Come Fly With Me

by Addison Fox

  Which was the exact reason he needed to kick back with a few beers and shake off this maudlin attitude that had hit him on his midafternoon delivery in Talkeetna.

  Petey Stone, the town dry goods owner, had meant well. Hell, Mick had known the man since he was a kid and the guy didn’t have an unkind bone in his body.

  It was just bad timing.

  “How’s your father doing, Mick? Haven’t seen him for a while.”

  Mick had wanted to respond back with That makes two of us, but he’d held back and offered up a big smile. “He’s been chasing wild things in Montana. I’ll let him know you asked after him.”

  “You bet. Tell him I’m finally ready to part with that Winchester rifle he’s had his eye on.”

  “Will do, Petey. How’s Sandy doing?”

  “Fine, real good.”

  “And I bet the grandkids are getting big….”

  The conversation faded off in his mind as he reached for the longnecks Ronnie held out to him. With a smile and a wave toward the back of the bar, he added, “I suspect we’ll need another round before long as well.”

  He left his credit card, irritated when he couldn’t quite shake off the afternoon.

  A new rifle…Like hell he’d be sharing that bit of news with his father. Besides, he consoled himself as he shoved his wallet back in his pocket, by the time the old man managed to even get his ass back to town, it’d be summer. Petey would have sold the gun by then.

  Which was fine by him.

  Damn it. Mick shook his head as he crossed toward the back booth. He had to get past it.

  Had to loosen up a bit.

  And found it hard to be surprised when the sight of Grier, her cheeks bright with color and a broad smile on her lush mouth, managed to help him do just that.

  The hard pit of grief that had been lodged inside him all afternoon eased, shrinking as he sat down next to her. The warmth of her body burned into his where they touched, shoulder to hip to leg, and Mick felt a different sort of tightness grip him.

  She felt good.

  And when she didn’t scoot over or put room between them, that ball of lead in his stomach faded away entirely, replaced by the intoxicating thrill of being near her.

  “I told Ronnie to send another round over when he gets a free minute.”

  The three women let out a loud burst of giggles and all he could do was stare at Jack in what had to be a matched expression of puzzlement.

  “There’s something funny about another round?”

  “There is when it’s Ronnie bringing it,” Grier whispered. “He’s got a crush on Avery.”

  “And has since he was about thirteen,” Jack added. “He was just always afraid Roman would come back and beat the shit out of him.”

  “Like that would have happened. Besides, Roman wouldn’t beat up a kid.” Avery’s quick leap to Roman’s defense had Mick resisting the urge to smile. His old friend had fucked up royally when he’d walked out on Avery, but it was nice to see she could still defend him from time to time.

  Mick had always thought it was a shame the two of them hadn’t found a way to stay friends. And even as he thought it, he had to admit that friendship wouldn’t be enough if Roman felt for Avery what Mick felt for Grier.

  Maybe Avery and Roman had it right. Sever ties and move on.

  The warmth of Grier’s body continued to heat him and a low-grade burn settled under his skin.

  He wanted her.

  No matter how much he wanted to respect her wishes, he couldn’t deny that. She had a powerful hold on him and he wanted to let loose with her.

  “You sure you’re ready for Chooch and Hooch tomorrow?”

  Mick clued back in on the conversation as Grier’s nervous laugh registered. “I’m not sure.”

  “What is this?”

  Grier lifted an eyebrow as she turned toward him in the booth. “You mean there’s actually someone in this town who doesn’t know my business?”

  “I’ve been out on runs all day.”

  “Well, I should be grateful it hasn’t made it to the airstrip yet.”

  “You’re doing Chooch and Hooch’s taxes,” Jack said dryly over his beer.

  “Damn it! I do not believe it.” Grier slapped a hand on the table. “News does travel fast.”

  “Maggie’s got a bet going that their return this year will be over a cool million.”

  “No way,” Jess breathed. “Have you seen that odd farm they live in? There’s no way they’ve got that much money.”

  Jack held out a hand. “Wanna bet?”

  “Well, whatever it is, I won’t be sharing the number.” Grier’s voice was prim and that spine of steel was back. Mick couldn’t help but admire the hell out of her convictions.

  “Oh, we don’t expect you to tell,” Jack quickly reassured her. “Hooch’ll be all around town with the number before you even get their return e-mailed to the IRS.”

  “You’re really doing this?” Mick couldn’t help asking.

  “It’s not like I had a choice. Chooch is sort of a whirling dervish. And I was an easy mark this morning over at the Jitters.”

  “How so?”

  “I’m so bored, I’m about to start hand washing my clothes. With rocks,” Grier added as an afterthought.

  “You know….” Jess leaned forward. “This isn’t a bad idea. Lots of folks could use help with their taxes. You’ve got a bit of time on your hands. Why don’t you set up shop and help them out?”

  “This isn’t exactly my thing,” Grier said softly. “I’m a corporate accountant.”

  “But you know how to do income taxes,” Jess said, pushing her point.

  “Well, yeah. Of course. But it’s not like…” She broke off. “I guess it’s not a bad idea. And it would be nice to help out the people who have made me feel welcome here.”

  “I’m sure Walker would let you set up in the office. And we’ve got a secure area to lock up the files each day.”

  Mick felt the change in Grier almost immediately. A gentle hum vibrated off her as she turned the concept over in her mind. “You all really think this is a good idea?”

  Mick turned toward her and laid a hand over hers. “I think it’s a great idea.”

  Chapter Eight

  “You don’t have to walk me back. It’s not that far.” Grier turned toward Mick as they walked out of Maguire’s. The hard bite of cold caught her by surprise—as it always did—and she rubbed her mittened hands together.

  Damn, but she’d never known cold like this before. It infiltrated the bones and bit at the skin with sharp, gnawing teeth.

  It was also strangely exhilarating.

  “I could see Avery wasn’t ready to turn in yet and it’s clear you’re ready to go.”

  “It doesn’t make people feel all that comfortable when their accountant has a hangover.”

  “Funny thing, that. They feel pretty similar about their pilots.” Mick pulled on a pair of heavy gloves. “So we both have a good reason to leave.”

  You could have an even better one than doing tax returns if you’d just let yourself see where things with him could go, her conscience taunted.

  That damn voice had gotten louder with each boring day that left her with nothing but her own thoughts for company. Loud and insistent, it had no problem taunting her with the reminder that Mick would be ready, willing and able to help her pass the time.

  And then it had gone and broken the sound barrier the moment Mick had sat down next to her in the booth, his long body edged alongside hers.

  If only he weren’t so hot. It was hard to ignore a man who radiated heat like a furnace.

  Right. Because that was the only reason. She’d also heard there was some nice waterfront property just outside town that someone would sell her.

  The street was quiet as they moved down the sidewalk, the sounds of the bar fading behind them into the night air.

  “We’re scheduled for another big storm. Look.” Mick pointed upward. “No stars.”


  “Can you still fly?”

  “Depends on the weather. If this is as bad as they expect it to be, we won’t make any runs tomorrow.”

  Grier couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but something tinged the edges of his words. It wasn’t what he said, so much as something she sensed that hovered underneath. She’d felt it at the bar, too. He’d been quiet, smiling and nodding but not really saying much.

  “You don’t sound too upset about it.”

  “A day off’ll be a welcome change.”

  “Is that all?” She wasn’t sure why she pressed—couldn’t have explained it if she’d tried.

  “Sure, why?”

  “I don’t know. You seem, well, a little sad.”

  “Everything’s fine.” He reached for her elbow and pointed with his free hand. “Be careful there. Black ice.”

  Grier sidestepped the ice, leaning into him as he pulled her closer. “Thanks.”

  She didn’t say anything else, curious to see what he’d do.

  “Why do you think I’m sad?”

  “Just a sense, really.”

  The hand at her elbow tightened reflexively and she wondered if Mick even noticed. “I ran into an old friend today on one of my runs. He said a few things and it just churned up a few memories. Nothing big.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Really. It’s nothing.” He pulled her to his side again, dropping her elbow to wrap a hand around her waist. “There’s another patch. Watch it.”

  “Okay.” She wanted to ask more—wanted to understand why something that wasn’t a big deal had put him in a mood—but knew she had no right to push.

  So instead, Grier reveled in the feel of his strong arm around her body and was glad when he didn’t move away. The odd dance between them—a step forward, another back—had a funny sweetness to it she was loath to give up.

  She didn’t want to be a tease, but neither could she ignore the way he made her feel.

  Safe and wanted. And special. Very, very special.

  “You’re awfully quiet.” Mick’s arm tightened on her waist.

  “It’s a quiet…”

  Her words evaporated as her foot hit a patch of ice. On sheer instinct she turned toward him, her hands seeking purchase wherever she could get a good grip. The movements were ineffective, doing nothing more than sending him off-balance so they both went sprawling.

  “Night.” Grier couldn’t hold back the laughter as she inhaled a mouthful of leather from his jacket. Pushing on his arm, she tried to dislodge the heavy weight he made on her chest.

  Mick scrambled, unable to get his footing on the slick surface. No sooner had he lifted himself off her than he fell right back down, his face landing on the heavy padding of the front of her coat. Another peal of laughter bubbled up before she could stop it and Grier’s arms went around him in a gesture so natural, she barely realized she did it. “You’re the graceful one.”

  “You have no idea.”

  He planted his hands on either side of her body and lifted himself above her. Although the weight lessened, she could still feel the solid length of him and the sensation shot heat straight to her core.

  A wicked light glinted off his blue eyes and Grier knew she was in dangerous territory. She wanted this man.

  Oh, how she wanted him.

  Strands of desire bound them together as time seemed to slow. The feel of her in his arms—even covered in layers of down coat—was a heady aphrodisiac and Mick could feel her lithe form through the heavy material. Their breath puffed in quick exhalations between them as soft clouds of mist floated past their cheeks.

  His body responded, hard and tight with need. One long moment spun out after the next as they stared at each other under the light of the streetlamps, torturing each other with promises of all that could be between them.

  It was that thought—of what could be—that finally pulled him back from the mindless oblivion. He’d been accused of a lot of things in his life, but horny bastard out for his own selfish ends had never been laid at his feet.

  She’d said no and he’d respect that.

  Even if it killed him.

  Seeing as how he’d very nearly forgotten they were lying on a cold, ice-covered sidewalk in January, he knew he was dangerously close to that oblivion.

  “Grier, I’m sorry. Let me help you up.”

  She squirmed underneath him as if coming back to her senses and he had to hold on to her shoulders to still her. “Hold on or we’ll end up right back in the same spot.”

  Once she stopped moving, Mick looked for a patch on the sidewalk without ice. As soon as he found it, he planted one heavily booted foot and shifted to stand. Extending a hand, he bent down. “Come on now, nice and easy.”

  She trembled to her feet like a colt standing for the first time. As soon as she was steady, she dropped her hand from his.

  “Come on. The hotel’s not too far.”

  They continued on in the same direction, slower now in hopes of avoiding another slick patch. “You didn’t hurt anything, did you?”

  “No.” Her breath whooshed out in a heavy puff as she added a sigh to punctuate the denial. “Nothing other than my pride.”

  “You’d be surprised by how many people end up on their ass in January in this town.”

  Another telltale puff of breath accompanied her soft-spoken words. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “Oh?”

  They came to a halt at the edge of the Indigo Blue’s parking lot. “I’m not a tease, Mick.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “It’s not hard to read the subtext.”

  A surge of anger welled up. He hadn’t thought of her as a tease and he’d be damned if he’d let her think he did. “There is no subtext other than good old-fashioned male frustration. I want you, Grier. I’m not going to go away and pretend that’s not the case. I’m also not going to pretend I don’t see the reciprocal interest.”

  “I know that. And, for the record, I’m blaming me, not you. You’re like a drug and I’m the addict waiting for my next fix.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “My whole life has been built on the premise that good behavior begets good things. And you know what?” The words flew from her lips in a heated wave as fire burned in the depths of her gray eyes. “It’s all bullshit!”

  Mick reached for her, not quite sure what had prompted the sudden flash of rage. “Grier. Calm down. It’s all right.”

  “No, Mick. It’s not all right. It’s anything but fucking all right.”

  She turned and began to pace and Mick was abstractly grateful Susan had seen to it the parking lot was clear of any snow and ice. Whatever bothered Grier had to come out. He suspected this was as good a time as any.

  “You want to tell me what this is about?”

  “I want you so bad I’m cross-eyed with it. I mean, for God’s sake, we were just lying there on a frozen sidewalk and I wanted to strip your clothes off. Who does that?”

  “Us, apparently?”

  Her eyebrows narrowed and he didn’t miss the telltale furrow that marred her forehead. “You’re missing my point.”

  “Obviously.”

  “All my life I’ve done the right thing and it’s gotten me here. To this place. Fucked up and out of answers. Totally and completely out of answers.”

  “You think I can’t be one of those answers?”

  “I don’t know. I swear to God, Mick, I just don’t know. But I do know I can’t live with myself if I hurt you.”

  With that, she turned and walked into the Indigo Blue. It was at the very last moment—just before she walked through the door—that she turned back to look at him.

  It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

  It had to be.

  * * *

  Grier reached for the carafe of coffee on the center of the conference room table and poured her third cup of the morning. She hadn’t slept well and in the unique irony that
only a sleepless night could provide, she’d now give her last nickel to crawl back into bed and sleep for a week.

  “You’re looking bright eyed this morning,” Chooch declared as she marched into the conference room, a shoe box under her arm. “You sure you’re up to this?”

  “Of course.”

  “Word has it you spent the evening at Maguire’s,” Hooch added.

  “I was back by ten,” Grier answered, sitting up straighter in her chair. “I was simply out with a few friends.”

  “So that’s what you’re calling Mick, now?” Hooch smiled, but Chooch hushed him with a swift hit to the gut.

  “Damn, woman. It’s not a secret those two are crazy about each other.”

  Grier ignored the not-so-subtle attempt at garnering gossip and focused on the task at hand.

  “Why don’t you both take a seat and we’ll get started. I usually wait until February to do taxes, but I presume you’re not waiting on W-2s from an employer. Is that correct?”

  “Yep.”

  “What about bank statements, investment statements, things like that?”

  “Oh yeah, we’re still waiting on those”—Hooch waved his hand—“but we figured it’d be best to get started sorting through everything. That’s always what takes me the longest.”

  “Sorting through everything?” Grier eyed them over the rim of her mug as they each took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

  “Yep.” Chooch laid her shoe box on the table and Hooch set a matched one beside it. “All our receipts are in there.”

  “That’s how you’ve kept track of your expenses?”

  “Yep.” Both nodded.

  “That’s the only way? For the entire year?”

  Both nodded again.

  Grier thought briefly about politely declining the work and sending them on their way and then remembered the sheer boredom of the last week. At least this would be boredom with a purpose. “All right, then. Let’s get you set up and then you can leave this with me and I’ll work through it.”

  “You sure about that?” Hooch looked skeptical. “I mean about us leaving things.”