Just In Time: An Alaskan Nights Novel

by Addison Fox

  With dawning awareness, she watched as Ken moved closer, pulling her into his arms. “I’d like to kiss you, Julia.”

  “I’d like that very much.”

  As the summer sun beat down on them, the lost years of her personal life faded away. And as her arms came up around his neck, pulling him closer against her body, she felt a little bit stupid. A little bit wise.

  And a whole lot of happy.

  • • •

  Avery held up an outfit from her closet and faced Grier. “Trying too hard or not hard enough?”

  “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “How much cleavage you’re going to show with the shell underneath.”

  “None. Not like I have any to show off, anyway.”

  “You’ve got plenty.” Grier waved a hand as she reached for her take-out cup of coffee. “So which is it gonna be?”

  “Which is what?”

  “The cleavage, Avery. Are you showing any off?”

  Avery thought about the pale pink shell she wore with the outfit. “Maybe a modest amount.”

  “Code for none. Which means you’ll look very professional. Personally, I think you might want to spice up your travel conference and give the guys in the front row something to dream about, but that’s just me.”

  “My words will be riveting enough.”

  “Not nearly as riveting as a hint of lace and an opportunity for a wardrobe malfunction.” Grier popped a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

  “What good are you? You’re supposed to be a sophisticated New Yorker.”

  “Fashion was never my strong suit. I just buy stuff that matches, which is about as much as I can handle. Sloan, on the other hand. She’s your girl.”

  “Do you think we can text her pictures in Fiji and get her opinion?”

  “She’s in the glow of island breezes and honeymoon sex. Do you really think she’s even got her phone on?”

  “She’s just Type A enough to have it in her beach bag.”

  Grier nodded, convinced. “Give it a try.”

  Avery had her phone in hand before she shook her head and put it back on her nightstand. “No. It’s her honeymoon and I will not bother her with something so stupid and trivial. We’re two smart women. We can figure this out.”

  “Okay. So what else do you have in that closet since the outfits you’ve pulled out so far have been fashion masterpieces?”

  Avery shot her a nasty finger gesture before diving back into her closet. “It’s not my fault I live in one of the coldest climates in the entire world, ensuring my wardrobe consists mainly of sweaters. And it’s not like Susan requires me to dress up for front-desk duty.”

  “So what dresses do you have?”

  Avery poked her head back out the closet door. “I need to wear a suit.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m a professional.”

  “Dresses are professional.”

  “But a suit is more professional.”

  “Those suits look like they belonged to Margaret Thatcher. Show me the dresses.”

  Avery wanted to scream in frustration, but Grier’s point was valid. The suits she’d acquired over the years were serviceable and functional, but they weren’t all that enticing, sexy or sophisticated.

  “Betsy got a great dress line in last year and I have a few of those.”

  “Let’s see.”

  Avery spent the next half hour modeling whatever she could find in the closet. She also added a dress she’d remembered in her bottom drawer that had been left behind the previous summer when its owner mysteriously left it by the pool. Since said owner had never been found, Avery had had it laundered and added it to her small stash of clothing.

  “In order of preference.” Grier held up a hand and ticked off her list. “The red one, the turquoise one and that peach sensation you’re wearing that really shows off your legs.”

  Avery bit her lip, the indecision so foreign she couldn’t believe she was staring back at herself in the mirror. “Red? Really?”

  “You look gorgeous in the dress. It flatters your figure and screams ‘woman!’ without screaming ‘slut!’ at the same time. And”—Grier came over and smoothed the lines of the peach dress Avery still wore—“it will make you stand out on the dais.”

  “I’m not trying to showcase the fact I’m a woman.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I want the audience to listen to my words.”

  “Can’t they listen to your words and look at your face?”

  Grier’s logic pulled her up short and Avery had to admit her friend had a point. “I guess.”

  “Just because we have breasts doesn’t mean we don’t have brains. The value of what you’re saying will win them over. They’ll just get a kick out of how pretty you look when you say it. Besides.” Grier stepped back and lifted one of the discarded suits from the bed. “This needs to be burned as soon as humanly possible.”

  “I think it’s polyester. I may pollute the town with the fumes.”

  “We wouldn’t want that. Maybe Tasty can bury it beneath the ice next winter when he goes ice fishing. With any luck it’ll get buried at the bottom of the lake.”

  Grier gathered up other discarded outfits and began hanging them on the various hangers scattered around the room. Her tone was casual when she next spoke. “You and Roman looked like you had a good day yesterday.”

  Avery stopped folding the turquoise dress she was about to place in her suitcase. With an exaggerated motion, she looked at her watch. “I’m proud of you. You’ve been here over an hour and it took you that long to ask.”

  “Avery. Come on, you can’t blame me for being curious.”

  She couldn’t. And when Grier and Sloan had started dating Mick and Walker, she’d wanted details.

  So why was she so hesitant to share?

  “Roman’s coming with me to the conference.”

  “He’s what?” Grier raced across the room and Avery felt herself dragged into a tight hug. “That’s awesome. What brought this on?”

  “He asked me if he could go.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  Grier stood back but her hands still had Avery’s in a tight grip. “You are holding out on me.”

  “How can I be holding out on you if I just told you he’s going with me?”

  “There’s something else.”

  “There is one other small thing.” At Grier’s impatient stare, Avery let it spill. “We had sex last night.”

  “Where’s that phone? We have to text Sloan now. She’ll kill us for not telling her.”

  “We don’t need to bother her.”

  “All right, tell me then. So how did it happen?”

  “The usual way.”

  Avery knew the pillow was headed for her face and ducked before Grier even got a good heft on it.

  “You were at the rink all afternoon. And Roman was at the diner last night with the kids.”

  “It happened after.”

  “Yeah, but how? The girlfriend code says you need to share sexy details.”

  “I went to his room and stripped down. It’s a surprisingly effective tactic. Men pretty much stop thinking when a naked woman is standing in front of them.”

  “And when did you stop thinking?”

  “About three minutes after he landed in town.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I’m not sure, Grier. I’m really not sure. But I’ve spent the last week telling myself I can’t have anything to do with him and then yesterday he was just . . .” She broke off, not sure how to explain it.

  She hadn’t slept with him because of the Zamboni or the hockey equipment or the necklace, but all had been factors.

  “He still wears the good luck charm I gave him in high school.”

  “Oh. Oh wow.” Grier’s natural sense of humor and usual broad smile faded as a light sheen of tears filled her eyes. “That is so sweet.”


  “I thought so. He was amazing yesterday and I just finally stopped thinking about all the reasons I should stay away and looked at all the reasons I wanted to be with him.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “I am, too. I’m also scared to death.”

  “That part never entirely goes away, you know. Fortunately it fades as the comfort and the constancy grow.”

  “A part of me is afraid it will all go away. And the other part already knows I can survive it if it does.”

  “Do you think it’s going to end?”

  “I don’t think sex can cure fourteen years of being apart.” Avery picked up the slacks she’d laid on the bed and folded them, then placed them in her suitcase. “But I have to tell you, it certainly doesn’t hurt, either.”

  • • •

  Mick was already at the hangar, his plane fueled and his coffee cup in hand when Roman arrived with a sleepy Avery.

  “This is an ungodly hour of the day,” Avery muttered as she snagged Mick’s coffee cup and took a large swallow.

  “Hey, hey. Get your own.” Mick swatted at her hand and retrieved his cup before she could take another sip. “I’ve got a fresh pot in the hangar.”

  Avery muttered something about sharing before turning on her heel and heading for the small office Mick and Jack kept.

  “I thought sex was supposed to make them nicer.” Mick gave a wide smile as he took another sip of his coffee.

  “You know how she is early in the morning.” Roman watched Avery’s retreating back and couldn’t help but smile at the slight wobble to her still-sleepy walk.

  “Which I suspect is the reason your mother gives her nights.”

  “So how’d you know we had sex?”

  “Aside from the way you two keep looking at each other, I’ve got the group grapevine wrapped around me in my own bed.”

  “According to Avery, I’ve been given Grier’s full endorsement.”

  “Assuming you don’t fuck it up.” Mick’s slap on the back was little assurance against the knowledge that Grier still had her doubts.

  “I’m not fucking up—”

  Mick cut him off before he could say anything further. “Do me a favor and don’t say it. Don’t tempt fate, the gods or whatever else the world can cook up. Just take it day by day and work really hard to treat her right.”

  Mick’s advice was sound and Roman didn’t argue with the pilot’s wise counsel.

  He was holding things back. He still hadn’t told Avery about his eye, or the career change he was contemplating in the event he wasn’t going to play again.

  The words had ridden the tip of his tongue so many times the day before he’d lost count, but in the end, he’d said nothing. When he was with her, the end of his career and the confusion that came with having no clue what he was going to do with his life felt a million miles away. He didn’t want to mar their rediscovery of each other with the ugly reality of his future.

  He slapped Mick on the shoulder. “Go take care of what you need to. I’ll go fetch Sunshine and snag a cup of coffee.”

  Despite her bearlike morning mood, Avery had two cups already poured when he walked into the hangar and was stirring copious amounts of sugar into both.

  “Just the way I like it.”

  “Sugar with a side of coffee.” She finished doctoring her own and lifted the cup. “Sorry I’m so grumpy.”

  “We’re used to it.”

  “I know. It doesn’t make it right.”

  He dropped a quick kiss on her head. “It doesn’t make it wrong, either. And you’ve got a lot on your mind. It’s a big day.”

  “Part of me is exhilarated and part of me is scared shitless.”

  “Welcome to my world every time I get on the ice.”

  She cocked her head over the rim of her cup. “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “Every time?”

  “Every time.” He saw the doubt in her eyes. “I’m not just saying this to make you feel better, you know.”

  “I don’t think you’re making it up, but it’s still hard to believe.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. You just seem invincible. In person. On the ice. Even with everyone in town. You’re just so . . . with it.”

  “Avery. You know me.”

  “I know. And I still think all those things. Knowing you doesn’t make that any less true for me.”

  “I’m a human being. Fallible and flawed and goofy and every human thing everyone else is.”

  “Don’t get upset.”

  “I’m not.” He glanced down at his cup and saw how it bowed under his grip. “Much.”

  “I’m sorry to egg you on but you don’t see yourself from everyone else’s perspective.”

  “What is that?”

  “The celebrity thing doesn’t help, but it’s more than that. You’re a large, attractive, fit man. People notice that.”

  He wasn’t sure why he’d picked this moment to have this discussion—smack in the middle of an airplane hangar—but it was suddenly important to him to make her understand how tiring it all was. “They don’t see much else.”

  She took another sip of her coffee, her gaze contemplative. “I don’t think that’s true. You are also incredibly kind, which people don’t expect. It’s disarming and only adds to your appeal.”

  “I can go punch Ronnie out if it’ll help.”

  “I don’t think so.” The first smile of the morning lit her face. “Face it. You’re destined to spend your life as Saint Roman. Just learn to deal with it.”

  “And if I don’t want to be the fucking apostle of Indigo, Alaska?”

  She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his chin. “Unless you’re prepared to start kicking Chooch and Hooch’s puppies, I think you’re stuck with it, buddy.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The coffee kicked in midflight to Anchorage, letting her shake off her morning lethargy, but nothing had managed to kick the strange mess of thoughts filling her mind. Avery stood back as Roman flagged down a cab at the airport, content to simply watch him move.

  I’m a human being. Fallible and flawed and goofy and every human thing everyone else is.

  He was human. She knew that.

  And because she knew him, she knew about all those quirks that made him as fallible as everyone else. He was wretched at geometry, he couldn’t parallel park to save his life and he couldn’t win at Monopoly, even if he owned Boardwalk, Park Place and every railroad.

  “You ready?” Roman had the cab door open and gestured her forward.

  “Yep.”

  “You doing all right? You look a million miles away.”

  She looked up at him from the backseat of the cab before she slid over. “You suck at Monopoly.”

  Roman slid in next to her. “Run that one by me one more time?”

  “That’s it. Just that you suck at Monopoly.”

  “And that’s relevant because?”

  “This morning. Your comment that you’re fallible. Most people can play the game by the time they’re eight and I don’t think you’ve ever won one game.”

  His laughter was low and deep when they were both flung back against their seat as the driver pulled away from the curb. “Thanks. I think.”

  She patted him on the knee. “I just wanted you to know I know you’re not perfect.”

  “Well, that certainly makes me feel better.”

  “Your dad sucked at it, too, apparently. Who’d have thought? Bad board-game skills are genetic.”

  She felt it more than she saw his reaction. His entire frame stiffened next to her and she turned, aware the words might have been unintentionally callous. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “No, really. I’m sorry I said anything.”

  His voice was quiet when he finally spoke, the husky tones strained with emotion. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Your mom talks about him. That’s how I knew about the crappy board
-game skills.”

  “Does she?”

  His question came out as stiff as his body, and Avery immediately sensed something deeper in the question. “Doesn’t she talk about him to you?”

  “No. Never.”

  Avery wondered at that and thought it was awfully unfair of Susan to deny Roman the memories of his father. Especially since she was more than willing to share them over casual conversation at the hotel.

  “Have you asked her? I know he died when you were young. You can’t have all that many memories of him.”

  “No, I don’t, and I have asked from time to time. She usually gives me a terse answer and I end up dropping it, thinking it’s too painful.”

  “Oh.”

  “I take it that means she’s rather verbose with what she says to you?”

  “Maybe it’s a woman thing.”

  “Maybe.”

  Avery hesitated, the desire to say what she thought warring with the respect she felt for his mother. In the end, her respect for him won out.

  “I’ve always thought she’s too quick to keep things from you. Like she’s afraid she’ll ruffle you or make your visit home unpleasant. Not just about your father, but even day-to-day issues at the hotel or things going on with your sister.”

  “I know. I’ve always felt it was easier not to ruffle her. To allow her to have her illusions.”

  “Why do we do that?”

  “Do what?”

  Avery thought about her own reservations. The things she’d held back from her mother, especially when it came to Roman. Instead of using her mother as a sounding board or a sensitive ear, she’d kept her true feelings hidden, afraid her pain would only make Alicia’s worse.

  Had it been the right thing to do?

  Or had she underestimated her mother and missed out on the chance to have someone she loved help her through her own pain?

  “Why do we hide difficult things from the people we love? It’s like we’re trying to protect them, but maybe we do them a disservice.”

  “Maybe we do.” He looked up, his eyes a fervent shade of green. “I know it might hurt, but I’d like to know about my father.”

  “Why don’t you tell your mom that?”

  Roman leaned down and pressed a kiss against her temple. “Maybe I will.”

  • • •

  His cab ride with Avery still filled his thoughts hours later as he paced their hotel room. She’d gone down to get set up for her panel and he had a few minutes to kill before heading down to watch.