Free Lakeshore Chronicles [10] Candlelight Christmas by Susan Wiggs Page A

rosemary and sage and pats of butter under the turkey skin while intermittently consulting a video cooking lesson on an iPad.
    “Jamie Oliver?” she asked.
    “Taught me everything I know,” he said without looking away from the screen. “Love this guy.”
    “Have you always been interested in cooking?”
    “It’s a relatively new project. I took it up when I became a single dad. I knew I needed to learn how to make something besides quesadillas and microwave burritos. I never wanted to be the dad who raises his kid on takeout and junk food.”
    “That’s nice. I need a job.”
    “Peel the potatoes?”
    “I think I can handle that.”
    Working alongside him in the kitchen felt strangely...domestic. And freakishly pleasant. In general, she didn’t enjoy cooking, and lately she didn’t enjoy men, so the pleasantness of the moment startled her.
    “You didn’t tell me you were divorced,” he said.
    She thought he might have sounded slightly accusing, as if this was something she had a duty to share with him. But that was ridiculous. She’d only met him the one time, at the end of summer. It wasn’t as if she needed to share her life story with him.
    But now here she was, in his house—his family’s house—and he’d asked her a direct question. He was just being friendly, she told herself. He had no idea that it was her least favorite question. It was like being asked, “So, how’d you get that giant hideous scar?”
    “Yes,” she said simply, knowing she was now expected to elaborate. “I was married for five years.”
    He cut an onion into quarters using swift, confident strokes with a sharp knife; then he added the pieces to the roasting pan. “Just asking,” he said. “Didn’t mean to pry.”
    “Oh, you weren’t prying,” she told him hastily. It was comforting in a perverse way, knowing the two of them were both divorced. It was like meeting another shipwreck survivor who understood just what the other had endured.
    She remembered seeing Logan’s ex at the end of summer, and wondered where he was in the recovery process. She could still picture the look of longing in Logan’s eyes when he’d handed his son over to the ex. And why not? The mother of his child was blonde and beautiful, with a glowing smile. Yikes, Logan might even still be in love with her.
    “I wanted to make sure the coast was clear,” he said to Darcy.
    “The coast?”
    “For when I start hitting on you.”
    She swallowed hard. Maybe she was wrong about his ex. “You’re going to start hitting on me?”
    He plucked a pinch of salt from a small bowl. “Yeah,” he said. “I might.”
    Her chest tightened. She remembered the never-again vow she’d made after her marriage. “How will I know if you’re hitting on me?” she asked, her light teasing tone masking apprehension.
    He grinned. “You’ll be the first to know. Anyway, I’m glad you didn’t think I was prying. Prying comes later.”
    “I can hardly wait,” she said.
    He hoisted the turkey into the pan. “This,” he said, “is going to make you glad I’m single. It’s going to be the most delicious turkey you’ve ever tasted.”
    “How did you end up with kitchen duty?” she asked.
    “I volunteered. Later, everybody will pitch in.”
    “And all hell will break loose?”
    He grinned. “Pretty much.”
    “So, tell me about the O’Donnell family traditions. Anything unusual?”
    “Not unless you consider sibling squabbles, cranky kids and overeating unusual.”
    “Oh boy. That sounds extremely familiar. Are you sure we’re not related?” She and Logan had plenty in common. On the one hand, it was kind of cool, feeling so comfortable with him, so quickly. On the other hand, this likely meant a relationship between them would never work. She and Huntley had had everything in common, yet ultimately they’d fallen apart. “What do you squabble about?”
    “It’s mainly the kids who squabble these days. Although my old man’s not too