by Nicole Snow
Jesus.
My throat sticks, dry like I’m swallowing a mouthful of sand. My smile feels like a clown’s painted-on grimace, but I try to look concerned as I glance at Alaska, raising my voice to be heard.
“Hey...does Eli know where you are? Who’s looking after him tonight?”
“Don’t know,” Alaska says gravely. “He’s probably out looking for me with the Fords.”
I know damned well Alaska wouldn’t go skipping out on his boy, not even if he was angry enough to pick a fist fight with this guy. Not unless there was a damn good reason.
Eli’s probably sitting at Ms. Wilma’s kitchen table right now, stuffing his face with cookies while showing her all his photos of Charming Inn.
But at least Alaska’s playing along.
“Who’s Eli?” The sheriff plays right into it, tilting his head like a curious cocker spaniel.
“My son,” Alaska growls gruffly.
“His young son,” I point out. “Whom he’s liable for as a single parent, and since he’s in jail...that kinda means the liability passes to you, doesn’t it, Sheriff?” I look at Langley with wide-eyed innocence, like I’m so very curious about how the law works. “Isn’t that basically the way things go with no other next of kin in town? The kid becomes a temporary ward of the state? Especially since Eli’s only twelve.”
“Well, I...uh...” Langley tugs at his overbuttoned collar. “I’d have to call up to Helena to double-check the specifics of Montana state law. We, um, we don’t really have a social services division way out here, and—”
“I could take care of Eli!” I volunteer cheerfully. “But I think you have to give me permission for that, Sheriff Langley. As a representative of the state or whatever, right? Since you have his sole caretaker in custody and all.” I still feel like crying, like screaming, like choking, but somehow I’m smiling my sweetest customer service smile, leaning in over Langley’s desk. “Tell you what. Let me take care of the kiddo, and coffee’s not only on the house for a year, but it’s catered. I’ll have a fresh full pot dropped off here every morning. One of the big pots.” With a worried pout, I tap my finger against my lower lip. “I just hope nothing happens to Eli before you let Alaska out. You know I’ve just got awful luck sometimes...”
Langley looks between me and Alaska helplessly, then groans, scrubbing his fingers through his thin thatch of hair.
“...so the rumors about y’all are true, huh? He’s your man. Heard it from a guy on Blake’s crew the other day and thought he was full of it.” Langley snorts.
“I—what—no!” Oh my God, I think my heart’s going to explode.
My eyes flick to Alaska, who looks completely poleaxed, made all the worse by his swollen eye.
“Uh,” he says. “She was just offering to watch my kid...”
“Look, guys, it’s none of my business,” Langley says irritably. “I get it. You’re new in town. But let me tell ya, mister, I don’t like this kind of ruckus. So I will let you and only you off with a warning, and only this once.” He stabs a finger at Alaska. “Try me again and I’m taking you right down the highway to Missoula. They’ve got smaller cells and a lot more inmates, plus busy cops with a shorter fuse than mine. You hear me?”
I know what this is really about.
Langley doesn’t want the liability or pressure of being responsible for someone’s kid. Not after past disasters in Heart’s Edge.
A lot can happen in twenty-four hours, or however long he was planning to hold Alaska whether he pressed charges or not.
Old Langley the softie doesn’t want it on his conscience if something happens to Eli in the meantime.
Phew.
I hoped that’s how this would go, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Scout’s honor, sir.” Alaska nods gravely.
“Hey!” the other guy splutters. “How come he gets out?”
“Because he’s got a kid,” Langley barks. “And because I know who he is, at least. Done some good work around town this past year. You? Never seen you before in my life. So I think I’ve got some questions for you.”
Yeah.
So do I.
Like just how much Paisley Lockwood knows and what she’s aiming to do to me over it.
While Langley struts over to the cell and lets Alaska out, I try not to be too obvious about studying the other guy. Committing his face to memory, just in case.
Of course, I eavesdrop a little, too. Murmurs boil between Langley and Alaska—something about telling Holt that they’re even, now.
Oh.
So that’s the other reason he gave in.
He’s still feeling guilty for locking Holt up back when there was a madman running around town one winter, targeting Holt’s brother.
And since Holt is Alaska’s boss, well...it makes sense.
I’ll have to find a way to thank Holt without letting him know what I’m talking about.
Once we’re outside, though, Alaska flashes me a grateful, tired smile that’s darkened by his pained grimace and the way the swelling around his eye pulls at his entire face. “Thanks. That was some quick thinking in there.”
I half smile. “Couldn’t let you take the fall over my crap.”
“No,” he says, grim and low, and lifts his head to look back toward the police station, where it looks like—through the glass door—Langley continues berating the other guy. “This is my mess.”
I don’t understand.
I don’t understand at all.
But now isn’t the time or the place to ask.
“C’mon,” I say. “I’ll take you to your Jeep.”
“Not yet.” He shakes his head. “We’ll need it for cover.”
Cover?
I don’t ask. Not yet. Not now.
I just get in my station wagon and wait for Alaska to settle in the passenger seat that barely fits him before I pull onto the road, setting my path for Charming Inn.
He’s silent next to me, looking out the window with an expression I’ve never seen before, troubled and stormy and heavy.
I swear his eye swells up more by the minute, but if it hurts, he doesn’t seem to notice.
Yeah, there’s definitely something more happening beyond my problems, even if I have a feeling it might still be my fault.
This is my curse.
This is my poison.
This is what I feared.
And this is why I never should’ve dragged Alaska Charter into my life.
All I can ever do is ruin him.
10
The Golden Rule (Alaska)
Life never goes the way I plan.
I’m a simple man.
And for the longest time I thought I’d have a good, simple life: wife, kid, work, white picket fence, nice house, gorgeous views over the mountains and rivers of the sprawling Alaskan wild.
I asked, and life delivered something a fuck of a lot different.
Military scars. A brutal divorce. A dead ex-wife, single parenthood, and the life of an exiled nomad, taking whatever odd jobs will let me do my best by Eli and get him everything he needs to have a happier life than mine.
Yeah.
Shit went a bit off course.
Also off course?
Part of my past life following me here—landing me in jail—only for me to somehow end up back at my place, bailed out by the prettiest coffee-scented angel I’ve ever seen.
She presses a cold compress to my face while I put up a manly front and fight to avoid hissing at just how damned awful the ice feels against my busted eye.
Not how I wanted Felicity Randall to wind up in my bed.
Sitting next to me, thigh to thigh, looking up at me like she’s worried I might croak if she moves that cold compress so much as an inch.
Tonight, she’s been a godsend.
A whirlwind of efficiency and lovely warmth, taking care of things I’m a little slow to pick up on. I’m still reeling from my brains getting knocked around the walls of my skull.
> The second she dropped me off, she ordered me to sit down and stay still, then headed up to the big house to get Eli and bring him home. I worried what she’d say to them.
Luckily, she reassured me that she convinced the Fords it was nothing but my Jeep stranding me at the gas station and Fliss was giving me a ride.
Then she’d gotten Eli good and settled, parking him with his tablet and some new photo filter app she’d heard about. It worked to keep him distracted, and so did the quick snack of honey and oats she threw together from the mess of groceries in my kitchen.
Hell, she’s doing a better job of this parenting thing than I am right now.
I know I must’ve screwed something up, if Gavin Coakley followed me out here with a grudge.
I’m just damned lucky he didn’t hurt my kid when Eli caught him snooping around.
That’s what’s still sitting with me like I swallowed a bag of rocks.
Anything could’ve happened.
Gavin was more than willing to fuck my shit up beyond repair.
It’s probably just the fact that Eli startled him that Gavin didn’t do something worse to him than running.
The rat-bastard never was quick at thinking on his feet.
“Hey,” Felicity says. Her gentle fingertips are warm and tangled in my beard, touching my jaw delicately and tipping my face to hers. “Come back down to earth, yeah? What happened? That guy...he came after you for the gold, didn’t he?” Her face crumples. “I’m so sorry, Alaska, I—”
“Fliss—no.” I cut her off before she can start thinking it’s her fault and catch her hand, folding it in mine.
There’s always this heat in her skin, this pulsating glow I swear could heal me just by pressing her delicate flesh to mine.
I want to kiss every finger she’s got, nice and slow and teasing.
These hands are so capable, always busy with creating the artistry she makes out of her coffee when she’s not taking care of somebody.
It’s surprising how slender and soft they feel against my rough workman’s hands.
“He came after me. Gavin Coakley’s my problem, Fliss, not yours,” I say. “The fact that he stumbled on the gold, that’s my fault, too. You were right. I was overconfident and I should’ve hid it better.”
Her hand tugs lightly at mine, then stops, curling loosely against my fingers as she looks at me with her brows knit.
“Gavin? You mean you know that guy?”
“Too well,” I admit reluctantly. “He was my business partner.”
I make myself let go of her hand, even if all I want to do is hold on and reassure her that my problems aren’t about to compound hers. Carefully, I pry the cold compress out of her fingertips so I can hold it in place on my own.
“You might want to get comfortable,” I say with a dry smile. “This is a bit of a story.”
She settles, drawing one leg up on the edge of my bed and hugging it to her chest as she watches me.
Not warily, no, but she’s definitely bracing for something.
“Okay...ready when you are,” she whispers.
“Right.” I take a deep breath. “Once upon a time, I got out of the SEALs after some pretty hairy missions. Too many near-death experiences, so I decided I’d had my fun and discharged honorably. I didn’t want Eli growing up without a dad. Trouble is, a lot of the work out there for dudes with my kind of experience, especially in Alaska, involves being away a lot...so I tried something different.”
I meet her eyes, absorbing her stare, her eyes wide and urging me to go on.
“There was an old gold mine not too far off the property I inherited from my grandfather. Mostly played out, but there was a chance it could be revived, tapped with better technology to at least keep Eli’s college fund full and everybody comfortable.” I shrug. “Finding the startup funds to develop the mine was a tricky business. So Gavin and I went in halves, sank everything we had into it—and it probably would’ve worked out if I hadn’t...fuck.”
This is where I freeze.
Soft fingertips feather against my arm, and her touch almost makes me choke.
Her warmth, really, when I haven’t felt a woman’s heat in so long.
I haven’t let myself feel it.
It’s been so hard keeping my shit together for Eli. I can’t start thinking about my own wants and needs when his come first, second, and last.
Fliss looks up at me with encouragement, the tilt of her face curious and accepting.
Again, I think I see an angel.
It’s like no matter what I say, she’s ready to accept.
To offer forgiveness.
Or maybe she’s so used to people judging the shit she’s been through that she’d never think of judging me for my own.
Okay. Yeah. Whatever.
I owe her the rest.
“My ex,” I force out two bitter words. “Katelyn. She was a wreck, Felicity. Went beyond wild child and into recklessness tornado. Dangerous drinking, screwing around with strange men, the works. She was always on the verge of crashing out and I couldn’t deal with it. I had to leave, and I had to take Eli with me for his own safety. I didn’t want to deprive him of his mother, but she wasn’t interested in being a mom till it came to fighting me for custody just to spite me.” It’s been so long I’m not expecting the lump of hot fury in my throat, the way it fucking burns with every breath, but that slim hand on my arm keeps me talking. “It took everything I had. Hours of my life. Every penny. All the money I’d set aside for the mine, just to fight her in court so I could keep my boy.”
“So you had nothing left for the mine,” she prompts quietly.
“Not a goddamned dime. But Gavin already sunk his half into new machinery. We found one thinning vein, thought it might be our lifesaver. I took out loans, everything I could, to cover my half on the new equipment, but it didn’t matter. Shit went bust.” I shake my head. “We bet it all on black, and came up red. The vein was tapped out. We lost everything, and he’s never stopped blaming me, no matter how much I gave him to pay back what he lost. Even cutting his losses, he just had one bad turn of luck after another, and I guess now he’s come for payback. He blames me for fucking up his life.”
“It’s not your fault!” Felicity says with such sincerity that I want to believe her so much. “You fought for your son with everything you had. Hell...you fought that man over me and my gold. Some things are worth more than shiny rocks, and if he can’t see that, if he can’t see how important your son is to you...that’s his fault. Not yours. And if you paid him back, seems to me like you don’t owe him anything. His mistakes after that are his mistakes. You can’t take other people’s bad luck on yourself, Alaska.” Her smile is so wistful, so sad. “Including mine.”
“I’m not taking anything on I can’t handle. It’s no skin off my nose to help you out a little, Fliss.”
Even if it’s more than that.
I can’t really explain it, but hell.
I want so much to do everything, to be everything she’s needed for so long.
Call it a hero complex.
Call it a school yard crush.
Call it all the crap I’ll never care about because I already care too much for the pretty girl from the coffee shop and her sad blue-violet gemstones for eyes.
It’s like she senses the energy steaming off me.
There’s a subtle hint of retreat, the pressure of her hand on my arm lifting.
Her eyes go distant, shuttering over.
She glances away from me, then asks, “So what happened with the fight then?”
Right. The fight.
“I guess he’s been keeping tabs on me ever since I came back to Heart’s Edge with Eli for the summer,” I say. “Watching me. He saw us hide the gold. He stole two bars. Eli saw him digging around here and told me about it. I followed him, and he got in my face, roaring about how I’m scamming people.” I can’t help a snorting laugh. “Here’s the funny part—he thinks it’s fake. He believes I pla
ted bars with tungsten or something and I’m scamming folks with fool’s gold. He threw it in the goddamned garbage. That’s why I wanted to wait to pick up my Jeep till later. When people are in bed and no one will notice me digging in the trash to get that gold out and bring it back.” I sigh. “I’ve got to find a better hiding place. I’ll get on it tonight. Before he gets out and decides to find out just how fake those bars aren’t.”
She blinks. “What if they are?”
“If they’re what?” I blink back.
“Fake. They could be nickel or steel or something, dipped in gold or—”
“I’m pretty sure they’re real, Fliss.” I smile dryly. “But we can take them in for an assessment if you want.”
“No, not yet.” She shakes her head, and her hand pulls away from me. “Can I borrow your keys?”
I stare at her. “What for?”
“You’re in no condition to be running off hauling around gold bars,” she says firmly. “Look, you need to stay here with Eli. I’ll just tell people I’m doing you a favor and picking up your Jeep. I’ll bring my cousin along to help, and then we’ll have someone to drive both cars.”
“You sure you want to involve somebody else in this?”
“If I can trust anyone, it’s Ember,” she says with a tight, cynical little smile, shrugging. “I promise you she’s seen worse.”
She starts to stand—then freezes when I reach out and clasp her hand without thinking, stopping her in her tracks.
“No. Don’t do it.” I shake my hand, squeezing her fingers gently. “I don’t feel right about this. I should be there with you—can’t stand the idea of Gavin or God only knows who else catching you alone and hurting you.”
“And I can’t stand the idea of something happening to Eli because you felt like you needed to babysit me,” she says, sad and slow, but firm. She squeezes my hand back before gently working her fingers free from mine with a shake of her head, pushing herself to her feet. “It has to be this way, Alaska. There’s no other option. I can’t let you or your son get hurt over my dad’s bullcrap.”
There’s something there again.
Some undercurrent in what she says that I don’t quite know how to read, telling me this is bigger than just her father making off with some illicit treasure.