn’t get too cozy with the whiskey yet. I think one good blizzard might send her running for the sunny coast, and then she’ll be itching to get rid of the place.” She looked toward the office. “But she’s a real nice girl, I’ll give her that. Smart and funny like her grandfather. Speaks her mind like him too.”
