Page 87 of Winter’s Fire

Lucy took another comforting sip of her hot drink. A few hours ago, everything had seemed so straightforward—she had a new career all lined up and Logan was out of her life. She hadn’t even been home a day and all her family was upset with her about the former, and her idiot heart wouldn’t accept the latter.

“Now that your father’s finally asleep and the boys have made themselves scarce, I thought you and I could have a calm, sensible discussion about what you so very carefully avoided telling us.”

Her mother’s voice gently breaking into her thoughts gave her a start. “Don’t sneak up on me like that, Mum! Where are the boys? I haven’t heard them come in.”

“Oh no, young lady—I’m not falling for any diversionary tactics. And I wasn’t sneaking. Wherever the boys are, they’ll be fine, and if they come back before we finish our conversation, they know better than to interrupt us. So—why don’t you tell me exactly how deeply involved with Mr. Simmonds you are?”

Technically she wasn’t involved, because he wasn’t involved. He’d made it very clear he wasn’t involved, and didn’t want to be involved.

Lucy gave a resigned sigh. She knew that tone of her mother’s—there was no wriggling out of this one. “Would you like some hot chocolate?”

“You stay there—I’ll make it.”

Lucy watched her mother busy herself with warming some more milk. While she was waiting, Rachel moved another chair from the kitchen table to the other side of the range. Lucy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She’d been fifteen the last time she’d gone through a maternal interrogation session, and all of a sudden she felt like that headstrong teenager again.

Her mother remained silent until she sat down and took a drink. Then she looked squarely at Lucy. “So what gives? I know Sam knows something we don’t, but he’s not telling. This Logan—he wasn’t just your partner on the mission, was he?”

Why on earth she’d thought she could hide something so significant from her mother, she had no idea. Lucy shook her head, and gave a short, ironic laugh. “When I first saw him in the office, I thought he was really attractive, but there was something dark about him. And although he was okay to begin with, he became this rude, arrogant so-and-so—”

“But not so rude and arrogant that you didn’t develop feelings for him.” Her mother’s voice was gentle and understanding.

“He taught me what I needed to know for the mission, and…” Lucy gave a helpless shrug.

“You fell in love. Much like I did with my Jack. Don’t look so surprised. Just because your father was a decent human being by the time you came along doesn’t mean he was always like that, you know.” Her mouth curved into a gentle smile of reminiscence. “He had a reputation for being grumpy and surly, and he snarled at everyone who went near him.”

“You met at a Young Farmers dance, didn’t you?”

“We did. I lost a bet with my friend, and I had to go and poke the grizzly. I poked him enough to get through his defences, and by the end of the evening, I was in love.”

Lucy’s eyebrows reflected her reaction to hearing that part of the story for the first time. “What about Dad?”

“He was more than happy to walk me home after the dance, even though it was about three miles. We arrived at my front door, where he asked me if he could take me out the next evening, and then he kissed me.”

Lucy couldn’t help but chuckle at the mental image. “What a romantic! It sounds like the grizzly was turning into a teddy bear.”

“Oh, he was.” Rachel beamed. “He managed to hold out for three weeks before he asked me to marry him. I only found out when he gave his speech at the reception that by the time we reached the front gate that first night, he was ready to propose then.”

Lucy spluttered. “Why have you never told me this before, Mum? Do the boys know?”

“Of course not! And I’m only telling you on the understanding that we girls keep it to ourselves.”

“Why? Too soppy for the big, strong men?”

“Not at all, dear—I’m just looking forward to the time when all of them fall the way your father did. I don’t want them to have any advance warning that it could happen like that for them.”

Her mother’s expression reminded Lucy of a cream-sated feline. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Rachel sipped her hot chocolate, then sat back and crossed her legs at the ankles. “I think that’s enough of a distraction—tell me all about Mr. Logan Simmonds.”

Lucy’s stomach turned into a boulder. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“You’ve always had an expressive face, love, and right now, it’s telling me a very different story. I can’t make you spill the beans, but you might find you feel better if you get whatever it is off your chest.”

The knot of pain in Lucy’s heart doubled in size. Denial would be a hell of a lot easier if she didn’t say the words aloud, but a part of her wanted desperately to unload.

“I’ll tell you what, why don’t we go into the sitting room and make ourselves comfortable?”

Her mother’s gentle suggestion brought the sting of tears to Lucy’s eyes. She’d made the right decision about Logan—she was convinced she had—but if she told her mother about the man who gave her sleepless nights for all the wrong reasons, she could end up giving in to the unspoken hopes that wouldn’t leave her in peace.