by Addison Fox
And her half sister, Kate, walked through the door.
Chapter Three
Kate Winston tugged at the neckline of her heavy sweater as she walked into the warm lobby of the Indigo Blue. She hadn’t wanted to come out tonight, but Trina had insisted she make some attempt to be social. The holidays had been about as interesting as a root canal—and about as painful, too—and she hadn’t done much socializing.
She certainly hadn’t felt very social. Her father was gone and the holidays had been just as difficult as she’d known they would be.
But at least she’d made it through the first Christmas without him.
That now made Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas she’d passed, not to mention New Year’s Day. If she took out the birthdays to come in January—hers and her father’s—she could almost believe she was halfway through the first year of grieving.
Almost.
“Oh shit.” Kate heard Trina’s not so lightly whispered curse. “I didn’t know.”
Kate didn’t need to look across the room to know what had brought on the sudden wash of silence that had hushed every patron in the bar.
Her half sister, Grier, was back in town.
On a soft sigh, Kate crossed the room toward an empty set of chairs that formed a small conversation area. “Come on, Trina. Let’s grab a seat.”
She’d be damned if she’d run away. This was her home.
“We can leave if you want and go to Maguire’s.”
Kate didn’t miss Grier’s gaze as it caught her from across the room before the woman turned back around on her barstool. A quick spark fired in her blood as the low hum of conversation started up again. “No.”
“Look at her over there,” Trina added, warming up to the subtle battle of wills. “Thick as thieves. You’d think Avery would have more respect for the locals instead of taking the side of an interloper.”
“Are we really going to have this conversation again?”
“Yes, because you refuse to have it for the first time, let alone again. Why won’t you talk about this?”
Kate knew exactly why she wasn’t talking about it—because whatever she said would not only be quoted across town faster than she could walk the four blocks home, but it would be twisted beyond all recognition as it traveled. She knew not everyone thought of Grier in the same way Trina did.
As an interloper.
In fact, she knew a lot of people were starting to think Grier had a rather decent claim to a place in town. And they had also begun to think of Grier Thompson as their own.
Just like her father had.
“What can I get for you?” Avery’s smile was broad and her warm brown gaze was tinged with sympathy.
“Chardonnay.” Kate heard the clipped notes of her own voice but wasn’t all that inclined to hide them. The friendly smile she could take.
The sympathy was off-limits.
“Strawberry margarita,” Trina added. “And some of that bar mix you have.”
“Be right back.”
Trina fluffed her hair as she leaned forward to whisper across the small table that separated their chairs. “Look at her over there. She’s a barmaid, for Christ’s sake, and she’s run right back to her friend to gossip about you. I know it.”
Kate let her gaze roam back to the bar, but since she heard the distinct words “Super Bowl contenders,” “Giants” and “Packers,” rise from Avery’s direction, she was hard-pressed to believe the conversation had anything to do with her.
Trina’s phone went off and her friend leaped up like a cat that’d just been doused with water. “It’s that guy I met on New Year’s Eve. I’ll be right back.”
As Trina hot-footed it across the bar, her voice echoing for anyone to hear, Kate returned to her morose thoughts. Avery wasn’t gossiping about her. And she hadn’t been anything but kind when she’d come to take their drink order.
So why was she struggling so hard to accept the kindness?
“May I sit down?”
Kate looked up quickly to see Grier standing in front of her, pointing to an empty seat, a glass of white wine in her hands.
“Sure.”
“Here’s your wine. Avery had to go hunt up strawberry margarita mix.”
“Thanks.” Gray eyes so like her own bored into her as Kate accepted the drink.
“Did you have a nice holiday?”
“No. You?”
“Not particularly.”
“I thought New York was paradise at Christmas.” The words were out before she could stop them. It wasn’t like she was keeping up with Grier’s actions or anything.
And hey, Indigo was a small town and gossip was the engine that kept it warm in the winter. Everyone knew Grier had gone home.
It was a simple enough question.
“Well then, I guess paradise is overrated.”
Kate didn’t miss Grier’s gaze drifting toward Mick O’Shaughnessy as she said the words.
Before she could respond, Grier’s focus quickly swung back to her. “How did you do? You know, with the fact that this was the first holiday without our father.”
The words struck a painful chord somewhere in the middle of her chest and her throat felt suddenly choked with unshed tears. Fighting for composure, Kate focused on the small flame of annoyance at the “our father” term.
“Christmas was his favorite time of the year, you know.”
“No, I didn’t.” Grier’s voice tightened on the words as her familiar gray eyes grew overbright.
It was petty and small and Kate hated herself for doing it, but the tears cleared from her throat as the silly and unfounded anger sparked to life in her belly. “Oh yes. This was his absolute favorite time of the year. He decorated to the hilt and his house always had the best lights. He started doing that when I was a small kid because I loved it so much.”
The words hit their mark, as the high pink of Grier’s cheeks faded away.
“I’m sure it was spectacular.”
Kate reached for her wine and took a delicate sip, her gaze focused somewhere around the middle of Grier’s neck. “It was. Memories I’ll have forever.”
“Of course.” Grier focused on her own glass of wine as an unpleasant—awkward—quiet filled the space between them.
The real person inside—the one Kate had always taken pride in being—wanted to say something soothing, but that awful ache that had descended in the center of her chest the day she realized her father wasn’t going to get better refused to lift.
Trina flounced back across the lobby, her smile not nearly as broad as when she left. Kate could only assume New Year’s Eve guy wasn’t quite as enthusiastic about a repeat evening as Trina was.
“Where’s my margarita?”
“Avery’s getting the mix,” Grier said quietly.
Trina sighed heavily. “I knew we should have gone to Maguire’s. They’ve always got what I like.”
Grier stood. “Well, I’ll let you two enjoy the rest of your evening. I just wanted to say hello.”
“Tell Avery I changed my mind,” Trina called after Grier’s departing back. “Come on, Kate. Let’s get out of here.”
The little demon that had ridden in on her shoulder reared up and Kate refused to hold back in the name of friendship. “Bad call?”
“He wanted me to come down to Anchorage next weekend.”
“That was quick.” Kate reached for her purse and quickly fumbled around the bottom for her wallet.
“I said I’d rather he came up here for an afternoon and I’d show him around.”
“And?”
“He’s not interested. Said it was me coming to Anchorage or nothing.” Trina flipped her hair behind her as she reached for her coat. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll go.”
“Trina—” Kate broke off, knowing it was fruitless.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. I’m sick of this place and I’m sick of how boring it is and I’m sick of the fact that nothing ever changes. Maybe a little fun is
just what I need.”
“Yeah, but he’s clearly not interested in getting to know you.”
“Maybe all that’s overrated anyway.” Trina ran a hand through her vivid red hair before nodding toward the door. “Come on. Let’s change the scenery. This place is dead.”
Kate shook her head as she threw a ten on the small table, then stood to follow Trina out. The bad mood she’d walked in with had gone from bad to worse.
And she knew a change of scenery wasn’t going to lift her spirits.
“I’m going up to my room. It’s been a long day.” Grier pushed her half-drunk glass of wine across the bar toward Avery. “I’ll come down in the morning and we’ll catch up.”
“You okay?” Confusion stamped itself across Avery’s features as she stowed a bottle of bright red margarita mix under the bar. “Did I miss something?”
“Just an ill-timed attempt at making amends.”
“Grier—” Avery broke off. “What happened? Where are Kate and Trina?”
“I think I heard something about walking over to Maguire’s.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Really, I’m fine. It’s been an incredibly long day and I just need to crawl into bed. I promise I’ll be more fun tomorrow.” Grier stood, forcing an overly bright smile on her face. “We’ll catch up then.”
Avery looked about to argue and Grier could see the moment when she decided against it, her head bobbing in a slight nod. “Your bags were brought up when you came in, so go on up and relax. And I’m holding you to the catch-up session.”
“Absolutely.”
“One thing.”
Grier looked up from where she gathered her coat and purse. “What’s that?”
“If you change your mind about company, holler at me. I’ll bring the cookies.”
“Thanks.”
Grier shot a quick glance at Mick and Doc Cloud. The urge to take the coward’s way out was strong, but she’d already tried to be the bigger person once this evening. She might as well stick to it and keep up her new year’s streak. Crossing to the two men, she didn’t miss their smiles as she approached.
“It’s been a long day, so I’m going to head up.”
“You sure?” Mick’s gaze was steady as understanding shone from the deep blue pools of his eyes.
“Yep. I left New York at six this morning and I’m beat.”
Doc Cloud stood first and leaned forward to give her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Sleep well and welcome home, Grier.”
Home.
The word struck her hard and fast and she fought past the sudden lack of air in her lungs. “Thanks, Dr. Cloud.”
“Mick. Thanks for the ride.” She saw him step off to move closer and she shifted back, then turned on her heel.
She had to get out of here.
Now.
The soft, muted lights of the bar blurred as she crossed the room, blinking back tears. She would not cry.
Would. Not. Cry.
Doc Cloud had only been being nice. And although Kate had been anything but, it didn’t bear worrying about.
She wasn’t home.
And she wasn’t going to find a way to make amends with her sister.
And she wasn’t ever going to have memories of Christmas or anything else with her father.
On a heavy sigh, she shoved her hair behind her ear with one hand and stabbed at the elevator button with the other.
She was just tired. That was all. This sadness would pass.
The elevator door slid open and Grier stepped in, grateful when the doors slid closed again and she was cocooned in the privacy of the elevator. Life had been a bit overwhelming, but she’d be fine. She always was. Things would straighten out with her father’s estate and she’d get her life back and go home.
To New York.
The only home she’d ever known.
The doors slid open and she reached for her key card. Avery and Susan, the Indigo’s owner, had been kind enough to leave her things intact at the hotel, the holidays being one of their slower times. It was one of the most charming things about Indigo. They’d done it, not because they had to, but simply out of kindness.
The room wasn’t being used for any other purpose, so they were more than happy to do her a favor.
Such a simple gesture. Warm. Friendly.
“Are you okay?”
Grier nearly dropped her key card as Mick’s voice enveloped her from behind. Whirling, she didn’t miss the concern etched on his face in light lines or the frown that creased his forehead.
“Yeah. Sure. Like I said downstairs, I’m just tired.”
“You practically ran out of the lobby.”
“And here you are, following me.”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
The jumpy feeling that fired her blood every time she even thought about him sparked to life as her gaze drank in his broad shoulders and large frame.
“How’d you get up here?”
“The stairs.”
“How’d you know I was…” She trailed off as memories of their one night together filled her mind and fired more warmth to her already-sensitized nerve endings. “Never mind.”
The concern that bracketed the corners of his mouth quirked into a lazy grin and Grier knew he remembered exactly which room was hers.
And from the desire that darkened his baby blues, she knew he also remembered every detail as clearly as she did.
“Look, Mick, I appreciate the concern. Really, I do. But I’m fi—”
She swallowed her words as he moved in, whip-fast, his mouth taking immediate possession of hers. Her back pressed against the door of her room and her thick coat bunched between them, but it all faded to nothingness at the joy of being in his arms again.
His hands sprawled on either side of her head as he used his body to press her against the door. While the feeling should have been claustrophobic, Grier only wanted more as the desperate urge to take everything he could give beat through her.
Heat curled through her belly—warm and welcome—when his large, capable hands shifted from the door to cover her hips. Mick pulled her against him and the unmistakable proof of his arousal where it pressed against her stomach only heightened the moment. Brilliant sparks of pure, feminine appreciation lit her up.
She dropped her coat and purse between them as she reached to wrap her arms around his neck. His pulse beat heavy under her hands and the hair at his nape was soft as her fingers threaded through the longish strands.
A light moan rose up in her throat as he continued the relentless sensual assault, as his lips plundered hers with an urgent, restless need. With unerring precision, his tongue tangled with hers over and over, dragging one erotic sensation after another from their joining.
No matter how much she argued with herself to stay away from him, this thing between them—a desperate, urgent need that clawed and grabbed and demanded—simply would not be sated. One single night with him had not been enough.
Mick lifted his head as that wicked smile once again returned to his lips. The fact that his eyes were a bright, glazed blue gave her some solace that he was as affected as she was by what burned between them.
“So you’re fine?”
“I’m fine.” The words were soft and breathy and slightly strangled, completely belying her quick assurance.
He took another step back. “I can see that.”
“Really, Mick, I am.” Her words gained strength and it was only the evidence that she’d regained some of her equilibrium that kept her from pulling him right back against her.
He took one more step back as his smile faded. “I meant every word of that text I sent you on New Year’s Eve. I’m not walking away from what’s between us. I will, however”—he leaned in and pressed one hard, quick kiss to her lips—“let you get some sleep.”
Long after he’d disappeared back through the stairwell, Grier stood there, her back still pressed to the door with her coat and purse
at her feet. She knew Mick wasn’t walking away.
But what would happen when she eventually did?
Chapter Four
Grier hit mile two of her run as Jon Bon Jovi’s luscious voice came through her earbuds. Although she wasn’t so sure he was accurate about being able to go home, she’d never argue the fact that he was sweet accompaniment to her daily torture routine.
With Jon’s voice keeping her pace at a fast clip, she allowed her gaze to roam the room. The Indigo Blue boasted an impressive workout facility, practically putting her gym back in New York to shame. Even if all of it was likely another gift from Roman, the hotel owner’s absent son and current high-scoring forward of the NHL, she had to admire the gleaming rows of well-kept machines and ruthlessly organized weight racks.
The strains of Bon Jovi gave way to some Donna Summer, followed by Pink as Grier cranked up the incline.
If you’re gonna sweat, you might as well make it worthwhile, the annoying voice in her head whispered, pushing her on. She’d had the same workout routine for more than a decade and it never failed to piss her off that she’d yet to find a song combination that made the incline portion of her run palatable.
But God bless Pink for almost getting her there.
The strains of Trouble floated over her consciousness as she sweated toward mile three and with the music came thoughts of Mick.
The man was trouble, all right. Two point eight seconds in his company and she was ready to drool. Five more seconds and she was wrapped in his arms, her brains leaching out of her head.
How did that happen?
And why did it have to happen at the worst possible moment in her life?
The waving of a hand caught her up short and Grier almost fumbled on the machine as Sloan’s eyes grew wide.
“I’m sorry!”
Grier waved back as she righted her footing and reached for her earbuds. “What are you doing here?”
“Nearly killing you on your run, apparently. I’m sorry.”
“You just snuck up on me, that’s all.” Grier lowered the treadmill’s incline, then the speed, until she was moving at a brisk walk.