by Addison Fox
Although she hated to lie, she and Mick had agreed that the fewer people who knew what they were doing, the better. She’d done her level best to keep her situation with her inheritance from her father private and she’d be damned if she’d start blabbing all over town any new details.
Besides, they technically were going to Fairbanks. Mick had several runs he could make as part of the trip, so they’d spend tomorrow night there, refueling the plane and staying overnight before heading to Barrow the next day.
“Sounds like a romantic getaway to me.”
“I’m doing some sightseeing.”
“And what glorious sights they are,” Chooch said on a reverent whisper.
“Chooch!” Grier threw a wadded-up receipt at the woman. “What is it with this entire town? Everyone wants Mick and me to have sex.”
“Lots of it, too. The women of this town are living vicariously through you, my dear. Please don’t take away our enjoyment.”
Grier snorted at that. “Oh come on. Surely the man’s had girlfriends before. I can’t be the first woman he’s ever dated.” As she said the words—and put a definition on them—a heavy flutter hit her stomach.
Dating? Girlfriends? Was she really willing to go there?
She wasn’t so resistant to think they didn’t have a personal relationship, but definitions like those were serious.
“That man’s more private than you are. Other than how gaga he is over you, none of us has ever seen him all that fussed up about a woman.”
“Surely he’s dated.”
“Of course. There have been rumors aplenty—even a sighting or two over the years—but Mick O’Shaughnessy has steered clear of the women of this town since the ninth grade when he dated Jenny Stewart.” Chooch sniffed. “It’d be insulting if he weren’t so damn lovable.”
Grier struggled with the description of Mick’s love life versus the virile, vibrant man she’d come to know. Clearly he was discreetly enjoying his time outside the prying eyes of Indigo.
“Now”—with a fingernail Grier tapped one of the many folders she’d sorted the receipts into—“these are all in order and ready to file away. I want you to take these home and keep them in a safe place in case I need to see them again before we file your return. And you really should keep them anyway in the event of an audit.”
“Do you want a puppy?”
Grier stopped in her tracks where she’d organized the file folders together into a neat pile. “I’m sorry?”
“Well, you talked about the dog receipts. And we’re about to have a new litter. And Mick’s got his sights set on you. A puppy’s the next step.”
A puppy was so not the next step, but Grier wasn’t sure she could get those words out past the stranglehold of panic that had seized her.
“Um, I’m sorry, but I’m going to need to pass on the puppy.” As Chooch’s face fell, she quickly rushed on. “I’m sure it’ll be a beautiful litter, but a puppy’s not going to do very well in a Manhattan apartment.”
Chooch’s eyes narrowed and Grier wished she could bite back the words. “You’re going back?”
“Well, yes. I haven’t moved to Indigo permanently.”
“But what about Mick?”
“That’s for him and me to decide.”
The older woman stood and Grier didn’t have to wonder where the sudden frost came from. Chooch gathered up her folders and marched for the door. As she crossed over the threshold, she hollered back over her shoulder, “Enjoy the trip.”
Mick sat in the terminal and pored over his flight plans as he drank a cup of coffee. He’d finished up a little earlier than he’d expected and the extra time had turned out to be a boon. He hadn’t lied to Grier—he had been all over Alaska and back—but he hadn’t been to Barrow in a few years. A bit of extra time to check his maps and work out a few routes was welcome.
“Do you know Grier is headed back to New York?”
Maggie stood next to the table, her hands on her hips and an expectant expression riding her gaze. A gaze, he added to himself, that was made positively frightening by the mint green eye shadow that covered her eyelids.
“Now?”
“No. When she’s ready to go home.”
He reached for his mug and leaned back in his chair, well aware his comments in the next few minutes would dictate the messages that ran up and down the town’s grapevine for the next forty-eight hours. “She’s said as much.”
“Well, you can’t let her do that.”
“I don’t think I have all that much say in it.”
“Of course you do. You’re a catch and you’re crazy about each other and you need to convince her to stay. She’d be a fool to walk away from you.”
He did believe Grier’s stubborn resistance to what was between them was a mistake and he was going to do his level best to prove that to her over the coming days.
But Maggie’s approach?
No way.
“Maggie, I presume you do realize it’s 2013? A woman can make up her own mind about who she wants to date.”
“Well then, put your game face on. You’ve got more charm in that little finger than most men do in their whole damn body.” She wagged a brightly painted fingernail at him. “I suggest you put it to good use.”
With that she marched off, her heavy footfalls echoing through the empty terminal.
“You give me far too much credit,” he muttered to himself as he stood and rolled up his plans.
While the idea of Grier’s leaving left a painful, gaping hole in his stomach every time he thought about it, Mick would be damned if he let the town dictate his course of action.
Hell, he wanted Grier to stay and he knew everyone else had grown rather fond of her as well. But he’d be damned if he’d be goaded into keeping her like some bad sixties sex comedy.
He was still fuming fifteen minutes later as he slammed into Walker’s office. “I don’t have any more runs today, so please tell me you have scotch, whiskey or bourbon in that filing cabinet over there.”
“I’ve got all three. What do you want?”
“Bourbon,” Mick ground out as he dropped into one of the chairs opposite Walker’s desk.
“Let me guess.” Walker handed him the bourbon, then sat down in the chair next to him and raised his own glass. “Grier’s headed back to New York.”
“Fuck, shit and damn,” Mick muttered as he knocked back a large sip of the bourbon. “Word travels even faster than I realized.”
They both glanced at the door of Walker’s office, then said in unison, “Myrtle.”
Myrtle Driver was Walker’s secretary. She’d been working for him since the day he’d opened his practice, fresh out of law school. She’d stood at the front door, telling him how things were going to work between them.
Best Mick could tell, the woman did little work, was obsessed with spider solitaire and was one of the key nodes on the town grapevine. The only reason Walker hadn’t ever fired her was because the woman had an unshakeable faith in the legal system and wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone about what went on in the office.
Anything outside the files of Walker’s law firm, however, was more than fair game.
“I hear ya talking about me,” came a loud voice from the outer office. “And if you don’t do something about that girl, Michael Patrick O’Shaughnessy, you’re not the man I thought you were.”
Mick rubbed his eyes and groaned inwardly. “What is wrong with this town?”
Walker stood and crossed the room, closing his office door with a definitive snap. “Do you want me to start making a list?”
“No, seriously.” Mick lifted his head. “What is wrong with them? I thought it was only the grandmothers, but it’s all of them. The women of this town are bat-shit crazy about love.”
“It’s definitely in the air.”
“No thanks to you.” Mick shot his best friend a dark look. “Hell, Grier and I aren’t married. We’re barely dating. What would make anyone think the
woman was staying here?”
“I think the better question is, do you want her to stay here?”
Mick saw how neatly Walker had boxed him in and refrained from indulging the urge to break something.
“That’s a shitty question, Counselor. Isn’t that leading the witness or something?”
Walker shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Does the witness want to be led?”
“Bite me.”
Grier thought back over every scary thing she’d done in her life. Skydiving had been terrifying but exhilarating. Traveling out of Romania during a coup while on a business trip had been particularly daunting. And presenting at an annual meeting of the partnership had turned her insides to mush for days.
But she knew none of these had come close to answering the summons to dinner that had appeared for her at the hotel at three o’clock that afternoon.
Oh, the invitation looked innocent enough, Grier knew. But the pleasant order layered underneath it was clear.
Mary O’Shaughnessy was inviting her, Avery and Sloan, as well as Walker and Mick, to dinner.
And there was no number to extend her regrets.
Grier walked in front of the mirror once more, smoothing her skirt with shaking hands. She’d almost left this skirt at home and thanked whichever god looked out for women headed into scary family situations that she’d thought to pack it.
A brief knock on the door had her turning away from the mirror and she knew the time for stalling was done.
She opened the door and nearly lost her breath as she took in Mick on the other side. He wore a gray dress shirt, tucked neatly into pressed black slacks. His blue tie set off his eyes to absolute perfection and she had a brief, pressing urge to wrap both hands around that tie and pull him inside the room.
Of course, an action like that would only reinforce why she was being summoned to dinner, but now that the image had taken hold, Grier couldn’t quite shake it.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. You look very handsome.” And sinful, her overactive imagination added.
Mick helped her into her coat and she didn’t miss the veneer of nerves that coated his words. “I didn’t know she was going to do this.”
“I know.”
“I got the call this afternoon. Her words were stern as she warned me that there was no such thing as free milk and the least I could do was bring a woman I was dating over to see her.”
Grier wanted to wince at the free-milk comment, but it was hard to be embarrassed when the entire town kept encouraging them. “She found out about the trip.”
Mick raised his eyebrows. “Since you and I have been the subject of nearly every other conversation that’s happened in this town for the last three days, I’d say that’s a safe bet.”
“Why’d she invite Sloan and Avery along?”
“My grandmother may be scary, but she’s fair.” He opened the door and gestured her through.
“What’s fair got to do with it?”
“She clearly wanted you to have reinforcements as you walked into battle.”
Grier felt her stomach drop as her hotel door slammed shut behind them.
The party was already in high gear when they arrived at Mary O’Shaughnessy’s house ten minutes later. Mick helped her out of his SUV and as her booted feet slid into a slushy pile of snow, she inwardly offered up thanks that she’d remembered to pack her heels in a separate bag.
“You okay?”
“I’m good. And very glad I’m in boots.”
He escorted her up the walkway of his grandmother’s house and Grier took in the beautiful lines of the large home. Heavy logs framed the structure and bright, warm light shone from each window.
“It’s a log cabin. Well, cabin’s a stretch, but it’s the same idea.”
“My grandfather built it.”
“It’s gorgeous. And welcoming,” she added as they got to the front door.
“That’s about the biggest compliment you can give my grandmother.”
The door swung open on his words and Mary O’Shaughnessy’s bright, smiling face greeted them. “What compliment is that?”
“Your home, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy,” Grier said as she stepped into the large foyer. “It’s warm and welcoming.”
Mary leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, dear. That’s the nicest thing you can say about a home.”
Mick pulled Mary into a tight hug and Grier reveled in the brief moment as observer. It was a welcome change from the ever-present gazes that focused on her, and his ready and simple affection for his grandmother was refreshing.
While she had no doubt the woman drove him crazy half the time, the love, respect and genuine affection the two of them clearly held for each other were lovely to see in action.
“Well, come on in, then.” Mary gestured. “It’s too cold to stand out here.”
They were quickly escorted down a long hallway that led to the kitchen. Heavy wood framed the ceiling that arched above them and the various guests were assembled around a large round table or the large island that dominated the center of the kitchen.
Grier did a quick count and noted that in addition to the guests she’d expected, Julia and Sophie were there, along with Doc Cloud and Jess and Jack.
Mary had her hand in a firm grip and led her straight to the island. “Let’s get Grier fixed up with a drink and then I want to finish hearing all about the wedding plans.”
Avery thrust a glass of wine in her hands and Sloan patted her arm, and Grier quickly found herself enveloped in a friendly, engaged circle of women as they discussed wedding dress material, bridesmaid colors and cake-filling flavors.
It was several long minutes later before she even thought to look for Mick. He stood with the other men near the entrance to a large family room, a big screen behind him showing a hockey game. Intermittent shouts or groans would go up from their group from time to time, but the low, steady hum of their voices was a pleasant counterpoint to the wedding chatter.
Several barstools had been strategically arranged around the island for the older women and Mary settled herself on the one closest. Grier smiled as Sloan described a wedding dress she’d found in a magazine, happy to see someone she loved so excited.
As she watched Sloan’s animated face, she felt Mary take her hand and give it a small squeeze.
Grier squeezed back, the nerves she’d walked in with a distant memory.
Jason sat in the overstuffed chair in the corner of the Jitters, his iPad open on his lap. He’d thought to distract himself with the Wall Street Journal, but the only thing he’d managed to do was play a few rousing rounds of Angry Birds.
He was stalling and he knew it.
He’d come here to win Grier back, but so far he’d spent every free moment watching TV, answering e-mail or playing on the damn tablet.
Or thinking fleeting thoughts about gray eyes—so familiar, yet not—that probed and penetrated and saw slightly too much.
On a harsh sigh, he refocused his wayward thoughts toward Grier. She’d made it abundantly clear she had no interest in getting back together when they’d spoken the other night. Add in her forgiveness—which actually seemed quite genuine—and he should be relieved.
Like a tantalizing breath of fresh air after being shut up inside for days on end, he wanted to take her at her word and move on. But there was no way in hell he could come back from Indigo without his fiancée in tow.
He glanced back down at the device in his lap. Although he had maintained a steady check on e-mail, the office had been abnormally quiet, his team all actively working on their outstanding projects. Maybe there really was some merit to working your ass off to make partner, he thought with no small measure of satisfaction.
Or maybe the old man told everyone to leave you the hell alone while you were groveling.
Ignoring the sinking feeling that the answer was housed in his father’s almighty influence, Jason closed the game app and opened up the
Journal.
His eyes had nearly glazed over reviewing the stock ticker when a soft voice punctuated his thoughts. “Mind if I sit down?”
Jason looked up to see Kate standing over his chair, as if he’d conjured her from his overheated thoughts, and he quickly sat up. “Of course. Please.”
She took the seat opposite and set her large coffee mug down next to his. “You look very important sitting there.”
“Just staying up on the news.”
She raised her eyebrows in a move eerily reminiscent of Grier. “The Wall Street Journal’s a far cry from the Anchorage Daily News.”
“It’s all news. Here today, gone tomorrow.”
“I’d have said the same for you, but you’re still hanging around.”
“I have some unfinished business.”
“Is that what you’re calling it?”
An unexpected annoyance broke his composure and he wondered at the reaction. “Do you think you know better?”
“All I know is that you came here presumably to win Grier back, yet you’ve steered clear of her. It makes me wonder why.”
“She’s been busy.”
“Planning a trip with another man.”
Jason had spent his life ensuring no one knew what he really thought about anything—not his father, not his friends and certainly not women. And he was damn good at it.
So he was more than a little surprised when Kate’s eyes lit up like a slot machine.
“I can see from the expression on your face that you didn’t know about that.”
“I’m not blind.” Jason quickly regrouped. “I know she’s got a thing for the pilot. And it’s more than clear he’s got one for her.”
“That’s an interesting reaction from a man who’s trying to win a woman back.” Kate leaned forward, a light, sexy smile playing around the corners of her lips. “So tell me. What’d you do? To piss her off, I mean.”
His stomach tightened as he remembered those dark moments in the office. He’d barely even looked twice at Charlotte, their temp, but she’d sought him out.
And once sought, he’d allowed himself to be caught.
The teasing smile dropped and Kate sat back. “That bad? What a shame.”
As if finally finding his voice, he said, “What’s a shame?”