Chapter Two

"God...damn it!"

Logan kicked his foot out in front of himself in an attempt to rid his black Prada oxfords of the snow that had slipped down the sides and was starting to settle under the arch of his foot. He glared down at the pile of snow that he'd stepped in on the side of the road, wanting nothing more than to kick it to oblivion. Though, he knew that doing so would only serve to get more snow trapped around his already freezing cold feet.

They were a brand new pair of oxfords too. So new that he hadn't even had time to treat the leather, making him acutely aware of the fact that they would be completely ruined by the time this night was over. In fact, they were probably already completely ruined.

He pulled himself up the slight incline to the flat paved road, hoping that the at least partially plowed and salted street would be more comfortable to stand on than the uneven snow and slush covered grass. He slipped and slid the entire way, almost falling into the frigid piles of precipitation all around him a handful of times.

His only solace was the unmistakable sight of flashing red and blue lights waiting for him as he approached the street and the tow truck was parked behind the squad car. The two vehicles had arrived in tandem with each other.

"Well, howdy there!" a cheerful voice rang out followed by the sound of a slamming car door.

Logan looked over at the police car, seeing a man of small stature climbing out and walking over to him with an oblivious smile on his face. He had a head of short dark hair covered by a tan police hat. A brown leather jacket was wrapped around his upper body and a pair of woolen mittens were covering his hands. The man had some nerve being so cheerful in these circumstances, and Logan couldn't help but feel slightly put off at the idea of a police officer wearing woolen mittens.

"Looks like you've had a little bit of trouble!" the cheerful voice sounded again.

The diminutive man stood on the side of the road with his fists on his hips in a strange Peter Pan like stance. He was looking down at his wrecked car with a look of almost amused astonishment, and Logan had to do everything he could not to strangle him. Being charged with assaulting a police officer would be the cherry on top of a wonderful evening.

"Yeah…" he practically growled. "How 'bout that."

"Well not to worry!" said the officer. "Gypsy will get you out of there."

"Oh yes. I live to pull cars out of ditches on Saturday nights."

The voice coming from behind the officer startled him. He hadn't even seen another person there, and the person in question wasn't exactly what Logan had been expecting. He'd been expecting a big bearded man, probably with a beer belly and enough upper arm strength to squash him between his hands like a bug. The somewhat petite brown haired woman speaking in an accent that he wasn't quite able to put his finger on was the exact opposite of what he'd imagined.

"You're going to tow my car?"

The question was not appreciated. Or at least the tone of the question was not appreciated. The woman fixed him with a glare as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Yes, I am going to tow your car," she replied. "Unless you'd rather call Triple AAA. They should be here in a few hours, I think."

"And where are you planning to take my car?" he asked.

"To my shop."

"And where is your shop?" Logan asked

"In Stars Hollow."

Stars Hollow. The sign he'd crashed next to caught his eye once again, and he noted the single line of text written across it. Apparently, Stars Hollow was the only town within a reasonable distance. Plus, the woman had a point about Triple AAA. He couldn't very well expect her to tow his vehicle to a different mechanic, and considering the weather and the disaster on the I-91, it would probably take forever to get any other tow truck out here to help him. Besides, even if he did get someone else out here, he wouldn't know where else to take it, not without turning back to Hartford or heading on to New Haven.

"And you're Mercedes certified?" he asked.

"It's a car. It's broken. I fix it," she said. Though, Logan noted how she evaded the actual question. He narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, but she didn't even flinch under his gaze. Rather, she held it confidently, as if daring him to say one more doubtful word about her abilities.

"Fine," he relented with a sigh.

"Oh goodie," she replied. "I'm so excited to do business with you."

She hugged herself a bit against the cold as she turned around and started walking back over to her truck. Logan watched her for a while as she slid into the driver's seat and effortlessly started to back the vehicle up to the G wagon still wrapped around the tree he'd slid into.

"Well, alrighty then!" the mind numbingly cheery police officer said as the mechanic went about her business. "I'm Officer Weston with the Stars Hollow, PD. And while Gypsy's getting your car settled, why don't I get your information, huh?"

"Sounds great," said Logan, deadpanned.

Either the officer was ignoring his less than pleasant attitude, or he was simply too oblivious to even notice it. At this point, Logan couldn't be sure. He had the distinct feeling that he was dealing with a regular Barney Fife. Part of him had half a mind to simply forget about filing a report just so he wouldn't have to deal with the man. He was sure he'd be able to pay the cost of the repairs out of pocket, and at least that way his insurance premiums wouldn't go up. Ultimately, however, he decided that it was better to be safe than sorry.

He gave the man his license and registration, and he filled him in on the details of the incident, making sure to note that the deer had been the cause of his untimely swerve to the right. The officer walked around his car as Gypsy started attaching cables to the rear, taking notes about the damage and his license plate number.

"We should have a report ready for you in a couple days or so," the officer said as he walked back up to the street and tapped his pen against the notepad in his hand. "They say five to seven business days, but the truth is there's not that much happening at the Stars Hollow Police Department. It shouldn't take us that long."

Now he definitely felt like he was dealing with Barney Fife, and he had a feeling that he'd crashed his car right outside of Mayberry. A fantastic land where the cops weren't drowning in paperwork because nothing ever happened and no one ever got hurt. It was either the setting of a saccharine made for tv movie or a full on horror film. And he wasn't anxious to find out which one.

"Can I give you a ride somewhere?" Officer Weston asked, finally looking up from his pad with a smile.

Logan sighed as he gathered his thoughts. The Suburban squad car might be able to get him back to his parents' house in Hartford in one piece. But, the truth was he wasn't very excited about the prospect of going back there and facing his mother after he'd dismissed her concerns about his driving in this weather. Even if that conversation hadn't taken place, he wouldn't be very excited about the prospect of returning to his parents' house. Or sitting in a car with the man in front of him for another sluggish hour and a half commute through the snow.

"Can you take me to a hotel nearby?" he asked, surrendering himself to the fact that Stars Hollow was likely going to be his home for the couple of days while he waited for his car to be repaired.

"Sure can!" the officer cheered. "I know just the place!"

The drive to the hotel hadn't been very long at all. Not ten minutes after climbing into Officer Jolly's police car had they arrived at their destination, and to say it wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting was an understatement.

He'd expected a standard roadside hotel. A Hampton Inn or perhaps by some miracle even a Hilton or a Marriott. Yet, the building they had pulled up in front of looked nothing like a hotel. In fact, it looked more like a house. A large cottage style house with bright yellow siding, green shutters, and a wide front porch complete with rocking chairs. It wasn't exactly Logan's kind of scene on a normal day, and on a night like tonight, it definitely wasn't his scene.

The building looked like Santa himself had vomited a never ending string of Christmas cheer all over the place. There were massive garlands lined with lights and red ribbons covering every inch of railing, the lights shining softly from underneath the layer of snow that had piled on top of them. There were massive poinsettia bushes to the left and right I'd the wide set of stairs, electronic candles in every window, meticulously placed icicle lights hanging from the gabled dormers, and tall slim Christmas trees lined up on either side of the door. The lawn was home to three small deer made entirely of white Christmas lights, and that particular combination of themes was only serving to trigger his rage at the moment.

"Here we are!" said the officer as he parked and unfastened his seatbelt. Logan followed his lead, climbing out of the car and stepping down into the snow covered drive. "Stars Hollow's own Dragonfly Inn! Lucky they're still open."

The man nodded over at the soft light leaking out from the first story windows. He stepped forward, making his way inside, and Logan fell in step behind him. As he walked, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, checking his signal for what must have been the twentieth time since sliding into the man's car. Much to his frustration, only a single bar was lit up in the top left hand corner of his screen.

He needed to get an email out as soon as possible. He needed to text his assistant and tell her he wouldn't be at the office tomorrow after all. He needed to get in touch with his VP of acquisitions and let him know that he was going to have to fill in for him in the morning. He needed this damn town to exist in the 21st century rather than whatever alternate reality he'd stepped into.

Logan was so lost in his quest to find a signal, that he barely even noticed the fact that they had walked through the front door into the building. He was only made aware of his surroundings by the sound of a soft feminine voice coming from his left.

"Officer Weston," a young brunette woman greeted with a smile from behind the desk as the small man made his way over to the front desk. "What can I do for you?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Logan could see her closing a book that had been resting against the counter and shift herself in her stool so she was sitting up straight to greet them. His attention, however, was quickly pulled back to his phone, and he left the officer to deal with her for the time being. He didn't find himself in much of a mood for pleasantries at the moment.

"Howdy, ho!" he heard the officer greet enthusiastically. "I was wondering if you might be able to help out our wayward traveler here. He seemed to have an unfortunate confrontation with a tree down the road."

Logan rolled his eyes at the reminder of his circumstances, and he found his feet drifting away from the reception desk and toward a small sitting area on the other side of the steps while the two of them continued talking. He held his phone aloft in the air as he moved, trying desperately to find the perfect angle and miraculously stumble across any hint of a signal.

"There's no reception here."

Logan jumped at the sudden sound of the voice. The somewhat high pitched and childish sound had come out of nowhere, and when he turned his attention to the source, it was no wonder that it had. The boy was practically camouflaged in the couch, his grey crew neck sweater blending in perfectly with one of the throw pillows and his auburn colored hair getting lost in the reddish stripes of the upholstery. The only obvious marker of his presence there was the bright yellow Nintendo Switch Lite contrasting against him as he held it aloft and stared at it while he spoke.

Behind him was a tall Christmas Tree - real by the looks of it - covered in warm white twinkle lights and eclectic and colorful ornaments. Boxes of "presents" were piled underneath it. Though Logan had a feeling the they were likely nothing more than empty cardboard boxes recycled from old Amazon Prime deliveries.

"What?" Logan asked, still somewhat startled at the appearance of the child.

"There's no reception here," the boy repeated as he mashed harshly at the buttons under his fingertips. "You have to use the wifi."

Logan sighed again. He pressed at the home button on the bottom of his phone and pulled up the settings app. However, when he arrived at the wifi menu he was only further frustrated to find that the single available network titled 'Dragonfly' was marked with a tiny little lock symbol on the right side of his screen.

"What's the password?" he asked, throwing another look over at the kid only to see him shrug in response.

"I dunno," the boy said. Logan narrowed his eyes at him.

"What do you mean you don't know?" he asked. "How are you playing that if you aren't online?"

"Game card," he answered as if it was the most obvious response in the world.

Though, as much as he hated to admit it, Logan knew that it probably was the most obvious response in the world. After all, he himself had grown up in the age of light grey Gameboys the size of a brick powered only by a couple batteries and the insertion of 2x2 game cartridges that you had to blow the dust out of in order to make them work. He was well versed in the world of analog video games. He of all people should know that you didn't need the Internet to play them. Still, he didn't like to be intellectually judged by random punk kids.

"Besides," the boy continued. "It changes all the time. My mom always puts it in for me."

His mom. Right. Tenish year old kids usually came with moms, and those moms tended to have way more information. Like wifi passwords and the location of the nearest Hilton. Unfortunately for him, however, he didn't think that this kid's mom would be all that helpful with the latter. Considering the hour and the fact that the kid made it sound like he was at this Inn all the time, he would put money on the fact that the mom in question was the young woman sitting behind the reception desk. And she probably wouldn't be too keen to send business elsewhere.

He turned on his heel, making his way back over to the check-in counter where the officer was still chatting with the young woman, going on and on about all the gruesome details about his wrecked $170,000 SUV. To the woman's credit, however, she didn't seem to be all that interested, and she jumped at the chance to end the conversation as she saw him approach.

"Hi, sir. Welcome to the Dragonfly," she said. "I'm sorry to hear about your - "

"What's your wifi password?" Logan interrupted as he tapped on the network and prepared to start typing in whatever string of numbers and letters she provided to him. However, he tore his eyes away from the device when no response came.

Looking upon the woman's face, Logan was suddenly overcome by a feeling that he couldn't quite put his finger on. She was looking at him with an intense expression. Her head was tilted to the side, and there was a smile on her face. Though, the smile in question was hardly friendly. If anything, it was judgemental and harsh. She was practically blinking at him like that close up gif of the blonde guy that there was no escaping from on social media, and absolutely no part of her looked even remotely concerned with pleasing him.

He actually felt somewhat chagrined at her expression, which would usually only serve to poke at his ego and make him annoyed and angry. But this time, for whatever reason, he felt something else entirely. He felt strangely drawn to her, and he wasn't sure why. It wasn't only physical, though she was hardly suffering in that area. Her piercing blue eyes only added more intensity to her expression. She was young - probably about his age - and her brown hair fell around her shoulders in thick waves.

But, there was something else there. There was something completely non-physical about Logan's reaction to her confrontational attitude. There was something captivating. Something alluring. She had spunk. She hadn't even uttered a single word in response to him and yet he was acutely aware that he was dealing with a very intelligent woman who had no interest in dealing with his bullshit.

It wasn't a feeling he wasn't all that used to.

"The wifi is for guests only," she said, bitingly. Logan sighed again.

"Fine," he grumbled, reaching into his pocket to pull out his brown check Louis Vuitton wallet. He flipped it open and pulled out a black credit card before tossing it on the counter in front of her. "Do you take American Express?"

The brunette's lips pursed as her eyes flitted down to the card, and Logan could almost swear that he actually saw her roll her eyes at the sight of it. It wasn't typically how women reacted to the sight of that card, and it definitely wasn't how business owners typically reacted to the sight of that card. The best explanation he could think of was that she must just be an employee. An employee with a really nice employer if she let her bring her kid to work with her.

"We do," she said through gritted teeth as she reached down to pick up his card. "But as I was just explaining to Officer Weston when you wandered into the other room… we unfortunately just gave away our last room to a couple traveling through on their way to Vermont. So I'm afraid we can't help you, Mr…"

Her eyes drifted down to his credit card, and for a split second Logan saw her cool demeanor slip from her face. Almost as if she recognized his name.

"...Huntzberger."

When she looked up at him again, Logan could almost detect a note of panic in her expression. He narrowed his eyes somewhat, trying to figure her out. People recognizing his name wasn't anything new. A lot of people recognized his name. People in Hartford. In New York. In the media industry. But, he was hardly famous. It wasn't every day that some random woman in some podunk town knew he was. In fact, it wasn't ever that some random woman in some podunk town knew who he was.

Perhaps he was reading too much into it.

"Well…" he said. "Could you point me in the direction of a suitable place to stay nearby? Preferably four stars. Though five would be spectacular."

"That would be Hartford," she answered, her momentary change in demeanor completely over and her impatience back in full force. "Or maybe New Haven. In fact this is the only place to stay for about twenty miles."

Logan's heart fell through his chest at the sound of her words, and in that moment he actually came to appreciate how entirely fucked he was. Looking out the window behind him, he saw that the snow was falling even harder now than it had been when he'd slid his car off the road. Even if he could find a car to rent or get a hold of someone to come pick him up, they wouldn't be able to get anywhere. The company copters weren't going to be able to fly in this weather, and he'd rather die before he resorted to public transportation.

"Let me call my step-father," the woman said, reaching for the landline on the counter. "He has an apartment above his diner that he sometimes rents out on Airb&b - "

"No can do," Officer Weston suddenly said, cutting into the conversation with an oblivious smile. "April and her boyfriend flew into town this morning. Saw 'em there bringing their luggage in when I was getting lunch."

"Alright…" the woman said with a sigh. "Well...maybe Mrs. Bradley can let him stay in that apartment above her garage - "

"Tented," the officer interrupted again. "Termites. Real nasty."

The woman sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She slumped in her seat in frustration and started wrapping her fingernails against the solid wood counter between them. Logan wasn't sure why she was the one who looked so put out. After all, it was him who found himself stranded in the middle of nowhere with nowhere to stay and no feasible way to get out.

"Okay…" she said with a massive sigh. Her eyes flicked over to his for a moment and she started shaking her head back and forth in an expression that seemed somewhat akin to disbelief. "Then… I guess… he can stay with me for the night."

"Excuse me?" Logan asked, his shock evident in his tone. And this time, it was his turn to start blinking at the young woman in bewilderment.

"You can stay with me," she repeated, far more firmly this time around. She raised an arm, gesturing to the couch where the young boy was still playing his video game before continuing. "I can't very well let you sleep on the couch in the common area and frighten the guests in the morning. And I can't exactly kick you out on the street either."

She was actually well within her rights to kick him out on the street, and as far as Logan was concerned, any sane person would do exactly that. Inviting a perfect stranger into your home, even in these circumstances, was crazy. And he wasn't sure he wanted to stay in the house of a crazy person.

Maybe it was a small town thing. And, not for the first time, Logan was reminded that he just didn't understand small town people.

"I can… stay with you?" he asked, skeptically.

"Yes," she said with a sigh, signaling that she wasn't entirely happy with it. Yet, for some reason she was offering any way.

"You don't know me," said Logan.

"No, I don't."

"You don't know me, and you don't like me," he said, calling out the clear attitude she'd had with him just moments before. And honestly the one she still kind of had despite her strange offer. "And you're going to let me sleep at your house?"

"Well, you're not a serial killer or anything are you?" she asked, annoyed. "Though, now that I think about it maybe I should ask Officer Weston here to run a background check. I mean...you do have some Christian Bale American Psycho vibes going on here…"

She looked him up and down from head to toe and Logan actually found himself feeling strangely self-conscious standing there in his tailored suit, tie, and black overcoat. It was the first time anyone had ever made a less than positive comment about his appearance. And while she didn't say he looked bad, the implication that he looked like Patrick Bateman wasn't exactly a compliment.

"Well I do handle mergers and acquisitions. And I did do a semester at Exeter. But fortunately for you, I left my ax in the trunk of my car," he replied, unamused. But, the same could not be said for her.

She chuckled at the comment, the harsh and judgmental expression falling off her face for the second time since they'd started speaking to each other. Though, this time it was replaced by something far more appealing than the startled expression she'd had upon reading his name. This time it was replaced by a smile. Her bright blue eyes sparkled as her lips curled upward over straight pearly white teeth. And Logan once again felt an almost magnetic pull toward her.

"Fine. Then you'll stay with me," she said with a shrug. "But, just so you know, I have nothing of value for someone like you to steal. And if I end up the subject of a true crime podcast, I will haunt you for the rest of your life. And I can be really annoying if I want to be."

Logan let out something between a laugh and an affronted scoff, but she paid him no mind. She hopped down from her stool, landing on her feet and revealing herself to be much taller than he'd expected with her otherwise small frame. She then turned behind her and picked up a grey leather handbag.

"Thank you, Officer Weston," she said with her back still turned to them. "I think we've got it from here."

"You sure?" he asked. "I can run that background check. Or we could find a place for him to stay at the precinct…"

Logan's eyes went wide, and for a moment he was actually concerned that his hostess might end up thinking that the idea of him sleeping in a cell was preferable to him sleeping at her house. Yet, by the grace of God, she didn't budge.

"I'm sure." she said as she turned around again and placed her bag on the counter between them. "But, thank you."

The officer bid them a friendly - a too friendly - farewell, and they were left standing alone with each other for a moment as she started rooting through the contents of her bag. Logan's eyebrow twitched upward as a flash of light bouncing off of a silver monogram on the side of the bag caught his eye. It bore the initials MK, and while he knew that the designer wasn't the height of luxury, it still wasn't exactly the kind of bag he expected to see hanging off the arm of a receptionist at a boutique inn.

This girl was a complete and utter enigma to him.

"Ben!" she hollered as she slipped the book she had been reading before they arrived into the open bag in front of her. Logan caught a glimpse of the cover as she did, noting the face of Eleanor Roosevelt on the right side and the words The Firebrand and the First Lady written across the top. "Put your Gameboy away. It's time to go."

"Mom!" the boy whined. "It's not a Gameboy. It's a Switch!"

"I…. don't care…." she replied under her breath with a sigh.

She threaded her arm through the handles of her bag and stepped out from behind the counter just in time for the boy in question to land right in front of her feet.

"You ready?" she asked, treading her finger through the unruly wispy waves of his medium length hair.

"I thought Grams said we had to stay until eleven in case anyone checked in cause of the storm."

"Well, all the rooms are spoken for," she replied. "And I don't think Grams will mind if we leave a couple minutes early. This is Mr. Huntzberger. He's going to sleep at our house tonight."

Without his gaming system in front of his face, the boy actually looked up and made eye contact with him for the first time that evening. He scowled, twisting his nose in dissatisfied grimace, and Logan did his best not to be so strangely offended by the disapproval of a child. He didn't like to think his ego was that fragile, but there he was.

"He's a stranger," said the kid.

"He is," the woman replied with a nod. "But he had an emergency, and he needs a place to stay for the night. So, we're going to help him out. Remember that story about the time Grams' old Inn had that fire and people were stranded?"

"Yeah…" the boy responded, despondently.

"Well, this is just like that. Except… colder," she said. "Plus, it's Christmas. And Christmas is about helping people in need."

Helping people in need. Logan had been called a lot of things in his life, but a "person in need" was a brand new one. He'd never been in need of anything in his life, at least anything other than a stiff drink and a warm body to get lost in. Both of which he could go for now. Though, he didn't think he would have much luck with the woman standing next to him if the presence of the kid looking up at her held any indication.

"You don't want to call your husband about this?" he asked, knowing that if he were in the man's shoes he probably wouldn't appreciate his wife dragging home strange men at eleven o'clock in the evening.

"I don't have a husband," she replied, quickly and succinctly.

"Oh. Uh…" Logan stammered in response. "Sorry. I just… assumed."

"That's okay," the woman responded with a shrug. "A lot of people do…"

Despite her brush off of his question, there was an undeniable heaviness in the air. Her words and demeanor were tense and the fingers that had been pushing through her son's auburn locks had frozen momentarily. Yet, as quickly as her discomfort came, she pushed it to the side, dropping her hand to the boy's shoulder blades and giving him a gentle push.

"Go get your bag and your coat," she said, nodding at the sitting area. "Mr. Huntzberger and I will get the car started."

"Logan," he said, prompting her to look over at him while Ben walked away from them. "You can call me Logan."

"Alright," she said.

She took a step forward toward a camel colored coat hanging on a peg against the wall. Yet, before she could reach out to grab the garment, Logan's hand extended toward it almost on reflex. He pulled it down from it's hanger and spun it around in his hands until he was holding it open in a manner easy for her to slip her arms through.

She froze for a moment, staring at the open coat with her lips slightly open before looking up at him yet again with those cerulean blue eyes of hers. She looked momentarily shocked, but she was able to gather herself quite quickly. She turned around and slipped her arms through the coat, bristling ever so slightly when Logan's hands brushed against her shoulders as she helped her shrug it on.

"Um… thank you..." she said almost timidly. "...Logan."

"You're welcome…" he trailed off, realizing for the first time that he was about to go to this woman's home and he didn't even know her name. "I don't know what to call you."

"Rory," she said, softly. "Rory Gilmore."

TBC…

AN: Okay, folks. PSA time. In Hallmark land, it might be okay to invite strange men to randomly sleep at your house, but in real life please don't. Hahaha. That is a recipe for disaster. Though, I guess with these kinds of fics we need to have a little suspension of disbelief.

Are you surprised to see single mom Rory? Wondering why she's working at The Dragonfly? I hope so! Haha. Answers to come, I promise. I also promise that MtG will be my next update. I just really wanted to get the real meat of this story running, and it just flew out of my fingertips so I ran with it.

Thanks so much to the reaction to this so far. I really hope you like where it's going. :) Please review! And show your other fic writers some review love too!