by Louise Bay
“Where’s your place in London?” Logan leaned back and his legs crept toward me as he stretched out.
“Hill Street, Mayfair.”
Logan looked confused and I couldn’t tell if he was trying to remember where Hill Street was or if he was surprised that a country bumpkin like me stayed in town. I might feel more comfortable at home at Woolton, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t handle London.
“Logan’s used to life in the city. I don’t want him to get bored out here. It’s enough that he’s made it possible for me to come home. He shouldn’t have to spend all his time with me. You’d be doing me a tremendous favor by getting him out and about, if you wouldn’t mind?”
“Now, Granny, I fear you’re getting a little mischievous. Darcy doesn’t want to have to babysit me.”
He had a charming way of getting himself out of a tricky situation, which I rather admired. He made it sound like it would be a burden for me, though we both knew he didn’t want to go.
“Quiz night’s on Thursdays—there’s usually lots of villagers there. It would be a great place to meet more people. And Mrs. Steele, you might consider joining the local chapter of the Women’s Institute. They’re a fixture of Woolton Village and hold their meetings at Woolton Hall from time to time.”
“I’ve never thought of myself as a W.I. kind of woman, but I’m keen to get to know the village.”
“And I hope you don’t mind me mentioning it, but Mrs. Brookely, who lived here before you, opened her gardens the first Saturday each month to the village. And I know the villagers are very fond of Mr. Fawsley’s work, so you might want to consider doing something similar.”
Mrs. Steele threw up her hands. “Of course. We must do that. I had no idea, did you, Logan?”
Logan grinned as he shook his head, his chest expanding as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on me so that every time I glanced at him our gaze met. “We can make that happen.”
“I’m so pleased you mentioned it, my dear. I know how difficult it can be to move into a new place and I want to make sure we do our part as members of the community, isn’t that right, Logan?”
“Absolutely,” said Logan.
“But I should leave you in peace,” I said. “I’ll let you know about the next W.I. meeting, Mrs. Steele.”
“Thank you, and Logan, will you be able to make the quiz meeting this Thursday?” she asked.
Logan frowned. Did he think an evening with me so burdensome? Not that I had any desire to babysit him, as he put it.
“I’ll be in London,” I replied so he didn’t assume there’d be any enforced time together. “But of course, do go on your own. People are very friendly.” I was having dinner with my brother, who would be on a layover from New York to Beijing.
“Well, that is disappointing,” Mrs. Steele said. “But another time. I think you two have so much in common. Both young, good-looking people devoted to their family. You should get to know each other.”
Mrs. Steele might be elderly, but that didn’t stop her playing at being a matchmaker.
“Grandmother,” Logan growled in warning. “I’m sure Darcy can arrange her social life without your help. And I know I can.”
Mrs. Steele shrugged and took a sip of her tea as if she hadn’t quite heard her grandson’s admonishment. And I tried to hide my blush at Logan making it clear, so charmingly, that he wasn’t interested in spending any time with me. Not that I was with him. But still.
I stood and thanked Mrs. Steele for her hospitality.
“I’ll see you out,” Logan said, grasping the sides of his chair. We walked out, Logan following me.
“It was good to see you again,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. I almost jumped as his large hand briefly touched my lower back just as we reached the front door.
I glanced up at him and I blinked, trying to formulate an appropriate response which I knew should have been easier, but my mind was blank. I nodded, unable to come up with anything.
He tilted his head. “No mud today. But still the same smile.”
“No mud,” I said pressing my mouth into a self-conscious straight line. “Have a good weekend.”
As I got to the gate on the other side of the drive, I glanced back to find Logan watching me. What was he thinking?
If I hadn’t seen him here today, I wouldn’t have imagined him as the sort of man who came home to spend weekends with his grandmother playing gin rummy. From what I’d read about him, I would have thought he was more the type who had a different date every night, went to all the top bars and restaurant openings in London, and had some office in a skyscraper where he barked orders at people and made a ton of money while destroying people’s businesses.
Which Logan Steele was the real man underneath the custom suit and the charming smile?
Seven
Darcy
As soon as I saw Ryder, I squealed. I just couldn’t help myself. It was always good to see him, but since Grandfather had died, I needed our time together even more. I scurried toward him. “It’s so good to see you, even if only for dinner,” I said as I held his face in my hands.
He kissed me on the cheek, then extracted himself and indicated the chair opposite him. We always ended up coming to this place, which was a relaxed local Italian restaurant around the corner from the Hill Street house. How it survived amongst all the Michelin-starred restaurants in this area, I had no idea, but I was pleased it did. The staff were friendly and the food was always incredible. “I saw you on FaceTime two days ago when you were gossiping with my wife. It’s hardly like we are strangers.”
“First, I can’t squeeze your cute little cheeks on FaceTime.” I reached across the table to grab another handful, but he backed out of reach. “Second, we weren’t gossiping, we were talking about the summer party. It’s important.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Exactly right.”
“So what’s going on in your world?” he asked. “Any village scandal I should know about?”
“We have some new villagers. Well, sort of new. A Mrs. Steele. She used to live in the village when she was young, apparently. She knew Grandfather and Granny. I guess she wasn’t Mrs. Steele back then. She married an earl and moved away …” I paused. Had she told me why she’d left the village? She’d come back after she was married, but why had she left again? “Anyway, she’s back. And her grandson bought the place and he comes down on weekends.”
“Do you recognize her from before?”
I shook my head as I patted the napkin on my lap. “No, she moved away before we were born. Thirty years ago.”
Ryder was trying to act interested, but I could tell he couldn’t care less. “Mrs. Brookely died, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes. Anyway, they’ve agreed to keep the gardens open to villagers on first Saturdays, so that’s a good start.”
“They sound very accommodating. I’m not sure I’d like strangers wandering about in my house.”
The helicopter wasn’t so accommodating, but I wasn’t about to mention that in case it gave Ryder ideas. “People won’t be wandering about in the house. It’s just the gardens. And they’re so beautiful—don’t you remember?”
Ryder shook his head. I’d only ever left Woolton for university, but Ryder hadn’t lived there since. Maybe that was why he didn’t have the pull toward the village and the way of life, or even toward Woolton Hall, that I did.
“Do you remember how we used to play in the Badsley woods there?”
“Sure. We were so little. I can’t imagine letting my kids wander off on their own before their twenty-first birthdays. You were barely out of nappies.”
Good memories from that time were few and far between and the ones we had were made together on days in Badsley’s woods or the grounds of Woolton. And eventually the good blotted out the bad.
“I know. I guess Grandfather and Granny felt we were safe. And they were right.”
“Safe once she’d finally left
us,” he mumbled, referring to our mother. I learned later that it was that summer when my grandfather put his foot down and told his daughter that her children needed a full-time parent, and that although she was welcome to visit us, we would live at Woolton Hall from then on. Her visits were infrequent and grew more so over time.
At the beginning of that summer, Ryder was the only one I spoke to. He’d been my interpreter. My protector. The only one I trusted. But that first summer at Woolton opened me up, cloaked me in warmth and consistency and eventually over dinner, I began to help Ryder tell our grandparents the stories of our daily adventures. The four-leaf clovers we’d found, the dens we’d built, the trees we’d climbed. Woolton had helped me find my voice that summer.
“I’m glad she left us,” I said.
Ryder sighed. “I just don’t get it. Not then, but especially not now that we’ve got Gwendoline and Toby.”
“I know.” I reached across and squeezed his hand, my heart tugging at his reference to my niece and nephew. Ryder was a workaholic control freak, but he worshipped his children and his wife, and I knew would stand in front of a bus for them. And for me. To him, that’s what family did. That’s what our grandparents did for us when they kept us at Woolton Hall.
He glanced over my shoulder. “Hey,” he mouthed, greeting someone across the room. The reason I liked this restaurant was because Ryder didn’t run into business associates. “I’ll just be a second.” He stood and placed his napkin on the chair.
“I’ve not seen you in forever,” he said, greeting one of the endless number of people Ryder knew.
“Not since that conference in Vegas,” a familiar voice said, and I snapped my head around as realization dawned. Logan grinned back at me. “I’ve seen a lot more of your sister. It’s all starting to fit into place now. Hi, Darcy.” Logan bent and kissed me on the cheek.
“You two know each other?” Ryder asked, sinking back into his chair.
“My grandmother and I just moved into Woolton Village. I’d not realized that Woolton Hall was your family’s place.”
“You bought Badsley House? What a small fucking world, we were just talking about you,” Ryder said.
“No, we weren’t.” I said, shooting Ryder a look.
Ryder pulled up a chair from the empty table next to us. “Well, join us, sit down.”
Wait, what? I didn’t want to make polite conversation with a near-perfect stranger. Especially one I hadn’t figured out yet.
“That would be great,” Logan said. “My meeting just got canceled, so I was about to enjoy the steak alone.”
“Darcy was just getting me caught up on the Woolton gossip.”
“She seems to know everything about what goes on,” Logan said. “I’m learning the ropes. Pub quiz on Thursdays. Open gardens on the first Saturday of the month, right?” He grinned at me.
I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me. But why would he understand what a special place it was? “The village is a lovely place to live and the people are wonderful and kind. We care about each other.”
“So far so good.” He held my gaze as if trying to see beyond my words and into my mind. “The farm shop at the end of the village is fantastic. I took my grandmother there on Sunday.”
“That was all Darcy,” Ryder said.
“It was your idea?” Logan asked.
“Not just her idea. She did the business plan, got the bank loan, planning permission, sourced all the suppliers. Picked a team to run it. My sister is a force of nature.” If I didn’t know better, I would have said my brother was proud of me. “I told her I’d fund it, but she insisted on doing it herself.”
“That’s very impressive,” Logan said.
“I know it’s small fry compared to your billion-dollar deals, but it’s not just about a farm shop,” I said. “It’s about sustaining local producers and supporting village life. It was a passion project.”
“Starting a business, big or small, takes a lot of hard work and courage. And I find approaching something with passion always leads to better results.”
It wasn’t the reaction I expected. I thought his approach to business would be cold hard facts and numbers, given the article I’d read. I couldn’t help but wonder what he approached with passion. “I don’t know how to approach things in any other way but with my heart.”
Ryder’s phone buzzed and he excused himself from the table.
“So here we are again,” Logan said his eyes twinkling, his jaw no less sharp.
“I’m not sure we’ve been here before,” I replied.
“You and me. We keep running into each other.”
“It’s a small world, I guess.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. So what’s next for you now the farm shop is up and running? Any more passion projects?”
“I’m sure I’ll find something. But I have plenty to keep me busy in the meantime.” Logan stretched out his long legs under the table brushing against my thigh. But he didn’t shift. Or apologize, he just kept his gaze steady and focused directly on me. Was he waiting for me to react to his touch, to elaborate on what I’d been saying? He seemed so comfortable with the silence.
My heart tripped in my chest and I stuttered. “There’s always so much to do. There’s the full-time staff, the stables and then a regular cycle of things that go wrong at the house—it’s never-ending.”
The corners of his mouth twitched and his lips spread into a slow, wide smile as if he’d discovered a secret. “I’m sure. But you make time for Ryder.”
“He’s important. My family. Of course I make time for him. But it’s fine. I got caught up on a lot of paperwork this past weekend so I could steal some free time now.”
“And you visited my grandmother. That was very thoughtful.”
I blushed. Not at his compliment, but knowing how close I’d been to not going. “The village is my passion project.”
“Well, she really appreciated it. I did too.”
“I’m surprised you have the time to spend in Woolton.”
“Like you said, she’s my family, and that’s what you do.”
I tried to bite back a smile. Maybe Aurora had been right and the person who’d written the article about Logan had some kind of personal vendetta. I prided myself on being an excellent judge of character, but there were so many conflicting sides to Logan, it was difficult to see who he was at his core.
I couldn’t decide what to make of him. The guy was clearly a player. Too good-looking, with his perfect hair, sparkling blue eyes and hard body. I was sure he got his own way personally and professionally because of the subtle flirting. His confidence, the article in the newspaper. It all painted one picture. But then his relationship with his grandmother—the way he’d bought her childhood home for her. And the way he talked about approaching business with a passion? That was something entirely different. It was as if he’d broken my people compass and I couldn’t find north anymore.
“Tell me more about the shop,” he said, and when I glanced back up, I found him looking at me. He was asking me about something I was certain he had no interest in. Was he being polite or condescending?
“Nothing much to tell. I do what I can to preserve village life. It helps local suppliers, but it’s good for the village because it draws people in from the surrounding villages and they spend money in the pub and at the post office.”
“And you went to university, right?”
“Kings, London,” I replied.
He nodded. “Smart girl. But you didn’t want to go somewhere more rural? I had you pegged for someone who might go to a Scottish university.”
“Are you interviewing me for a job I haven’t applied for?” I asked. Where were all his questions coming from?
He chuckled. “You’re funny,” he said. “I don’t normally look for funny in a woman.” He glanced at my mouth and I found myself taking in his perfectly shaped cupid’s bow.
“What do you mean you don’t look for funny?”
He fro
wned and shifted in his seat and for the first time he seemed like he wasn’t in complete control. “I’m just trying to…Never mind. I’m just trying to get to know you, that’s all.” Was I as confusing to him as he was to me? “It’s interesting that you’re so passionate about Woolton.”
“It’s where I grew up, so of course I’m passionate about it.”
“But that doesn’t always follow, does it? Lots of people move away from where they grew up—Ryder’s based in New York.”
“Why would I move away when I’m happy? It’s a beautiful place—peaceful and calm. I enjoy my life there.”
“You never get bored?”
Irritation prickled at my neck. I couldn’t tell if it was from the fact that he assumed that being in Woolton was boring. But also because the answer wasn’t a flat-out no. I’d never told anyone, but my reasons for getting the farm shop up and running was for all the reasons I said it was, and one more. I’d wanted the challenge. Since university, I’d been slowly taking over running Woolton Estate, but I’d still expected my grandfather’s death to bring more issues. But those had been emotional more than anything else. I’d needed something more. “Do you ever get bored doing what you do?”
His gaze flitted behind me, then back. He grinned. “What, flying all over the world, meeting new people, doing deals, running a multi-billion-pound company?”
“Yeah. Doing the same thing every day, whatever it is, can be boring.” I never understood the appeal of being behind a desk or chained to a telephone all day. I couldn’t think of anything duller.
“Of course, I don’t get bored,” he said, his words a little more clipped than usual. He ran his hand through his hair. “Jeez. You have a spiky side.”
I let out a genuine laugh. I couldn’t doubt that he was saying exactly what was on his mind. “Just trying to figure you out. Maybe I’m pushing your buttons a little, seeing how deep the charm goes. I can’t quite decide about you.”
His mouth curved into a grin and he shook his head. It was as if we’d both revealed a different side to ourselves. He thought I had a spiky side. I didn’t know what to make of him. It was as if we’d been circling each other, trying to work the other out and finally we’d put our cards on the table.
