by Addison Fox
“Because Grier might get cold?”
“Yep. Man, I am so fucked.” Mick rubbed a hand over his jaw as a broad grin split his face. “And I’m loving every single second of it.”
“Yeah, well don’t forget to nail the rim back on.”
“What?” Mick had already dropped his hammer into his toolbox and was kneeling over it, closing it up.
Roman pointed to the piece of wood that rested against the side of the house. “You leaving the window frame exposed?”
“What was that I was saying?”
“Oh, I think your besotted grin and the cupids flying around your head say it all.”
“They probably do,” Mick said on a sigh as he unlocked the toolbox and pulled the hammer back out. “They probably do.”
• • •
Avery knew men ate a lot. Heck, she saw it at the hotel all the time. But when Mick and Roman started in on the third pizza, even she would admit to a serious case of surprise. “Hungry much?”
“We did manual labor today,” Mick muttered around a mouthful of pizza.
“It was one window, not the entire house.”
Roman elbowed Mick as he swallowed his bite. “It was a long, sweaty job. Mick had to open his toolbox more than once.”
Avery didn’t miss the subtle exchange between the two of them as Mick let out a low guffaw at Roman’s comment, but she opted to ignore it. The two of them, along with Walker, had always shared a strange half language she’d never been able to understand.
She certainly wasn’t going to try to start now.
“I guess there’s no room for my strawberry shortcake, then.”
“The one with the pound cake on the bottom?” Mick’s mouth dropped.
“The very same.”
The man laid down his pizza before turning his apologetic gaze on Grier. “I’m sorry, baby. Your pizza’s awesome but Avery’s shortcake is so good I may need to propose. To her.”
“You do that a lot.” Grier’s voice was dry.
“Do what?”
“Propose to women because of food.” She turned toward Avery and Roman. “He has the hots for a cook up in Fairbanks because of her chicken potpie.”
“Her husband’s a bruiser.”
“Didn’t stop your googly eyes.”
Mick leaned over and planted a solid kiss on Grier’s lips. “The only googles are for you.”
“Disgusting,” Avery said in an overly loud whisper.
“Whipped,” Roman added in an equally loud monotone.
“And damn proud of it.” Grier and Mick said the words in unison before pulling away.
Avery stood to cross to the kitchen and waved Grier down before she could join her. “I’ll get it. Finish your pizza.”
Avery pulled the strawberries and the can of whipped cream out of the fridge, then grabbed bowls out of the cabinet before she moved back to the counter. The pound cake had baked up just as she’d hoped, golden yellow in its rectangular pan. She cut slices—extra large ones for Roman and Mick—and ladled strawberries over each piece.
Without warning, a memory slammed into her so hard she grabbed for the countertop to keep her legs from going out from underneath her.
“Where’d you learn to make this?”
Avery felt Roman’s lips on the nape of her neck before a wash of sparks shot down her spine. She’d started wearing her hair up for this very reason. He couldn’t seem to resist that spot, and her body never failed to show its appreciation.
“Mrs. Taylor’s misguided attempts at home ec during study hall.”
“Is this what you and the girls were doing while we got sent down to the gym to learn how to keep our engines from freezing in winter?”
“At least no one can say sexism isn’t alive and well at Indigo High School.”
Roman shook his head as he leaned forward and dipped his finger into the bowl of whipped cream she’d made from scratch. “Home ec and shop. It’s like something out of 1955.”
“At least I got something tasty out of it.”
“You sure did. And now so did I.” Roman smiled before diving in to kiss her. She could taste the subtle cream on his lips and sank into him, the taste of something she’d made on his tongue a surprisingly satisfying sensation.
“What are you two doing in here?” Avery’s mother walked into the small kitchen and Avery moved out of Roman’s arms, putting some distance between them.
“Nothing, Mom.”
“We’re kissing, Ms. Marks.” Roman grinned broadly. “Your daughter tastes delicious.”
“Roman!”
Avery’s gaze darted between her mom and Roman. She knew her mother knew they kissed—and likely understood a whole lot more—but he didn’t need to go broadcasting it.
“Oh, honey.” Her mom waved an arm but Avery didn’t miss the sharp look that had come into her mother’s eyes. “I was young once, too.”
“I know, Mom.”
“I know what it’s like to have a beau.”
“Of course you do.”
“I know.” Alicia crossed to the cabinet on the far side of the kitchen and snagged a bottle of brandy from the cabinet.
Avery felt Roman’s quiet gaze on her but she refused to meet his eyes. She’d had this conversation with her mother before. Alicia’s desperate need to emphasize she’d had relationships in the past had only gotten louder and harder-edged as Avery’s own relationship with Roman had progressed.
“Anyone want brandy on their strawberries?” Alicia held up the bottle as she approached the counter.
“No, Mom. We’re good.”
“I know you are, baby.” A heavy wash of anger flooded her mother’s gaze for the briefest of moments before it was replaced with a sadness so deep it sucked at Avery’s soul.
Avery pulled her thoughts from that long-ago day and focused on the four bowls spread out on the counter. That look in her mother’s eyes had haunted her more than once—a shockingly clear streak of jealousy at the relationship she shared with Roman.
A sort of love her mother had been denied, yet had wanted with quiet desperation.
“The natives are restless.” Grier came up behind her, and Avery keyed back in to the noise coming from the small dining alcove in Mick’s kitchen. “Can I help?”
“No, no, I’m good.”
The bright smile on Grier’s face fell as confusion narrowed her eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Avery painted on a bright smile, hoping it rivaled the sun. “I’m good.”
• • •
“You okay?”
Avery looked up from the stack of dishes on the counter she was methodically loading into the dishwasher and smiled at Roman. “Sure. Why?”
“I don’t know. You looked about a million miles away during dessert.”
He saw it—that immediate urge to downplay something unpleasant—before a resigned look came over her face.
“I had a memory as I was putting dessert together. It just sort of stuck with me and left me a little melancholy.”
“Was I there?”
“You were, but you probably don’t remember it. There was a day, years ago, when I made strawberry shortcake for dinner when my mom and I had you over.”
“I remember it.”
Roman did remember that day. Had thought about that sad evening for years, in fact. It was the first time he saw the full extent of Alicia’s problem.
And what Avery was living with.
Up until that time, he’d believed Avery when she told him her mother was an alcoholic, but he hadn’t really understood what she lived with. But that day, it was different. He’d seen how insidious Alicia’s disease was. How it could ruin a perfectly nice dinner or sully a simple conversation.
“You do?”
“Yeah. You tasted delicious, as I recall.” His grin faded as he summoned up the rest of the afternoon in his mind. “But your mom was off that day. Weird.”
“She got really weird those last six months before
you left.” Avery’s voice dropped. “After things got more serious between us.”
“Do you think she was jealous?”
“I think she was a lot of things. Jealous was likely one of them.”
“Did you call her on it?”
“I tried. I don’t know. My whole life, I wanted to lash out at her, but the few times I had the chance to do it, I chickened out. She was weak, you know? And not just because of the liquor.”
“How so?”
Avery closed the dishwasher and leaned against the counter. “It took me a long time to understand it. Liquor was the outward expression of my mom’s weaknesses, but it wasn’t the reason she was a weak person.”
“Is that why you’re not afraid to have a drink?”
“Probably. I like liquor. Have a healthy respect for it, obviously, since I also serve it as part of my job. And I’m also fine to ignore it. Grier and I had a glass of wine earlier, as we made dinner, and then I felt like a Coke with dinner. It’s just there, you know. Fun at times, but not necessary.” She shrugged and a harsh laugh escaped her lips. “My mother couldn’t open a bottle of anything without emptying it.”
“But you think she had other weaknesses?”
“I know she did. They made themselves known in lots of little ways. When she was still actively holding down a job she traveled on occasion. She came home from Anchorage on one trip, positively glowing about this guy she’d met.”
“What happened?”
“He never called and she went into this massive depression. She couldn’t get out of bed, Roman.”
“She was lonely.”
“I know that. And for a long time I accepted that as the reason why. But now I believe it was more. She couldn’t process the world around her. Couldn’t see it with clear eyes.”
“Grief is a horrible thing.”
“What grief? The way she mourned my father, you’d have thought they had a relationship for years instead of a few weeks’ fling that ended as casually as it had started.”
“Do you ever wonder about him?”
“As a kid I did, but not any longer. It’s hard to miss something you’ve never had and he’s just never been there. I do have a picture of him and, for me, that’s been enough.”
“Do you resent her?”
“I did. For a very long time, I resented her. And then I stopped resenting her and started living my life. I got more involved at work. Started doing some of those dopey things I put up on the website and planning travel packages for our guests.”
“And going to Ireland.”
“Yes.”
Roman grabbed the mug of coffee he’d abandoned on the counter and took a sip, trying to gather his thoughts. “I think she’d be proud of you. And I’d like to think whatever jealousy and anger dogged her in her life is long gone, replaced with peace and understanding.”
He didn’t miss the hopeful flare that rose up in her deep brown eyes like a flame. “Do you really think so?”
“Yes, I do.”
Her arms came around his waist and Roman tightened his to pull her close. He bent his head, taking her mouth with his in a gentle act designed to give warmth, understanding and comfort. Her lips opened under his, their tongues sliding together in that familiar mating that was as old as time, yet unique to Avery.
His Avery.
Roman pulled back and laid his forehead against hers, taking and giving support in the quiet moment between them. Unlike his friends, he’d found his match at a very young age.
Maybe he was finally old enough to understand it.
• • •
Roman was still thinking about Avery and their future as he borrowed his mother’s car the following morning. He’d promised his grandmother he’d pick up some things for her in Anchorage and wanted to get everything delivered.
He pulled out of the Indigo Blue’s parking lot and squinted in the bright sunlight coming through the windshield. The sun—and the subtle pain that laced his right eye as he squinted—was a vivid reminder that he needed to make some decisions.
And he needed to tell Avery.
Last night would have been the perfect time to tell her. They’d shared that quiet moment about her mother in the kitchen. It would have been the ideal time to tell her what was going on with his life.
So why had he held back?
Because you’re not fucking perfect anymore.
The voice that had taunted him for months reared up and gave him a mental kick to the head, adding insult on top of his already irritated injury.
Roman deftly ignored it and tried to focus. He knew full well—when he got past the insecurity of it all—that he was incredibly fortunate. He had options and a future that wouldn’t end when his hockey career did.
A lot of people didn’t have that and—injury aside—he’d be foolish to think he was immune to the march of time any more than other people.
So why was he holding out on Avery?
The question coursed through his mind, like an errant puck that raced down the ice but stopped short of the goal.
Since he’d arrived at his goal—his grandmother’s house—he decided he’d worry about it later. He had a practice session with the kids at the rink. He’d tell Avery about it after that. All of it—his future and his options—and discuss it with her.
Roman pulled the large box he’d picked up at the airport from the trunk and headed toward the front door. It was the perfect time, now that he thought about it. The hockey rink was the definition of his past and could possibly be the root of his future, if he took the broadcasting job. He also knew Avery needed to make some decisions on her job offer.
He juggled the heavy box and knocked on the door, his thoughts still playing over his imagined discussion with Avery. They could discuss their futures, there at the newly repaired rink. Could figure out what they both wanted and needed and see what options they had.
They could find a way.
He knew it.
With renewed confidence that he wouldn’t have to say good-bye to Avery a second time, he knocked on his grandmother’s door again, curious that she hadn’t answered on his first knock.
When there was still no answer, he dug into his pocket for his mother’s keys and unlocked the door.
“Grandma!”
His voice echoed down the long hall that led back to the kitchen and Roman headed that way, his concern increasing with each step.
Where was she?
Bright sunlight colored the back of the house with its morning rays and he again reached up to rub his right eye, the bright light sending a subtle throb into his eye socket.
It was the only reason, he realized moments later.
The only reason he didn’t see his grandmother through the back screen door, her lips pressed firmly to Doc Cloud’s.
Chapter Twenty-one
Julia heard the loud thud of the screen door and it pulled her attention from Ken and their mind-bending kiss. A subtle irritation at the interruption flooded her veins until she looked up.
Straight into the eyes of her grandson.
“Roman! What a lovely surprise.”
“What the hell is going on?”
She kept her smile bright as she stood and crossed the patio toward him, unwilling to admit to even the slightest twinge of embarrassment. She was an adult, for heaven’s sake.
And thankfully both she and Ken were fully clothed.
“Would you care to join us for breakfast? I just put coffee on a few minutes ago.”
She felt Ken’s quiet strength in the steady hand he put at the small of her back and she sensed he wanted to say something, but was holding back. Reaching for him, she gave his hand a quick squeeze.
With brisk efficiency, she headed for the kitchen, all the while ignoring Roman’s gaping mouth, and wasn’t surprised when her grandson followed her.
“What is going on, Grandma?”
“You’ve got an imagination. Figure it out.”
“That’s all I
get?”
“What do you want?”
“I want to know what the hell’s going on.”
“I’m seeing Ken.”
Roman sputtered before recovering himself. “Define ‘seeing.’”
“I hardly think that’s an appropriate question, young man.”
“You’re my grandmother.”
“Yes. And a grown woman. I’m entitled to a life.”
“But—” He shook his head before turning to glance toward Ken through the window. “That’s Doc Cloud.”
“I know.”
“And you’re having a relationship with him?”
“I most certainly am.”
“What do Mary and Sophie think about it?”
The question speared through her and Julia crossed her arms. She knew the pose was a classic defense mechanism, but she didn’t care. “They don’t know yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because I wanted to enjoy it and keep it to myself for a few days.”
“It just happened?”
“I think it’s been building for years, but yes, we recently took things to the next level.”
He winced at that and she almost regretted the words, until he spoke once more. “Well if it just started, you can end it just as easily.”
“I’m not ending anything.”
“You have to. You’re a grown woman, for heaven’s sake. What will people think?”
“Hopefully, they’ll think how lucky I am to be so happy.”
“Grandma. It’s not decent. Did he sleep here?”
“It’s perfectly decent.” Julia felt the anger creeping up on her and realized she had no desire to hold it back. To take the polite route and keep the peace.
“I’m perfectly decent. And I’m in love. And I’m going to do whatever I please because that man is the best thing to happen to me in years. I’m just lucky he hasn’t given up on me, waiting for me to come around.”
Roman’s jaw hardened and he glanced once more out the window before turning back to her. “He’s been planning this?”